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ME ~ABORT. Brent is here . . . AND Peter. I’m out.~
My phone starts ringing before I can even slide it back in my pocket. I answer, whisper-hissing into it, “What?”
“Where are you? I’m at the bar. I don’t see Brent. And who’s Peter?” Amy asks way too casually.
The people I’m using for cover sidestep, leaving me out in the open. I panic and dive behind a couch in the lounge area to my left.
“Wait, I just saw you. You’re on the ground, aren’t you?”
“What? I was like Flash fast, dude. You couldn’t have seen me,” I snap.
I’m greeted by silence.
“Amy? You still there?”
“Hannah?” a male voice I unfortunately recognize very well comes from above me. I tip my head back, meeting Brent’s blue eyes as he stands over me.
“Oh, hi, Brent. Fancy seeing you here,” I chirp.
“What are you doing down there?” he asks then hiccups.
He’s drunk. Thank God. I get to my feet then hold out my phone. “Dropped this.”
Brent sways a little but braces himself with a hand on the couch. “Really? ’Cause it looked like you dive-bombed the floor.” He smiles his big, adorable, boy-next-door smile.
“Hey, Brent! How’s it going?” Amy appears, giving him a friendly shoulder bump as she comes to a stop beside him. She sniffs then scrunches her nose. “Why do you smell like you pissed yourself?”
His eyes widen, and he sways again. “What? No I don’t.”
“Umm, yeah ya do. You might wanna call it a night, big man.” She shoots him a wink then steps toward me, holding out her elbow to me.
I don’t waste a second, looping my arm through hers and striding away as fast as my Chucks will take me. “Thank you for saving me,” I whisper and press a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Sometimes, I don’t know what you’d do without me.”
“Thank God I’ll never have to find out.” We grin at each other as we reach the dining area, and one of the hostesses, Breanna, leads us through the crowded tables.
“Did you hear the new owner is in tonight?” Breanna asks as we sit.
I scan the room automatically. We haven’t met yet, so I don’t know who exactly I’m looking for. All I know is he’s some rich dude who knows nothing about marine ecology but obviously has a good nose for business, because this place is booming.
Breanna points to one of the partitioned-off private rooms on the mezzanine. “He’s up there. God, he’s dreamy. Like, hot, dirty dreams, not that flowers-and-rainbow shit.”
I choke on my water. “Good to know.” I chuckle.
“Anyway, Mira says he’s here with his cousin, and hot damn, that guy is smokin' too. Those boys must come from good stock, ’cause they’re tall, dark, and hella handsome.” She bites her ruby-red bottom lip. “What I wouldn’t do to be the meat inthatsandwich.”
My interest is officially piqued. Bree is very selective, and her standards are outrageously high, so these guys must really be something special.
Glancing at Amy, her gaze is fixed on the room Bree pointed out, then her head tilts to the side. She whimpers and her jaw slackens. I click my fingers in front of her face. “Ames, are you having a stroke?” Shit, what are the signs of stroke again? I run through my medical training.
Amy shakes her head, snapping out of her daze, and stares at me. “What are you talking about? I’m not having a damn stroke. Look!” she says, jerking her chin in the direction she was just stroking out in. I shift my gaze, and it all makes sense. I’m feeling a little strokey myself now.
Two of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on are nearing the bottom of the stairs, and I think I’m drooling a little. I track their movement to the bar where the slightly shorter of the two summons the bartender, Mike, over and talks to him for a moment before Mike points. Right. At. Me.
Holy crap on a cracker.They’re heading this way. Oh my God, they’re heading this way.
Amy kicks my shin under the table. “What are you doing? Close your damn mouth and be cool!” she hisses.
