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“Melissa let you out?” Lucas gave Snow’s neck one last squeeze before he walked behind the bar. Grabbing another tumbler, he set it next to the other two and reached for his bottle of bourbon.
Rowe snorted. “More like kicked me out. She was tired of listening to me shout at the game. Damned bullshit.”
Lucas said nothing as he poured the amber liquid into each glass. Hell, the man was a horrible liar and Snow had to see through that blatant attempt like it was made of glass. Yet, Snow’s shoulders relaxed slightly. More than likely, Rowe’s wife was praying that Lucas or their other friend Ian would accompany Rowe and Snow on their drinking binge in hopes of keeping her husband out of trouble. Snow might like to rough people up during sex, but Rowe had a love of bar fights. He always said he liked to start fights when he was drinking—just because he could.
The man did fight like a gladiator. A volunteer gladiator.
And what kind of fucked up person would be like that?
“Lucas is going to get me laid,” Snow announced as he picked up one of the tumblers. The half-grin that tugged up one side of his mouth had a wicked bent.
Lucas watched him closely, liking that he sounded more composed and controlled than he had been before. There was still an edginess to his frame, but at least he wasn’t demanding a screamer now. It could be less wear and tear on both their souls.
“Come on, Frosty,” Rowe teased, using the one nickname that Snow despised. “We both know if you’d smile once in a while, you wouldn’t need help getting a piece of ass.”
Snow let a smile loose—a cold predatory thing that sent shivers through lesser men. “My smiles haven’t gotten me into your ass.”
“That’s because Melissa doesn’t want my ass destroyed, you psychopath.” Rowe chuckled as he joined Snow at the bar. He picked up the remaining tumbler and clinked it against his friends’ before draining its contents.
Lucas sipped his bourbon, savoring the slow burn down his throat and chest. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he watched his companions. Between Lucas’s hands-on style and Rowe’s relentless teasing, Snow already seemed more at ease. Rowe had a gift. He could disarm you with his charm in seconds and have you spilling your life story before the end of the night. He was all bright colors and loyal heart, a fiery sunrise that could, and likely would, punch its way through a cold, blustery day.
“So. Do we want to grab Ian and make a night of it?” Rowe reached across the bar and snagged the bourbon. He replenished his glass and Snow’s.
“No,” Lucas replied before taking another sip. “Rialto opens to the public tomorrow. I don’t want him going through that with a hangover.”
Two years of cajoling, badgering, and persuading were about to pay off. Ian had taken the leap and was set to run his own restaurant. Of course, after Ian finally agreed, it had taken him two years to settle on a location, theme and menu. Lucas had been happy to front him the money. The young man was a genius in the kitchen and the investment would easily pay off. So tomorrow night needed to go perfectly for their friend.
“Shit.” Rowe cringed. “I totally forgot. Ian promised Melissa and me a table at eight.”
Lucas swirled the remaining bourbon in his glass, watching the amber liquid dance in the light. “Try to dig up a tie and a jacket.”
“Fuck you.”
Lucas smirked. Clothes had been a long time subject of argument between him and Rowe…and Ian. It took great effort to get Rowe out of his jeans and T-shirts.
“Ian’s out then,” Snow interjected, heading off their bickering before it could spiral out of control.
“We could hit O’Malley’s,” Rowe suggested.
Snow let loose one of his rare, loud laughs, bringing a full smile to Lucas’s lips as the weight of worry lifted from his chest.
“I said I wanted to get laid, you idiot. I’m not going to find any ass at a fucking sports bar.”
“You could.” Rowe kept his eyes on the glass he held with both hands. “But you’d actually have to work for it. Put in some effort.”
“Snow prefers when they buy him drinks and parade in front of him like beauty pageant contestants,” Lucas teased.
“Hey now. I work hard to be this beautiful. They should work hard to get a piece of me.” Snow grinned.
Rowe reached over and roughly grabbed Snow’s jaw with one hand, shaking his head. “Exactly. Look at this face. You know it makes you want to suck his cock.”
Snow shoved him away with a curse and Lucas laughed. It was hard to be serious around Rowe. The man had ridiculous down to an art form.
