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“Chivalry at its finest. Anywho,” Harper pivots the topic with a glance at me. “All joking aside, what’s with your blatant refusal to even consider a serious relationship?”
Ridge rubs his chin. “Now that you mention it, he hasn’t told me either.”
And that’s how I plan to keep it. The past is buried, along with my trust in fidelity. “I don’t think it’s fair for only one cowgirl to keep me saddled and ridden for the rest of my virile years. It’s not considerate to the female population. More so, I’m not interested in being a prize pony. Period.”
Harper’s stare narrows into a shrewd point, peeling away more layers than I’m comfortable with. “Who broke your heart, wild stallion?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We’re done dissecting my nonexistent belief in love.”
“Maybe it’ll just take the right girl to restore your faith,” she muses.
“Doubt it.”
Harper swivels to the entrance in a purposeful action. “Why don’t we ask her?”
As if staged, Grace opens the front door. She struts into my cock den like the last hen who has any clucks to give. A single once-over has me dizzy with want. Her tan skin glows under the dim lights. Long hair cascades in glossy waves, tempting me to fist the strands and bend her over the rail. I widen my stance to conceal the evidence of what that visual does to me. Grace’s piercing stare meets mine as if my filthy imagination is whispering in her ear. A coy grin curls her painted lips, revealing that I’m busted either way.
My gaze drops again to appreciate the entire package she presents. Black fabric clings to her body in a seamless line. The tight dress is made for sin, along with each luscious curve it accentuates. Her figure is full and juicy, dripping with seduction. She reminds me of a ripe peach. Motion on my left reminds me that we’re not alone in the room.
“Holy hotness,” Harper praises from her stooped position beside me. “That woman is certifiably bangable. I’d totally wife her.”
“You’re already engaged,” I remind.
“Jake won’t care, but I suppose he did claim me first.” She snaps her fingers. “Aw, shucks. But my loss is someone else’s gain. She’s gonna get hitched real quick.”
That thought doesn’t sit right with me, which I immediately smother. Especially when Grace slides onto the empty stool in front of me. Her keen awareness sweeps across the open space. A deep crease forms between her brows as she completes the inspection.
“Where is everyone?”
“Just waiting for you to arrive, soulmate.” I wink at her.
Ridge and Harper exchange several murmured words. Their chatter draws Grace’s attention away from me. Her eyes gravitate toward the retired hockey star. The urge to shift and block her visual path to him flexes my muscles. It’s a pointless instinct, mostly because Ridge is only interested in one girl who’s more than likely already tucked in bed. But more than that—Grace isn’t mine. She never will be.
The reminder injects another dose of reality into me. I cast my most flirtatious smirk at her, the one reserved for big tippers. “Sit tight. Marriage material candidates will flock faster than we can serve them.”
Her doubt peers at the empty seats surrounding her on every side. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Such little faith,” I scold.
“Hypocrite.” A muffled cough calls me out.
A glance over my shoulder exposes the guilty party. I’m not sure when Drake wandered from the safety of his office sanctuary to join the peanut gallery. Now isn’t the moment to evaluate his strange habits. A delicate throat clearing draws my attention back to where it belongs.
“Are you doing deals on specialty cocktails? Joy told me there’s an event.” Grace tucks some dark hair behind her ear.
I track the simple motion, my fingers itching to repeat it for her. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. Something like”—Grace leans in and lowers her voice—“Pussy in Paradise. I’m assuming that’s your version of a ladies’ night.”
The whispering behind us grows in volume thanks to Drake’s involvement. I’ll never regret opening a bar with my two best friends, especially when they let me rule the roost, but this sudden hovering is making me wish their partnership was silent. These grumpy bastards need to get laid and leave me to handle business.
It’s easy to ignore them when Grace spoils me with a shy smile. “I’m getting the impression that your sister was stretching the truth.”
“Just the clit.” I spin a fingertip against my palm to mimic pleasuring that elusive bundle of nerves. “Tuesday evenings are notoriously slow. The entire day actually. I wish I could take credit for that creative title, though.”
Harper smacks my arm. “We should have themed activity nights!”
I rub my forehead. “If you were left in charge, our casual sports bar would be renovated into a frilly dance club.”
