Page 115 of Wrong For You


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Both are neglected, untouched, and sweating into the coasters. Why I bothered making them on the rocks is beyond me. I didn’t have the nerve to take a sip.

An odd tightness cinches around my lungs. The tradition has become second nature and I’d completely forgotten about it. Just one more pitfall this bar has carved into me. “Nah, I pour an extra for Trevor.”

“Oh.” Her eyes shimmer, reflecting the emotion I cough to hide. She lifts a trembling palm to her lips as a single tear trickles down her cheek. “That’s very sweet.”

“Or pathetic.” I scoff at my own coping mechanisms that have formed lately. “His death has taken a toll on me. Not sure why.”

But deep down, underneath the denial, I could find the truth. I’m just not at that stage yet.

Rylee shuffles forward until we’re close enough to touch. “You guys were friends.”

I cross my arms. “So what? I have plenty of those.”

“Don’t do the detached macho act. Not after that.” She lifts her chin to the sentimental whiskey beside mine.

Discomfort churns in my stomach. This isn’t an easy topic. Trevor might be gone, but I haven’t forgotten. I’m suddenly trapped under the weight of it all. This is too strange.

“Maybe I should go. These walls are too damn loud.” Which is the main reason I’ve kept others out.

“Do you mind if we stay?” She motions from Gage to herself.

“Knock yourself out.” I lean over the counter for a spare set of keys stashed by the register. “It’s your place now, right? Just lock up when you’re done.”

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I check the clock again. Thirty minutes until close. I can survive that long. If only a customer or two would come in and take my mind off food.

As if hearing my silent plea, the door swings open. The bell calls out, and a familiar little figure zooms inside. I peer around the display case that’s obstructing my view. Ollie sends me a beaming smile and my hunger pains are instantly forgotten.

Oh, this kid is going to break so many hearts when he’s older.

“Hi, Miss Braelyn.” Ollie strides up to me like we’re the best of pals. Maybe we already are.

My depleted energy seems to spring back. I give him a wave. “Hey, Ollie. Glad to see you again.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

I shake my head. “Nonsense. You’re right on time. Is Mary with you?”

His forehead creases. “Uh, no. She went home. We would’ve been here sooner, but my dad was working.” Ollie hitches a small thumb over his shoulder.

That’s when the door opens with a bang. A tall man stomps in with the power of a hurricane. Is the ground shaking? If it is, I barely notice.

Holy. Hotness.

Who ordered the sex in a suit?

The guy’s laser focus is on the boy beside me so he doesn’t notice my slack jaw. He’s tall, but not overly bulky. His thick hair is styled in a messy sort of way, and I want to smooth the unruly flyaways. A five-o’clock shadow dusts his jaw, the first signs of stubble barely visible. The contrast between his light eyes and dark features is hypnotic. An impeccable suit covers his broad frame, cut to fit his wide shoulders and trim waist perfectly. He could easily sell this look. Hell, after one glance I’m ready to buy it off him.

He’s fucking lickable.

“Ollie, I told you to wait. Selective listening isn’t cute anymore. Why do you insist on running ahead of me?” The stranger’s boom ricochets around us.

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