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“A round of shots on this guy!” Flip slaps me on the back.
I roll my eyes. “Dude. When have shots ever been a good idea?”
“They’re always a good idea.”
The bartender quirks her brow.
“Go on. Line ’em up,” I tell her.
We down the shots, and of course, because it’s on my dime, Flip orders a dozen more and calls the rest of the guys over. We toast the win, and Flip orders one more round, but he pays for these, which is rare for him. Hemi, Shilpa, Hammer, and Bea get called over to join us. Hemi and Shilpa give us judgy looks as we pass them out. I bite my tongue when Hemi passes her shot to Bea. Two beers and Bea’s tipsy, so adding shots probably isn’t the best idea.
She and Hammer have their heads together. I don’t like Bea’s smile. It’s the one she wears when she’s planning something devious, like pouring a water bottle down her chest while she’s wearing a white sports bra. I considered gouging Dallas’s eyes out for a second that day.
Flip makes another toast to the team, and I shoot my tequila and chase it with beer. Ashish sniffs his before knocking it back.
“The only time I like tequila is when it’s in a margarita,” he notes. He chases the shot with water.
Shilpa gives him an arched brow as she dumps her shot into a lowball glass with juice.
“I don’t know why I didn’t do that,” Ashish mutters.
Hammer and Bea rub their lemons on their collarbones, then sprinkle each other with salt.
“That would have been an even better idea.” Ashish glances at Shilpa, who’s watching the girls with a knowing smile from behind the rim of her glass.
“Those two are a problem waiting to happen,” Dallas notes.
I grunt and take another swig of beer.
They lick each other’s collarbones, shoot their tequila, and finish with the lemon. That’s my neck Hammer is licking, my girl she’s getting up close and personal with. Pretty sure the entire bar, except for Flip, just watched that happen. He’s busy flirting with a bunny. I’m busy fighting with my body to stay where I am and not stake my claim. Especially when I spot a couple of guys eye-fucking her from across the bar.
“I need a drink,” Hollis mutters and walks away.
Roman sighs and drains the rest of his beer. “Pretty sure this is payback for last week.”
“What happened last week?” My gaze returns to Bea, who’s now doing Hemi’s shot. This time she salts the webbing between her thumb and pointer finger and her eyes swing my way as she drags her tongue over her skin.
Roman snaps his fingers.
“Huh?”
“You two are about as obvious as a flashing neon sign.”
I yank my gaze away from Bea. “I’m nowhere near her.”
“You’re looking at her like you want to eat her.”
Or spank her ass while taking her from behind. She’s pushing my buttons on purpose. “Flip’s busy flirting with the bunnies.”
“Just because he hasn’t noticed doesn’t mean other people won’t. Clearly, whatever was going on still is.”
“It’s not a thing.” I drain the rest of my beer. I need him to drop it, and I need to be less fucking conspicuous. But having to stay away from her? I don’t like it. At all.
“Saying it doesn’t make it true.”
“What’s Hammer getting you back for?”
“She saw my business end by accident. It’s the second time it’s happened, and she wants to move into her own apartment. I can’t say I blame her. And changing the subject won’t make this shit go away, Tristan. The longer you go behind his back, the harder it’ll be to come clean.”
“It’s supposed to end when she moves out.” I don’t like the tightness in my chest that comes with that admission.
“Which is when?” Roman asks.
I rub my bottom lip. “When she finds a place, I guess. We’re closing in on the end of September, so there’s a good chance she’ll be living with us through October.”
Roman gives me a look. “Do you hear yourself, man?”
I realize I’m back to staring at Bea, who’s now dancing with Hammer and Hemi. I force my gaze away again. “She probably won’t find a place next week.”
“Look, man, I get that you can’t help the way you feel?—”
“I don’t feel anything. We’re just fucking.” That sounds and feels like a big, shitty lie. Sure, I like being inside Bea. But I also like being around Bea. I hate when she’s upset, but I like buying her treats, even if I have to drive an hour to get them. I love watching her eat cake. And feeding it to her. She takes tiny bites and saves the icing for last. She makes little happy noises.
“So you’d be fine if it ended next week?” Roman presses.
“She doesn’t have an apartment yet.” My shoulders are tight.
