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“Shouldn’t,” Ugly clarifies. “We can’t tell you who to hook up with or not, but if you want to avoid trouble then yes, there’s a list.”
“Meaning if we want to go looking for some fun, we need to have you or Boomer with us to make sure we don’t end up with a stage-five clinger?” Legacy asks, the grin he’s had since he arrived still taking over most of his handsome face.
It’s almost as if the man can’t believe that it’s real—his acceptance into Cerberus. I remember feeling much the same way when I first stepped onto the property.
“Drake, the bartender, can help you out as well,” Ugly replies.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Bishop adds, making me wonder exactly what they talked about moments ago.
“He’s the best. Just look at him when approached by one of the women in the bar. He’ll either nod or give you a headshake. I’d heed his warnings.”
Stormy nods at Ugly as if he’s a sponge soaking all this information up.
“He wouldn’t shake his head because it’s someone he wants?” Bishop asks, as he tilts his bottle of beer to his lips.
“I doubt it,” Ugly answers. “He’s more likely to have his eyes set on one of the dudes, which brings me to another point. If you have any problem with getting flirted with by a guy, you’ll need to get over it. Drake can’t control it. If his eyes are open, the man is flirting with people.”
Ugly sweeps his eyes over the three new guys standing in front of us, but none of them seem disgusted by the instruction.
“And if you lean in that direction, I’ve heard good things about him. Just don’t break his heart. He’s the best bartender ever.”
I nod in agreement, refusing to let that green-eyed monster show at Ugly suggesting one of the guys hook up with Drake. I have no right to feel the way I do. I don’t own the man, but it’s not like it’s something I can control.
“And what about,” Stormy says, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret, “the orgies?”
“We haven’t had any since the two of us arrived,” Ugly says, twitching a finger between him and me. “Other than the two of us, everyone in our group has already fallen in love and shit.”
Stormy’s nose scrunches in disgust as if Ugly just said people are eating raw meat rather than finding their happily ever after.
“But,” Ugly hedges with a wide grin. “With six new members and all the people coupled up moving out, maybe it’s something we can arrange.”
This news makes Stormy incredibly happy, and I’m surprised he doesn’t rub his hands together in delight.
“That,” Ugly says in a different tone that grabs my attention before I can look back at Drake. “Will be a problem.”
“It’s nothing,” Bishop says, but it takes him a little longer than it should to pull his eyes off Rivet and Cannon as they stand on the other side of the pool, speaking with Shadow and Misty, Cannon’s parents.
“Kincaid won’t tolerate any bad blood.”
“It’s nothing,” Bishop repeats before walking away.
I look to Ugly for an explanation, but don’t open my mouth to ask.
I know these guys are top notch. They wouldn’t be here if Kincaid found any issues with them, but they’ve been at the clubhouse a handful of hours, and I’m just not comfortable picking at what appears to be old wounds in front of men I don’t know.
Ugly goes right back into talking about the orgies he’d like to see happen.
I stand there, knowing I’d never participate in what Ugly, Stormy, and Legacy are planning, but I also can’t walk away. My positioning gives me a direct line of sight to the sexy bartender.
“He has a crush on you.”
I snap my eyes up, finding Bishop standing right beside me.
He must’ve left to go to the restroom or something because he wasn’t gone very long. Thankfully, Drake is pouring a drink for Jasmine, grinning at her like they’re best friends rather than looking in my direction.
“He was flirting with you when you got your drink earlier. I saw it in his eyes.”
“Drake flirts with everyone,” I say, pulling my eyes from the guy in question slowly because jerking my eyes away would say more than I’d like it to. “It drives his tips up.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is,” Bishop says, his tone saying he doesn’t believe it at all.
I open my mouth to argue and reiterate what Ugly had said earlier about Drake’s relentless flirting, but Ugly speaks first.
“How about it?”
“How about what?” I ask, giving him all my attention, because staying on the other topic of conversation can’t happen.
I can’t consider Drake actually liking me rather than just having fun with what we’ve done together so far. It opens up doors I need to keep closed in order to keep a handle on my guilt.
