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"Zeke mentioned it." Most people probably wouldn't recognize the lie, but I do.
"Did he now?" I challenge him, calling bullshit.
"Did you want to order something? I have more customers." He sounds bored, and I fight the urge to applaud him. His performance is good.
"I wasn't aware that you work here. I thought you were on a date tonight," I push.
He picks up a glass from somewhere under the counter and starts polishing it with the hand towel he's holding. "Filling in for a friend."
"Yeah, she seemed to have to leave rather urgently." I nod thoughtfully.
Devon's shoulders slump, and he glances in the brunette's direction. I follow his gaze and find her watching us closely.
When he turns to me, his mouth is in a thin line. He's visibly fighting with himself. Opening and closing his mouth, he finally sighs, "You need to stay away from her."
I'm about to reply where he can shove his protectiveness when he adds, "She's not good for you."
Wait, what?
Sheis not good forme? That was not what I was expecting.
"Who is she?"
"She is my best friend. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."
"From me?" I ask incredulously.
"From herself." With that, he turns and walks to the other end of the bar.
The brunette heads back over to my side. After she peers over her shoulder, she plants both palms on the bar and levels me with a serious stare. "You won't get anything out of him."
"Why not?"
"Because he and King have been through hell together."
King. I school my features to not give away that she just provided me with more information than I hoped for.
"What's your name?" I redirect.
I expect her to refuse to answer. Instead, she holds out her hand. "Maggie. But I think you can call me Mags."
"You think?"
"My friends all call me Mags, and I'm sure I'll see you around."
After this bizarre encounter—all three of them—we stayed another thirty minutes before Kai had reached his public limit, and it was time to call it a night. He could finish at home, where I didn't have to watch him too closely. I would simply confiscate his car keys as usual and let him drown his…whatever his reason was that he always drank himself into oblivion.
I dumphim on the sectional in the living room, and he lets his head fall back, eyes closed.
"Why did you chase the girl?" he mumbles, barely audible.
I peer back, assessing his ability to focus on the conversation if I were to tell him what happened a week ago.
Kai opens his eyes and peers at me sideways. "I'm not that drunk, asshole."
I huff out a laugh and make my way over. Dropping on the couch, I plant my feet on the fancy coffee table Kai—or more like his interior designer—furnished the place with.
He turns his head in my direction and waits.
