It wasn’tthe same guy.
Tristanwaswearing a suit (a rich, dark lavender paired with an ivory shirt), and hewastall, quiet, and a tad angry-looking, with sharp enough features to justify the “severe” descriptor. But it wasn’t the man who’d stepped out of the black Cadillac.
Still, I liked him. Rachel had been right.
Well… mostly.
He was funny. He was charming. A little shy at first, but very kind. Not to mention polite, handsome, successful, and, of course, gay.
“He’s not gay!” Rachel exclaimed for the umpteenth time as I reached for another fuzzy peach shot.
We were tucked in a corner, away from all the ruckus, and crouching a bit so we wouldn’t be spotted and pulled back in. I just needed five minutes.
Who knew accountants could get so rowdy?
“Rach, I love you, and I know your heart’s in the right place, but there’s no universe in which that man is even remotely attracted to women.”
“Liking interior design and fruity cocktails doesn’t make him gay.”
“No, it doesn’t. Being gay is what makes him gay.”
“You only talked to him for, like, twenty minutes!”
“Yeah! Because he’s been busy flirting with the male bartender for the last two hours!” I pointed at said bartender, a total cutie who’d spent the night giving us more free shots than half the accountants could count in their current state.
“They’re friends!”
I fixed her a look. She didn’t budge.
“You said you always have your team drinks here, right?” When she nodded, I scootched closer. “When was the last time you were given a table somewhere that wasn’t in direct view of the bar?”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Tristan has an in with the owner, and these are the best seats in the house if you want quick service.”
I threw a thumb over my shoulder. “And when was the last time that specific bartender?—”
“Darius.”
“And when was the last timeDariuswasn’t working during one of your team get-togethers?”
“He’s always here, because it’s always the same staff, because we always do drinks at the same time, on the same day. Fridays at seven.”
“Today’s Thursday.”
She paused. I smiled and grabbed her wrist.
“Right. I know, but Tristan has an appointment…”
“And you had an overlapping client event a couple of weeks ago, didn’t you? Were drinks rescheduled so you could be there?”
“No, but I’m not covering the group bill. We usually only reschedule if he’s the one…”
Her voice faded out as we weaved through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. Darius reached for a pink bottle when he saw us approaching. Didn’t miss a beat.
He really was cute. Midtwenties, charming smile, fashionably tousled hair, and little to no spare fucks to give.
Tristan had good taste.
“Question for you,” I said, gripping the lip of the polished stone bar as I leaned into it. “Are you working tomorrow night?”
