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“He’s the same guy you asked me to background check earlier,” Cleo rushes out. “He’s Dean McGregor.”
Her voice is cut off when the fire alarm starts screaming above us.
Chapter 6
Silence
“Hello.”
The blonde man raises his eyes from his phone to me, a handsome grin spreading across his face. “Hello. Can I help you?”
I don’t bother holding back my smile, but I hope I’m at least hiding my nerves. “Why are you acting like you didn’t watch me walk over here?”
He laughs, a dimple appearing in his cheek. He turns his stool to face me, his blue shirt fitted well over a muscular body. He’s not as big as the brothers, but he’s clearly in shape, and it’s strange that I might find out what he looks like naked.
Walking over here, I became extremely aware of my knees. Was I bending them normally? Do I even bend them at all? Then I remembered I had hands and wondered what the hell I did with them all the time. I alternated between holding them behind my back and crossing my arms, until I finally settled on … oh God, I don’t even remember, but I’m already close to panicking.
“I’m trying to play it cool,” he admits, his green eyes sparkling. He extends his hand. “Dean.”
I hope my palm isn’t sweating as I take it. “Silence.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Nice.” I laugh, taking the stool beside him. “My name is Silence.”
It’s rare that people don’t pry into the meaning behind it, but maybe he’s assuming it’s fake. Instead of asking if my parents were a little odd, he orders me a Seven and Seven.
“You were paying attention?”
“It’s my job to notice things. I’m a quantity surveyor.”
“Wow. Sexy.”
“Sorry. Should I say fighter pilot?” he teases, then glances behind me. “Your friends are gone.”
Twisting my wedding ring, I nod. It’s been less than a few minutes since I kissed Zayden goodbye, but I suddenly feel too far away from him. “Three of them have, yes.”
Shit. How do I broach this? My husband wants me to take you upstairs and watch you fuck me. He’ll probably join in, too. Do I dive in, take my time? But then what if we spend the next hour flirting and he isn’t interested?
“You’re married.”
I clear my throat and nod, thanking the bartender when he places my Seven and Seven in front of me. “Yes.”
“But you’re here with me.”
A sip of my drink does nothing to ease the nerves writhing in my belly. “Yes. He … got us a room.”
Jesus. Where’s my confidence? Am I the same girl who married a stranger in Vegas? Who spent an entire weekend with him afterward, fucking him senseless?
Zayden was a stranger then, too. Is this really any different?
“Let’s just have a drink,” Dean says, his tone soft. “And you can tell me about you.” The tightness in my chest eases a little, and he holds up his beer. “To making new friends.”
I smile and tap my glass against his. “To making new friends.”
We talk. About my job as a nurse, the stress of the ER, and how I met Zayden. He tells me he hates his job, is divorced and thirty-six, no kids. He travels a lot for work and is staying at the hotel, too.
He’s mid-explanation about how he got into quantity surveying when I blurt out the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since I sat down.
