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“Shall we go?” I grab Tug’s arm, yanking him toward the door. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home.”
“It was nice seeing you both again.” Tug nods to my parents.
“Thank you, Aidan.” My mother actually squeezes his cheeks. “Such a sweet boy.”
Poor Tug flames red. He kisses my mother’s cheek and shakes my father’s hand again before I practically yank him through the door.
***
Tug and I have dinner in the restaurant of his hotel. We laugh and talk about his business dealings. He tells me about his plans to expand Gibson Capital globally. He brags about takeovers and mergers. He’s a shark. There’s darkness behind his eyes when he talks about it. I hate that it’s there. It scares me a little. Some of the things he says shock me. He’s detached from his customers and his clients. I guess he has to be. He can’t be emotionally involved when he’s taking a company out from under someone. He steers clear of any “Brady” conversation, which I’m grateful for. We share a bottle of wine and a divine chocolate cake. I’m stuffed, and my belly hurts from laughing. Thinking on it, the moments in my life when I’ve laughed the most have been with Tug.
He’s different now, more mature, but he’s still capable of brightening up my worst day. Under that gruff businessman façade is my Tuggy. I love that I can bring him out.
After dinner, Tug offers to take me home. I’m not ready to go yet and suggest a few drinks at the bar. Truthfully, I’m not ready to let him go yet. This is the happiest I’ve felt in ages. When we sit at the bar, Tug orders two shots of Blue Sapphire. There’s a sneakiness behind his smile that worries me. “Gin’ll make you sin.”
I feel the flush in my cheeks at his crassness. Does he expect something to happen here? My cheeks burn feverishly. My lips part to say something.
Tug stops me. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tor. It was a joke.”
Oh. I relax with a smile, feeling the relief wash over me. The bartender sets the shots down in front of us. Tug picks his up and holds it in the air. I follow and lift my glass, shooting him a puzzled look. “Here’s to new beginnings for you. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.”
I’m at a loss for a proper response. I toss the shot back, screwing up my face as the alcohol burns my throat. Tug orders two more shots and tells the bartender to leave the bottle. I grab one of the shots, hold it in the air, and say, “Here’s to friendship.” I swallow the shot down and wait for Tug. He watches me with amusement before tossing his back. I want know what he’s thinking. I smile awkwardly and turn my head.
Tug throws a hundred bucks on the bar and picks up the bottle of gin. With his free hand, he helps me from the stool. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I’m giggling as he drags me behind him. The effects from the alcohol make me feel like I could float away.
“To my room.”
There’s something alarming in his tone that freezes me in place. I nearly fall over as Tug keeps pulling. He spins to face me.
“What?” Is he delusional? I just toasted our friendship.
He smiles mischievously. Oh, no. He does think there’s more going on here than friendship. Did I mislead him? I’m trying to think of what I might have said or done when Tug says, “I’ve been practicing.” His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.
Ew! Practicing? I fight off the pictures of Tug “practicing” that are forcing their way into my brain. My nose scrunches together and I shake my head. God, please make it stop!
Tug burst into a fit of laughter as he releases my hand. “Oh, shit!” He points at me. “You thought I meant sex.” He tries to continue, but he’s laughing so hard the words don’t thread together clearly. This makes me start laughing hysterically. My eyes water as I watch Tug’s red face while he tries to compose himself.
“Poker, pretty girl,” he finally manages to tell me before grabbing my hand and walking toward the elevators. “I think I can finally beat you.”
Oh. God, I feel so stupid. He starts to walk but then turns to face me again. I don’t notice and smack right into his chest. When I look up, I see the darkness in his eyes, like it was when he talked about his work. “When it comes to sex, I’m an expert.”
I shiver runs ups my spine to the nape of my neck. My knees are wobbling so violently, I’m not certain if I can walk. I watch as he strides confidently to the elevator. I can’t believe he said that. I’m not sure I know Tug at all anymore. It’s as though the day his mother shot herself he morphed into a man – a slightly terrifying man – that for some reason, I’m suddenly attracted to. This is so wrong. I can’t feel like that about him. I shake my thoughts away and follow him.
Tug’s suite is enormous, with more crystal and glass than our drunk asses should be around. One wall is nothing but windows overlooking the lake. There’s a full-size dining room table with leather high-back chairs. On the other side of the room is a living area with white streamlined sofas and chairs. A large flat-screen hangs against the wall. I turn to see him watching me with his arms over his chest.
“Are you staying here with other people?”
He lifts an eyebrow questioningly. “Nope…just me.” He strides over and stands next to me.
“Why do you need such a big room?”
He shrugs. “Tax write-off.”
“Shut up!” I smack him playfully on the arm, feeling a little tipsy.
“Come!” he orders before walking over to the windows.
