Page 54 of Never Let Go

He scoffed. “I’m not one of those guys who suddenly became rich and then stopped caring about saving money.”

I laughed. “Says the guy who bought a military-grade drone for no reason.”

“Hey, I had a reason.” He pumped his eyebrows at me. “I wanted it.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but then my coffee was up and I went to get it before settling in to discuss investment strategies with him. Porter had made something of a study of them after he’d sold his patent and the advice he had was invaluable.

Once we were done, I headed to the office and got to work, burying myself in everything I should’ve done this morning in an attempt to catch up and still make it to happy hour. While I was reviewing the profiles of clients who were struggling to find their perfect match, the box to enter the fake name people used for the dates in order to locate their real profiles was right there.

I was even using it to check who my struggling clients had gone out with so far to see if I could determine what was going wrong. As I typed in yet another name, my fingers itched to delete it and type Amanda’s instead.

All I had to do was type Amanda Ripple into that little box and I’d not only find out her real name, but I’d have access to her entire profile. Her answers to the questionnaire. Feedback she’d provided after the dates we’d had. Everything.

It was beyond tempting, but I resisted. It took everything I had, but by the time I packed up my stuff to meet the guys at the bar, I still hadn’t looked. I sighed heavily as I shut down my computer, knowing that I was doing the right thing but so curious that I almost couldn’t help myself.

Deliberately shoving my chair away from my desk before I caved, I got up and left, not sure if I was being stupid for not just looking. Either way, I could wrestle with it again tomorrow.

For now, I had the ass end of happy hour to catch.

When I got to Crabheads’s, a Scottish-themed whiskey and cocktail bar where the servers wore kilts and there were bagpipes mounted on the walls, Avery, Kane, Porter, and some of our other friends were already there.

Kane started a slow clap when I approached their table. Grinning, he put his hands together and nudged Avery in the ribs to do the same. Porter soon joined in too, and then so did the others. I laughed and shook my head at them, but I still dipped into a low bow and put my hand up behind me.

Porter hooted with laughter. Avery chuckled. Kane stepped forward and extended his hand, giving mine a firm squeeze when I smacked it into his. “Congrats, man. I can’t wait to see this place. After everything Avery told me and then finding out that you made an offer on the spot, I’m really fucking curious.”

I shook his hand and then waggled my eyebrows at him. “You’ll have to wait and see, but I’ll tell you this much in advance. I’m not looking for a roommate. You’re not moving in with me.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Not yet, but when you see that place, you will.” I let go of his hand to greet the other guys, then ordered a double whiskey on the rocks. Then I sat down and told them some more about the apartment.

Avery kept interjecting with realtor-like facts. Square footage, the prime location, the pool, gym, spa, and playground as part of the amenities.

Eventually, Kane smacked the back of his head. “You’ve already sold the damn place. When are you booting out the old owners?”

“I don’t boot them out,” he said with a slight frown and a glance at me. “That’s not how it works, but they’re already not living there anymore. They’re not even coming back to pack up their own stuff. A moving company is doing it for them next week.”

Kane’s brows lifted as he turned to me and grinned. “Housewarming next weekend?”

I chuckled. “I won’t have moved in by then. Once we know the place is in my name, then we can talk about a housewarming.”

“It’s not like the bank has to approve a loan,” he said, but then sighed and backed down. “Fine, but we’re watching the game at your place from now on once you move in.”

“Way to stick me with the clean-up.”

Porter laughed. “That’s the cost of having a Batcave, bro. Sorry, not sorry.”

My head shook but the truth was that I didn’t really mind hosting. In fact, it was probably a good way of pulling myself out of this weird slump I was in.

Everything was looking up and coming up Foster. I just had to do what Porter had said and accept what had happened, but I had a feeling I would only be able to do that once I’d spoken to Amanda about it. Which I was planning on doing on our date tomorrow night.

I didn’t know why it felt like I needed her input on this, but it did. Our brains worked in similar ways and I was hoping she would be able to give me a perspective I hadn’t thought of just yet, but one that would make sense to me.

For the rest of the night, I tried to focus only on where I was and who I was, and I had fun with the guys. After our first few drinks, we made our way to the pool tables toward the back of the bar and I kicked ass, which helped with the having fun bit—until a striking, redheaded beauty came up and put her hand on my shoulder.

I messed up the shot I’d been taking, sinking the black prematurely and losing my first game of the night. Shit.

“You wanna buy me a drink?”