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Hazel was behind the bar, filling drinks and delivering food, when we arrived. And most of the Gagnons were here, chatting and playing pool.
Remy was sitting on a stool, drinking water and flirting with his wife while she bustled around. “Good to see you, Parker,” he said, giving me that easy smile. “What can I get you?”
I peeked over at Paz, who was surrounded by several women who were smiling and flipping their hair at him.
My stomach dropped and my fists involuntarily clenched. What the shit was this? Who were these women fawning all over my man?
Pure jealousy took over. It was one of my worst character flaws. I was possessive and jealous, and no matter how much I had tried to hide it in past relationships, I always failed. But this wasn’t even a real relationship.
It didn’t matter. It was the principle. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
I turned to Remy with a smile, and idea forming in my evil brain. “I’ll take a glass of red wine. And could you ask Hazel to make a strawberry daiquiri for Paz? And really do it up. Whipped cream. Sugar rim. That sort of thing.”
Remy gave me an even wider smile. “I knew I liked you. No problem.”
When our drinks were ready, I sauntered over to Paz, plastering a giant smile on my face as I approached the group. One of the women, a tiny blonde, had her hand on his forearm, and I briefly contemplated breaking her fingers.
“Here you are, stud muffin,” I said, kissing his cheek and handing him the pink daiquiri in a fancy hurricane glass. Hazel had not disappointed. She’d decorated it with an excessive amount of whipped cream and two cocktail umbrellas, and she’d finished it off with a cherry on top.
I even reached around and gave his ass a hard squeeze, making his eyes bulge. With a satisfied smile, I turned back to the women, who were now mumbling into their drinks. Was the ass grab necessary? Probably not. But I had no regrets. Like the rest of him, it was all thick muscle.
He raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”
I shrugged, sipping my wine as they walked away. “I don’t share.”
Our gazes locked, just for a moment, and I could feel the heat in his eyes.
“Keep drinking those, and you’ll definitely lose next month.” A man on the shorter side with a friendly smile and dirty blond hair nudged Paz in the ribs, interrupting our stare down.
He held out his hand. “Matt,” he said. “I work for these guys.”
We chatted briefly about the timber business and his family. Matt was easy to talk to. Since we had arrived, a decent-sized crowd had gathered, so after a moment, I let Paz introduce me to several other Gagnon Lumber employees.
I knewofmost of them, having pored through employment records and payroll spreadsheets this week, but it was nice to put faces to names. Especially the crews that worked out in the woods. They were the ones I intended to really dig deep into. The information would hopefully give me insight into the accidents. We continued to chat and enjoy the live music while I got a feel for the scene here.
The bar was busy, filled with young singles, couples on date nights, and a very loud and very hilarious group of senior citizens in one corner, who appeared to be on their second bottle of whiskey. Music blared from an old-fashioned jukebox, the upbeat tunes only adding to the celebratory atmosphere.
It only took minutes to confirm that Paz was the most eligible bachelor in Lovewell. Now that his brothers were off the market, the heads of every woman and even a few of the men had turned the moment he walked in. From the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one affected by the expensive clothes on that rugged, masculine body.
Because even while his arm was around me, we were fending off glares from women of all ages. I swore some were old enough to be his grandmother.
Though we were playing the part of a happy couple, I could see how the cocky persona he employed worked for him. Free from his usual anxieties and self-doubt, he could go out, lean on his charm and good looks, and forget about the pressure and the loneliness for a while.
No wonder his phone was full of women’s numbers. The guy had no coping mechanisms, no hobbies, and no friends outside his family. The reality of it made my chest ache. He had brains and money and ambition to spare, but no connections. So he had turned to casual sex to fill the void.
Except the more I got to know him, to understand him, to peek behind the façade, the harder it was to truly pinpoint the motivation. There was way more to the story. I’d observed him for days now. His empty house and his sleepless nights and his workaholism. How he itched to constantly check on the business and his mother and his siblings. To reassure everyone and make sure every detail was perfect.
Beside me, he was devastatingly handsome. His beard was perfectly trimmed, his lashes thick and dark. What would it be like? To spend the night with him? To be the woman he chose to take home?
To have all that intensity and pent-up frustration focused on me?
I shivered, despite the warm, crowded bar. Because there was no doubt in my mind he’d be focused. He was not the kind of man who half-assed things. Even casual sex.
Those were dangerous thoughts. I was here to work. Not to psychoanalyze and fall in lust with my employer/roommate/fake boyfriend. Nope. This relationship was already complicated enough. Fuck, it had been so much easier when I thought he was an entitled douche canoe.
Despite the flirty glances from half the female patrons, his attention stayed fixed on the men he was still conversing with. And when it wasn’t, it was locked on me. No matter how far I wandered, I could feel his eyes on my skin. It was unnerving and energizing all at once.
The entire population of Lovewell thought I was his girl. And while I usually prickled at the idea of belonging to someone, especially a man, tonight, it gave me a smug satisfaction. Perhaps it was the fake nature of the arrangement, or maybe it was his outwardly flirty smiles.
