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“You’re actually getting better,” he teases.
“Or maybe you’re getting worse?” I mock.
“I highly doubt that.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his chest.
“You could be a gentleman and let me win once in a while.” I smile up at him, the alcohol streaming through my veins, and cup his face. Our lips crash together roughly, but before things get too heated, he puts space between us.
“Gemma, we’re in public in a bar,” he hisses and releases me, then walks around the pool table to call his shot. He doesn’t like PDA because it’s not “professional,” but why can’t he relax for just one night? It’s not like I’m some random chick. I’m his fiancée.
Needing a refill, I head to the bar and order two strawberry margaritas, then bring one back to Katie, who’s laughing at something Tyler said. She thanks me, then I return to Robert and grab my pool stick.
Fuck it. I’m bored and don’t care about this game and purposely sink his ball into the pocket. “Whoopsies.” I shrug, then take down a quarter of my drink, wanting it to take hold quicker.
“Good thing you excel at other things,” Robert says, then takes his turn until he clears the table. His tone isn’t harsh but rather condescending.
Robert continues drinking Grey Goose and Perrier as I sip my margarita. Once our game is over, we go back to the booth and catch up with Katie and Tyler.
“We were just gonna play a round of darts,” Katie tells me as she stands. “Should we play teams?”
I bite down on my lower lip and hesitate before Robert answers. “I’m in. But darling, maybe you should sit this one out?”
Turning, I look at Robert and see he’s serious. What the hell? “I’m fine. I think I can throw a dart.”
He shrugs casually. “Alright, let’s play then.”
We grab the darts and set our drinks on a high top table. Katie goes first, and I watch Tyler stand close to her, whispering in her ear and giving her pointers. She does as he says and throws a bull’s-eye on the first try.
Her arms go up, and she squeals, then Tyler gives her a high-five. I go next and line up my shot with Robert on my right and Tyler on my left. Either the alcohol is hitting me harder or I’m imagining things, but the air is so tense I can almost feel the thickness against my hand as I throw the dart.
I don’t hit the center, but I don’t miss either, so I call that a win. I throw two more, then move so Tyler can take his turn. As we pass, his arm brushes mine. When he’s in place, he glances over at me, smirking.
Tyler narrows in on the target and hits the inner circle perfectly with his second dart. Katie squeals, and they give each other a hug. As he prepares to throw his third, Robert clears his throat and steps closer. “So Tyler. What’d you do to get yourself five years in prison?”
My head nearly explodes at his bluntness. I snap my attention to him and glare. “Robert!” I hiss, wishing he’d stop.
Tyler acts unfazed and continues playing, hitting the ring outside the center.
“Nah, it’s okay. I figured he’d ask eventually since we work together every day, all day.” The corner of Tyler’s lips tilts up in a smug, cocky grin.
Robert continues drinking, then scoops the darts off the table and gets ready to play.
“I got caught up with a mafia family,” Tyler says as Robert puffs his chest out and flicks his wrist forward. The dart lands on the edge of the board.
Robert faces Tyler who acts unaffected, but I feel as if I’m dying inside. Without content, this story sounds worse than it is. “The official charges were for having illegal guns and tons of drugs.”
Tyler lets him gnaw on that piece of information for a minute. Katie and I exchange looks, and I can tell she’s just as uncomfortable as I am.
“I was set up by the mob boss’s daughter for betraying her. After my friend put a gun to her boyfriend’s head, she decided to cough up some cash and pay the judge to give me a lesser sentence.” Tyler glowers.
Robert turns and looks at me incredulously. I lower my gaze, knowing he’ll say something to me later.
“You’re lucky your sister talked Jerry into hiring you. If it were up to me, a criminal wouldn’t be anywhere near that garage.” Robert’s crass words have my heart racing. What the fuck?
“Well, fortunately that’s not up to you,” Tyler retorts, staring at Robert while taking a swig of beer.
“He’s not a criminal. He was framed,” I explain.
Robert glares at me with disapproval in his expression as if he’s my goddamn father. “Did you not hear the part where he worked for a mafia family? He’s far from innocent.”
