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“Why are you telling us this?”
He slows just before we reach the table Soph and Jay are already sitting at. “Because they’re my brothers by choice. We’re family because of the things we’ve seen and done together. You’re their brother by blood, and there’s only so long they’re gonna deny that. I’d like to get in now and make sure you’re legit. We can be pals, but I assure you, anything you say or do can be used against you.” He stops and grins for me. “Like my cop speak? Sexy, right?”
“Totally sexy.” I laugh for Spence, but it gets louder when Gunner growls under his breath because I called someone other than him sexy.
We approach the table, and because it’s somehow easier, I’m the sacrificial lamb that sits between Jay and Gunner. Soph sits on Jay’s other side, and Spence on the end. Without verbally announcing it, the men are working together to encase the women in the middle for what I assume is protection.
What are they protecting us from? And how can they not see the way they work together, even without words?
Not long after sitting, a tall shadow at the front door makes at least half of the bar’s occupants stop and take notice.
None of us fit in here. The other people in here wear skirts or Wranglers, boots, and cowboy hats. Many wear oversized buckles on their belts, and a few somehow rolled in off the ranch, complete with spurs and dust on their boots.
But the Bishops wear muscle shirts. Spence wears camouflage pants as though they’re the only pants he owns. And the man at the door, our Romeo, is tall and broad like Spence. He wears a black shirt that encases what I would consider massive biceps. His chest is thick, broad, and his neck is thick.
He and Spence could compete in size, but when Romeo steps into view and zeros in on our group, Spence’s easy nature vanishes into plumes of smoke. He sits taller and sets the rest of us on edge with his intensity.
Why do we need muscle?
Why do we need a sharpshooter?
And how the hell have I ended up here, in this bar, when not so long ago, I was so straight, I was at risk of snapping?
“Guys, meet my friend,” Sophia makes the introductions. “We call him Romeo, and if you wanna step up and demand to know his real name, then I won’t get in between the alpha asshole bullshit. Or you could respect his privacy, and enjoy knowing he’s one of us.”
Spence’s eyes strangely narrow. His hands ball, and his lips thin. But when Romeo extends a hand across the table, Spence takes it and shakes. “Romeo.”
Romeo’s lips lift just the tiniest of fractions. “Serrano. Good to see you again.”
“Again?” Soph shoots forward in her seat and demands her shooter’s eyes. “What?”
“Don’t like surprises, do you Ace?” Romeo stops in front of Soph, and when Jay’s teeth practically pull back in a snarl, he chuckles and pulls the ballerina up into a fast hug. “Good to see your face.”
“We spoke just today.”
“True.” He pulls back. “I heard your voice, but I so rarely get to see your face.”
“What’s your name, soldier?” Veins bulge in Jay’s neck. His hand wraps around Soph’s hips as he pulls her back down to sit beside him, and when he pulls her almost into his lap, she laughs and makes him a little madder. “They call you Romeo, but I’m gonna need a name.”
“Nah.” The guy shakes his head and continues on down our line like it’s okay not to shake Jay Bishop’s hand. He winks at me, takes my hand without asking, and gives it a gentle shake. “Romeo.”
“Libby.”
Gunner growls. Jay growls. Everyone is a jealous fool, and Romeo is enjoying it immensely.
“Nice to meetcha, Libby. You lift? I can see the definition in your shoulders.”
“Only sometimes.” I shrug, and when I catch Soph’s grin, I have to drop my eyes and pretend I’m shy. I’m not, but if I smile at this man just once, we’re both going to be in big trouble. “You?”
He chuckles. Spence chuckles. I chuckle. And then Gunner’s hand is where mine was, his chest bulging with adrenaline and what some call hisobsessionwith me. “Neither of these women are single.” He even includes Soph when he nods between us. “Don’t try it, or you’ll lose both of your fuckin’ hands. What’s your name?”
“Romeo.” The handsome man who looks to be a mix of white and Portuguese takes his hand from Gunner’s and makes his way to the end of the table to sit by Spence. “These dudes always this tense?”
“Only when you eye-fuck their women. Apparently, it’s frowned upon.” He shrugs, and flashes a wide grin. “Info went out in the last company newsletter.”
“You haven’t changed one bit.” Romeo claps Spence on the shoulder and continues to ignore Soph’s question as a server comes to our table and takes orders. Strangely – or maybe not so strange, I guess – no one orders alcohol. No casual beer. No glass of whiskey on ice. The guys tend toward soda, the girls ask for orange juice, and when our drinks come out a minute later, Romeo sips and sends Sophia insane with curiosity. “It kills you not knowing everything, huh?”
“Yes! Tell me.”
