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Whenever I tried to tell myself Roy couldn't possibly be any more perfect, he pulled another adorable rabbit out of his bloody hat.
Not fair, universe.
“I hope they bite. They're doing a wonderful job, and I'd like it if they got more donations.”
Roy didn't say anything more. He simply smiled, and before I could start another topic, we'd arrived at our destination.
***
The pavement before Ganymede was packed with people already, but as far as I could tell, none of the Grants were among them. They stood out in a crowd—much like the Tigris next to me, who shielded me with his body from being pushed by the others in the queue.
Roy insisted on paying for me as a thank you for me taking him along. I squeezed his forearm in thanks, wondering if I should point out that I hadn’t brought him just to get him out of the house. That I genuinely wanted him to come.
I knew I’d be perfectly safe in the company of Mason and his brothers—they might have more sarcasm between them than the country had as a whole, and their banter usually turned dirty within a couple of minutes, but all three of them were great guys. I still wanted Roy there, wanted to get him to let go with me, to whisper filthy things into my ear as we ground together on the dance floor.
The Grants waited for us in one of the booths. They looked like the devilishly hot version of the Last Judgement, three sides of the same coin.
Penn, the bulkiest of the three, with his mop of dark hair tumbling elegantly into his brow, scruffy beard framing the plushy lips and piercing blue eyes behind navy blue glasses. Mason, three-day stubble on his long face, black mane drawn back into a bun drawing the attention to all the silver glinting against his tattooed skin, and soft faced Ed with his glossy curls, the Golden Retriever Grant, who as a tattoo artist sported more ink than his brothers combined.
I felt Roy's body go rigid at my back when Ed jumped up to hug me, then the youngest Grant moved on to shake his hand, causing him to relax again. Once he’d greeted Penn and Mace, he leaned in, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.
“I’ll go get us drinks, okay? IPA for you if they have it?”
Goosebumps raced down my body as I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I’ll come with you, mate.” Mace slid out of the booth, clapping Roy on the arm in a we’re-in-this-together manner.
They’d barely left when Ed turned to me, a big grin on his face.
“Kat, it’s so good to see you. Come on, spill the beans about your boyfriend while he’s gone.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Ed!”
Penn leaned around his brother and smirked at me before finishing his whisky. “Or friend with benefits. You know we don’t judge, Kathryn.”
“Guys! He’s a friend, no benefits.” The oldest Grant cocked a thick black eyebrow at me. “Well, okay, maybe a few.”
“Knew it.” He nudged Ed with his elbow.
“You’re unbelievable.” Huffing a laugh, I rolled my eyes at him but Penn simply grinned.
“I thought we’d already established that, Miss McGowan.”
That we had indeed. At our second meeting, the Grants had insisted on sharing the story of the matching piercings they’d gotten as a token of their brotherhood. A drunk Ed had almost stripped to prove their point when I hadn’t believed them at first.
“I’m still shell-shocked.”
“Oh, come on, a lot of men have pierced dicks. You’re such a prude, Kat.”
“Insulting our friend already, Penn?” Mason’s icy voice made Ed flinch hard, before he laughed.
Penn accepted another glass of whisky from his brother. “Kat is much too nice to be insulted by my stupidity.”
Barely able to meet Roy’s eyes, I took the beer he offered. I'd wanted him to enjoy the evening, not feel uncomfortable in our presence.
He leaves for a few minutes and you're talking dick piercings. Great.
“Next round’s on me,” I muttered, my face still glowing as bright as the setting sun. He sat down next to me, moving in so that his thigh was pressed to mine.
