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“Good to meet you too . . .”
“Call me Romero. Or Rome,” he offered kindly. “Everyone else does.”
“Well, good to meet you too, Romero. What brings you to Whitecap?”
He threw his thumb in Beau’s direction. “Came for a quick visit. He’s been whining and begging me to come see him, missin’ me something fierce, so I’m here for a couple days to put the big guy out of his misery.”
Like I said . . . charming.
Beau grumbled a few choice words behind the rim of his glass before downing the rest of it. “That’s not how it happened, and you damn well know it,” he grumped.
My gaze tracked to Beau, my smile broadening at the pout marring his handsome features. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and despite the way he was glaring daggers at his friend, I could tell there wasn’t any heat behind it.
I couldn’t help but join in, letting Romero’s infectious energy rub off on me. “That was really nice of you.”
He placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart, his expression growing solemn as he declared, “I’m an amazing friend.”
“And humble,” Beau deadpanned. “Keep it up and you’ll be sleeping on the back deck, asshole.”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it, and at the sound, Beau’s gaze shot to mine, his eyes flaring wide for a second before he smiled back at me, looking like he’d just won the lottery or something.
That smile hit me in a place it had no business hitting, and I quickly looked away, clearing my throat awkwardly as I shifted my attention back to Romero, the much safer option.
“Well, then your next round’s on me. Call it a great friend bonus.”
“What about me, Bubbles? You just gonna leave me hanging?”
Romero’s eyes pinballed between us with far too much glee. “Bubbles? That’s your nickname?Awww. That’s just the stinkin’ cutest,” he declared, propping his chin in the palm of his hand and batting his enviably long lashes.
How was it possible that these two men were such good friends? Romero seemed like the nicest guy in the freaking world. And Beau was, well...Beau. I wasn’t sure how else to describe him other than not Romero.
I shot Beau a glare before turning back to the puppy in human form sitting at my bar. “It’s not cute. He just calls me that because he knows it annoys me. It’s an insult from way back in high school.”
“No, it’s not.” Beau’s brows pulled together, insult etched into his strong features like I’d just slapped him. “I call her Bubbles because she’s got the sweetest, bubbliest personality,” he informed his friend, rendering me speechless. “She’s always had the biggest heart and is kind to everyone she meets.” He looked back at me, one brow rising. “Well, almost everyone.”
“Ah, okay, I get it now.” Romero pointed between the two of us. “You two were high school sweethearts, weren’t you? I can totally see it.”
I blinked like a cartoon character, nearly choking on my own spit. “What? No! God no. Nothing like that.”
His eyes narrowed with skepticism. “You sure about that? Because I’m totally getting a vibe here.Somethinghad to have happened. As my wife would say, I’m shipping the two of you hard.”
What the hell is happening right now?
“That’s not—we aren’t—” I looked to Beau, expecting him to argue just as vehemently as I was attempting to do before my tongue got uncomfortably thick all of a sudden, but instead of correcting his friend’s assumptions, he was watching me like my face held the answers to solving world hunger or who killed JFK or something. He seemed expectant, like he was waiting for my reply before forming one of his own.
I looked away from him, unable to keep my gaze locked with those blue eyes that used to remind me of the coldest, most frigid day, because I was starting to realize, for the first time, that since he’d come back, the ice in those eyes was gone, and instead, they reminded me of the sky on a clear, sunny, cloudless day.
“We, uh. We weren’t... like that.” Those words tasted like an over-ripe lemon on my tongue, one that had passed its peak.
Romero looked genuinely confused as he turned to his friend. “For real?” He flicked his finger between us. “You two really weren’t together?”
His eyes never wavered from my face as he answered in a low voice, “I never deserved her.”
Talk about a direct hit. I wasn’t sure how the hell I could survive a statement like that. Especially after the kiss we’d shared and the tempting things he’d said in that alcove.
Fortunately—at least, I thought it was fortunate—Freddy spoke up from his spot a little farther down the bar.
“Not a man on this earth good enough for a woman like our Presley. But she at least deserves a man who’s willing to try. Ifyou ask me, it’s a crying shame someone as wonderful as her is still single. A travesty. Just waiting for the day when the man meant for her pulls his head outta his ass and realizes he needs to start pulling out all the stops.”
