“You need one?”
“I need something.”
His brow lifted. “That sounded ominous.”
“Then you’re listening well.”
He reached for the bottle on the island and poured tequila into a plastic cup. I took it before he could hand it over properly, tossed it back, and let the burn slide down my throat like a bad decision with a decent aftertaste.
Gage watched my mouth. “You always drink like that?”
“Only when I’m inspired.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It is.”
His smile softened at the edges like maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I wanted him to be. “Aura, I’m going to ask this once because I value my teeth. Are you flirting with me because you want to, or because he’s watching?”
My gaze flicked past him.
Easton’s arm had dropped from around Brinley. She remained beside him, still trying to reclaim his attention, but he had gone still in a way that made the whole kitchen feel smaller.
I looked back at Gage. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he said, surprising me. “Mostly because I like breathing.”
A laugh slipped out, sharp and mean around the edges. “Relax. I’m not asking you to fight him.”
“Good, because I saw him hit a guy into the boards tonight hard enough that I started making better life choices.”
“You’ll survive.”
“That feels like something people say before a funeral.”
I stepped closer until the front of my jacket brushed his shirt. Gage’s eyes dropped, then lifted. He wasn’t immune, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to forget who stood across the kitchen.
“Don’t look at him,” I said.
His mouth curved. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when men need direction.”
“And do I?”
I caught the front of his shirt between two fingers and tugged him half an inch closer. “That depends on how brave you are.”
The air behind me changed.
It went quiet without becoming silent, which was worse. Hockey House had a specific sound when people stopped minding their business but kept pretending they were. Cups paused halfway to mouths, conversations thinned, and someone near the fridge muttered something before getting elbowed hard enough to shut up.
Gage swallowed.
I smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Of you?” he asked.
“Smart answer.”
