by H L Day
"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
"Don't flatter yourself. You don't enter into my thinking whatsoever. Not one little bit. Not even for a minute. Not even..." I stopped. Too much. I pulled myself up to my full height and looked him straight in the eye. "Two bottled beers."
"Indy."
"What?"
"My name."
"I don't need to know your name in order to get beer, do I?"
His mouth twitched. "Not to get beer, no. But I figured it might be useful later."
"Later?" The word was out before I could stop myself from falling into his trap.
He leaned closer. "Yeah, when we give in to this attraction between us. You'll need to have something to whisper into my ear."
A frisson of electricity danced its way down my spine. God, I hated this man. I hated how attractive he was. I hated the fact that he couldn't even remember being part of one of the most traumatic events in my life. I hated how flirtatious and open he was. But... and this was the thing that rankled the most. I hated the fact that despite our past history, I was still attracted to him. I wanted to peel away his clothes and find out what the rest of the tattoo was that I could see peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Except I hated tattoos. So why would I want to do that? It made no sense.
I scanned the interior of the bar, but given how early it was, it was virtually empty. There wasn't going to be any rescue from that quarter. Rescue. Jesus! What was I? A damsel in distress who needed saving from the big, bad bartender and his sexual overtures? I sought to get myself back on an even keel. "What kind of name is Indy? Were you conceived in the back of a car in Indiana? Or do you spend your weekends searching for holy relics?"
Indy's eyebrows rose. "I'll pass your theory on to my mum. I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear how classy you think she is."
Shit! The dig had been aimed at him. Not his mum. I opened my mouth and then closed it again. He reached behind him, opening the fridge to extract two bottles of beer. "And the answer is neither. I live close by. There's not a lot of relics here, holy or otherwise. It's short for Indigo. You know, like the color. Just think of me as your own personal rainbow."
My lip curled. More like the rainstorm that came before it.
He held the beers out, but when I tried to take them, he moved them back out of my reach. "Price of the beers is your name."
What a fucking idiot! "Just give me the beers."
He shook his head, his lips curving into that damn smile again. His gaze lifted to
over my shoulder. "Your friend seems like he's getting impatient."
My friend? Fuck! I'd almost forgotten Dom was waiting. Dom, who was going to spill all the gory details about whatever had transpired between him and Tristan. Details I was supposed to be desperate to know. Except there I was at the bar, letting myself get embroiled in Indy's little fantasies that were never going to happen. I made another grab for the beer, but again, he was much quicker. I sighed before relinquishing my hold on the piece of information that was apparently the magic password to getting what I wanted and escaping him. "Paul."
Indy stepped forward, placing the bottles into my outstretched hands. "See! That wasn't so hard, was it?"
As I fumbled in my pocket for the money to pay for the beers, he shook his head. "They're on me. I told you the price of the beers was your name, and you've paid it."
I glared at him. "I'd rather pay. In money."
"And I'd rather buy you a drink."
"I don't want..." This was pointless. All I was doing was prolonging the conversation. What did it matter if he was stupid enough to buy drinks for me? It wasn't going to convince me to fall into bed with him. So, more fool him. "Fine!" I turned on my heel and walked away, his husky laughter ringing in my ears.
Dropping into the seat opposite Dom, I passed one of the beer bottles over. He stared at me for a moment before inclining his head toward the bar. "Cute."
I followed his gaze. Instead of serving the group of customers that had just walked in, Indy had his chin propped on his hand and was watching me. What's more, he wasn't even bothering to try and disguise it. What was with the guy? Did he get off on people playing hard to get? I'd always thought Stephen's story about being pursued had seemed a little too convenient, but now with the evidence right in front of me, it seemed far more believable.
I pulled a face. “How can you tell under all the tattoos and piercings?”
Dom smirked. “He obviously likes you.”
Shrugging, I did my best to come off as suitably blasé. "Not my type. Besides, he’s like that with all the customers. He’s got to get his tips somehow.” I picked up my beer and took a long swallow. I needed to change the subject, and fast. “Speaking of tattoos and piercings, does Tristan have any hidden away?” I bet he doesn't have one on his neck like a certain somebody that I wasn't going to think about.
Dom sat back and reached for his own beer. He held it to his mouth, but didn't drink from it, giving the distinct impression that it was more as a prop to hide his facial expression. “I assume you don’t actually want an answer to that question?”
Interesting. I'd only ever seen Tristan in a suit, so a tattoo was entirely possible. “Why. Does he?”
My very evasive friend shook his head. "No."
“So you saw enough to know?”
Dominic's glare was reminiscent of mine toward Indy. It had about as little effect as well. “You were the one who said you wanted to talk about it.”
He finally took a few gulps of his beer before pushing the bottle away from him. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, it’s not... I can’t... I don’t know...”
Dom was cute when he spluttered. Whatever had happened the previous night had really fried his brain. “Well, that’s clear. I tell you what. I’ll make it easier for you. I’ll guess at what I think might have happened, and you can just agree or disagree.” There was a loud laugh from over by the bar. Indy's laugh. I had no idea how I knew that, but I did. It wasn't as if there'd been a whole lot of laughing going on while he'd been scrambling for his clothes. It probably wasn't him. Just my brain playing tricks on me.
Dom nodded and I made an effort to concentrate on him, thinking carefully about the best place to start to ensure he didn't clam up. "So..." I leaned forward, studying his face. I'd need to see it clearly in order to know the line of questioning to go down depending on his reactions. “He drove you home. He obviously came in with you. You both had a fair amount to drink.” Another laugh from the bar, this one even louder. Definitely him. God knows what was so funny. Maybe he'd spotted a couple to break up. At least if he was laughing, it meant he was no longer watching me.
Dom shook his head. There went the drunken-mistake excuse then. I'd have laid bets on that being the most likely explanation. “You were both sober?”
“He had a couple of beers. I don’t know what he’d had to drink at the party, but he’d driven and he seemed fine. I hadn’t really had anything.” He pointed at the bottle on the table. “Less than I’ve had just now.”
“You said earlier, he... came on to you?”
Another nod. This time accompanied by a sheepish expression. “He was... erm... quite insistent.”
Like someone else I could name, not a million miles away. Maybe they were related.
None of what he'd said so far fit the narrative I'd built up of Dom having a crush on a straight guy. There was still an awful lot of unpacking to do to work out what was going on. “He’s hardly the first straight guy to be tempted into a blow job from a gay guy. That’s as far as it went, right?” Dom suddenly gained an intense interest in the table in front of him. It was like the pen in the office all over again. I leaned closer still. “Okay. It went further than that. You had sex!”
His gaze flicked to mine. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“Both. Neither. Shit!” This wasn't what I'd been expecting to find out. I picked my beer up and finished the rest, wishing I'd go
tten something a bit stronger—like methanol. I placed the empty bottle back on the table. “He fucked you?”
Dom drank the rest of his own beer before nodding slowly.
Even though I'd asked the question, I'd still been expecting some sort of denial. This kind of behavior so wasn't Dom. Particularly when he'd done nothing but moan about how irritating and annoying he was for the last few weeks. “You fucked the boss!”
Dom's eyes grew wide, his head turning to check who was in hearing distance of my rather loud statement. He had a point. It wasn't as if it was just the two of us who tended not to stray too far from the company's doorstep. Luckily, there was no one about that either of us recognized.
I stood up. “We need more beer for this.” There were some things that surpassed trying to avoid the flirty banter of an irritating barman who'd ruined my life. Finding out that one of my closest friends had slept with the straight, engaged CEO of the company I worked for was one of them.
Dom smiled. “Make sure to flirt with the cute bartender. You could ask him where to get a tattoo done.”
There was no fitting response to that sort of comment except to stick my middle finger up at him as I walked off. Dom simply laughed as I'd known he would.
With the place starting to fill up, I was relieved to see that Indy was no longer alone behind the bar. He'd been joined by another dark-haired guy. That must have been who he'd been having such a hysterical time with. I deviated from my route slightly, heading for the side of the bar where the other barman was serving. I'd gotten as far as opening my mouth to order when Indy insinuated himself between the two of us. "It's okay, Rick. This one's mine."
The bartender—Rick, apparently—shrugged, moving aside to serve someone else before I got a chance to protest. I counted to ten slowly. If this was the kind of single-minded pursuit Stephen had been subjected to, then I might even start feeling sorry for my ex-boyfriend. "I'm not yours."
Indy winked. "Figure of speech."
He'd removed his jacket, leaving a perfect view of the tattoos that snaked over both arms. Quite literally in the case of the right arm, where a brightly colored snake had been captured with its mouth open, poised to devour a spider. He lifted his arm as he caught me staring, tilting it to make the picture clearer. "You like?"
"I hate tattoos." Ha! That had to wipe the smile off his face.
He shrugged. "I'm sure they'll grow on you."
"Like fungus?"
His brow furrowed. "You know, it's weird, sometimes I think you seem slightly familiar. Have we met before?"
Finally! It was about time the penny dropped. I wasn't going to make it easy for him though. "I don't know. Have we?"
He craned his neck, pretending to study me. "I'd have to look at you for longer. Maybe over dinner sometime?"
I let out a huff of disbelief. "You're asking me out on a date?"
He smiled. "Yes, I'm asking you out on a date. I thought I'd better do it today, in case you disappear again. Like you did last time. So what do you say?"
"Why?"
He leaned closer over the bar, his voice lowering to a husky whisper and his teeth biting into his lower lip in a way that made me wish it was my teeth his lips were trapped between. "I think we could have a good time together. Does there need to be any more of a reason than that? I think you're hot. Very hot. There you go, I've said it."
I gestured around the interior of the bar. "Me and the other ten men you've been flirting with tonight."
He straightened up, the expression on his face none too happy. "I think you've got me all wrong. I don't know why when we don't even know each other."
I resisted the urge to give him a round of applause for finally clueing into the fact that his interest wasn't reciprocated. It had taken long enough. "Listen, Indigo."
The frown grew deeper. "Indy. No one calls me by my full name."
"You and me going out on a date is never going to happen, Indigo. Now can I get some beer or do I have to climb over the bar and help myself?"
He sighed, his fingers tracing random patterns on the bar while his gaze roved over my face. "I definitely know you from somewhere. And I think you know where. Care to enlighten me?"
The word "no" hovered on my tongue. But why the hell shouldn't I? At least it would get him to back off. I didn't need to make a big thing out of it. Or even let on how much I'd been hurt by his past actions. All I needed to do was state the facts. "Just over three years ago, I came home to find you in bed with my boyfriend. His name was Stephen, in case it happens to you a lot and you can't remember which one it was. So that's probably why I seem familiar. Ring any bells?"
At least I'd managed to wipe the smile off his face. In fact, he appeared ever so slightly stunned as he digested the information I'd just imparted. Finally, he gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, I remember you now. I guess that explains a lot about the way you've been with me. Listen..." He reached out, but I stepped back before his fingers could make contact. I didn't need him touching me in case the part of my brain that struggled to remember the past decided to take over. "...he told me he was single. I had no idea he wasn't. If I'd known, there's no way I'd ever have gone home with him. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But..." The smile was back. "...three years is a long time. Can't we put it behind us and move on? We could discuss it over a good steak? My treat, seeing as I need to make amends."
Unbelievable. I'd finally gotten my apology and he'd almost looked guilty. Except, it had only lasted about three seconds before he'd shrugged it off like it was nothing. And as for his claim that he'd thought Stephen was single, I didn't buy it. It should have been obvious that two people lived in Stephen's and my apartment. Who did he think he'd lived with—his mother? I shook my head slowly, struggling to keep my temper under control at his easy dismissal. "No. Excuse me for not wanting to date the person who ruined my relationship, but there it is. Now, can I have the beers?" I refused to say please.
He passed over the bottles without saying anything else and I paid just as silently, half-expecting him to ask for the money for the drinks he'd bought earlier, but he didn't.
Dom seemed engrossed in something on his phone screen as I sat myself back down. I couldn't stop myself from letting off a bit of steam. “He’s a complete dick. Like I’d ever go on a date with him. If we have any more drinks, you’re getting them. I’m not going anywhere near him for the rest of the night.”
He lifted his head, staring blankly at me for a moment. “Do you know him? I don’t see why going on a date with a cute barman would be such a problem.”
It was tempting to tell him the truth. But Dom had enough on his plate without me adding to it. I was meant to be providing moral support for him, not the other way around. “I told you. He’s a dick! Thinks everyone in the entire world finds him irresistible. Anyway—” I clinked my bottle against his. “Cheers. Now let’s get back to discussing the important matter at hand. So you had sex. I assume it must have been pretty damn awful? You know, straight guy who didn’t know what he was doing. It was embarrassing and awkward, right?”
Dom sighed. “It should have been, but it wasn’t. It was”—he paused—"pretty fantastic, actually.”
“And how did you leave things last night?”
“Last night?”
“When he left.”
His face told me everything I needed to know so I answered my own question. "He didn't leave." Dom was just one surprise after another tonight. "You never let anyone stay over. I always wind you up about how you’re never going to manage to have a long-term boyfriend if he’s not even allowed to stay under the same roof. Yet, you let Mr. Straight Guy, the guy you claim not to like, stay over.”
Dominic was already shaking his head before I'd finished speaking. “It wasn’t like that. I tried to get him to leave, but he wasn’t exactly cooperating. Tristan can be... difficult.”
His excuses were starting to lack conviction. I owed it to him not to pull any punches in my assessment of the situation. Besides, I'd
just spent time dealing with one person who didn't care about wrecking relationships, I didn't need another, friend or no friend. “So he stayed the whole night. And what do you think he told his fiancée about his whereabouts?”
Dominic reared back as if I'd punched him in the face. “I wouldn’t have slept with someone who’s getting married in a few months! He’s not engaged anymore. He broke it off. Or she broke it off. I’m not sure.”
I kept my eyes fixed on his face, trying to communicate the gravity of the situation through my facial expression. "Says who?"
He looked uncomfortable. “Well, he said—”
“And you believe him?”
“What?”
I suddenly felt sorry for him. He needed to hear it though, and who else, apart from me, was going to be straight with him. Especially when it was doubtful he'd even admitted it to anyone else. “You know how gossip spreads around the building. I haven’t heard any mention of his engagement ending. His fiancée is some big-shot model, right? So you’d think it would be splashed all over the newspapers.”
Dom didn't appear too happy at my assessment of the situation. “Oh, come on. You really think he’d lie about something like that?”
I didn't know Tristan that well. Working in the mailroom didn't involve a lot of contact with the CEO of the company. I'd barely said two words to him beyond a good morning whenever our paths crossed. He had a reputation for being a nice guy. But nice guys could still do shitty things sometimes. “I don’t know, Dom. Probably not. I just think you should be questioning it or something, rather than taking everything at face value. You know, Google it. Turn your bullshit filter back on. You seem to have a strange blind spot when it comes to Tristan.” My neck started to prickle, a sixth sense warning me that I was being watched again. I kept my eyes fixed on Dom, refusing to look anywhere else but at him. Maybe delayed guilt had set in and Indy was trying to work out how to apologize properly.
Dom's face grew shadowed. He looked pensive for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. Sure. I’ll do that.”
