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“Next year,” Jamie said, determination lighting his bright blue eyes.
Cam tilted his bottle for another tap. “Will hold you to that.”
“You should go. Get out of here for a bit. You’ve been working nonstop since you moved out.”
“The work keeps me distracted.”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “From?”
He should have let the fool moon. Instead, he had triggered those latent investigative tendencies. Cam took a swallow, then mumbled, “Just adjusting.”
“Everything good with the house?”
The same words from Nic’s text earlier brought the prosecutor to mind again. Jamie was asking about a different house, the one Cam rented from Aidan, but both touched on the same nerve—how out of place he felt here.
“Other than getting the neighbor kid’s mail and learning he’s got an American Express Black Card and a six-figure job.” Jamie whistled low, and Cam nodded. “Twenty-five, fresh out of business school, and just bought a million-and-a-half-dollar cottage.”
“I hate to tell you,” Jamie said, “but the sticker shock never wears off.”
Cam hung his head, picking at the label on his bottle. “Fuck me.”
“You know, if you ever—”
Beer lurched in Cam’s gut. “I’ll manage,” he said, silencing the offer from Jamie he never wanted to hear. He wasn’t that desperate yet. “Aidan’s cutting me a screaming deal on the rent. That’s hard enough to swallow.”
“You’re my best friend, and like I said, you transferring to the field office out here means I can do my dream jobandsleep at night.”
“Next to your hot-as-hell Irishman?” Cam said with a smirk, deflecting.
“Especially that.” Jamie laughed, and the heavy mood lifted. “You’re family, Cam, and you know we take care of family.”
“Like I took care of your grumpy ass through rehab and nerd school?”
Several years Jamie had been in his neck of the woods, getting his crypto grad degree at MIT after an injury ended his NBA career. Before he’d joined the FBI.
“Exactly like that.” Jamie reached a hand across the table, laying it over his. “I couldn’t have asked for a better brother.”
Jamie’s grin, his sincerity, and his blasted sweetness were infectious. Cam let the potent combination wash over him, let it wash away his worries, at least for this weekend. “Me too, Whiskey,” he said, smiling. “And I couldn’t be prouder to stand next to you tomorrow.”
MEL
“Three glasses of Stagg, neat, and”—the bartender placed a salt-rimmed highball on the tray with the whiskeys—“La Paloma.”
Mel signed the bill and closed the billfold, passing it back across the bar. “Much obliged,” she said with a smile, already anticipating the salt, grapefruit, and tequila hitting her tongue.
“You need a refill, just ring up.” The twenty-something bartender threw her a wink. “I’m at your service.”
Mel appreciated the attention, especially from a handsome fellow half her age. She flashed her canary diamond ring all the same, happily married as she was.
“Lucky guy,” the bartender said.
“Lucky me,” she returned, smiling.
She picked up the tray of drinks, balancing it on one hand, a skill she’d perfected as a waitress in her dad’s restaurants, and headed downstairs to the hotel spa. She pushed open the French doors and followed the sounds of voices through the darkened lobby to the lit-up nail lounge in the back. The spa was primarily for facials, massages, and the like, but blowouts and nails were popular with the wedding crowd. Of which they were a part this weekend.
Her husband, half perched on one of the vanities, lifted a cheek for a kiss. Mel gave it to him as she slid the tray onto the gleaming marble next to him. Danny blindly reached for a whiskey, eyes tracking a pacing Aidan. “You sure you want to do this, big bro?” Mel was surprised Danny was questioning Aidan. Then again, no one wanted to deal with Aidan on the warpath after a decision he regretted.
A vanity over, friend and stylist Cory grumbled, “I did not haul my ass all the way out here to this fancy-pants hotel for nothing.”
