A rerun of a baseball game flickered on the TV above.Not nearly good enough of a distraction from his racing mind, still screaminghow could she?
Someone as smart as Eevee should know better than to be this naive.Jack had given them nothing but pain by enforcing his cis-heteronormative ideal of a family, by dragging them to church to ‘cure’ Eevee.And those were the least of his crimes.How could she even consider moving on from that?
The barkeep set the drink down in front of him.A slice of orange was impaled on the side of the glass.Baz tore it off and downed half of the red liquid in one gulp; pure hellfire scorched his throat.At least the bartender listened to him.That made one person.
He dragged a hand down his face.Ruminating about Eevee’s choices would do him no good.He needed to blow off some steam.Preferably in the form of a stranger, gorgeous enough to make him forget—
“Rough day?”A low, velvety voice purred.
Oh, come on.
Baz glanced over his shoulder—and ran straight into Sami Adam’s hazel eyes.
Yes, he had jinxed it, but this wasclearlynot the gorgeous stranger he had asked for!If there was a god, he hated Baz, because why did Sami look so much better in dark jeans and a lacey, see-through white dress shirt than he did in his suit?
“Are you stalking me?”Baz snarled.
“I could ask you the same.I was here first.”
Remember to check bars for idiots, got it… Too late now.
Baz took a sip of his drink, pointedly kept his eyes on the screen.If he ignored Sami for long enough, he’d leave.
Except that Sami pulled out the barstool next to him, scratching the metal feet over the worn-out wooden floor.The earthy smell of oakmoss mixed with tones of lime punched Baz in the face when Sami took a seat.Baz had to stop himself from taking a deeper breath.Just a cologne, who cared?
“Have you not heard that it’s a slippery slope from drinking alone to alcoholism?”Sami asked.
“Aren’t you alone too?”
“Glad I ran into you, then.”Sami flashed a radiant smile, shining brighter than the old, disgustingly white lights above the bar.A dimple was poking through the stubble on his cheek that, unfortunately, suited him much better than the clean shave.
“What got you so down, Bazzy?”
Why was it so hard for people to call him by his approved nickname?
“None of your business.Sammy.“ He spat it just like Ian had, hoping to be treated to the same onset of annoyance he had spotted on Sami’s face the other day.
Instead, Sami huffed.The movement sent his dark curls dancing.
“Creative.Americans have been butchering my name all my life, you really think that still gets under my skin?”
The way he saidAmericanssounded othering.What, was that West Coast accent a ruse?
“And where are you from?California?”
“Nowhere I can go back to, trust me.”
“Why?Got a warrant for your arrest waiting?”Who knew to how many states his drug operation had extended.
Sami’s eyebrow jumped up.“Geez.So hostile for no reason.”And yet, he sounded thrilled instead of doing the sensible thing of leaving.“Are you so insecure that you can’t stand a little heat from the opposition?We haven’t even gotten started yet.”
He slid his elbow closer on the bar, resting his chin on his palm.His hazel eyes were sparkling with something Baz refused to let get to him.
“Oh, I can stand the heat all right.What I can’t stand is someone trying to scam people with cancer out of the settlement money that they need for their medical bills.”
Sami had the gall to snort at that.“Like you care about them.”
“You don’t know me.”Apparently, his own sister didn’t either.Trying to persuade him to play happy family with Jack…
