“Why don’t you go to Hawaii?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to me to gauge my response.
“You know why.”
“I think it might be good for you.”
“I’m fine, Elijah,” I say with an exasperated breath.
“Okay,” he relents. “Help me take the food to the table.”
Right before we sit down, the doorbell sounds off, and Sugarfoot comes barreling down the stairs, his golden, fluffy tail wagging excitedly. He’s the only dog I know that doesn’t bark when he hears a doorbell.
“That’s Zoe. I’ll get it,” Cill says, closing his notebook.
Elijah and I start piling the food onto our plates. “So, Sugarfoot is yours now, huh?”
He tenses ever so briefly before continuing to scoop the vegetables onto his plate. “I like him,” he says with a shrug. “He makes this big house not seem so…” he trails off and never finishes, but I think he was going to say lonely. And I can understand what he means.
Sugarfoot belonged to his ex, but apparently, Jenn didn’t want him anymore either.
“Hey guys,” Zoe greets, taking off her light jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the dining room chairs. Sugarfoot follows her every step, and she gives him a couple scratches behind the ears before excusing herself to wash her hands.
The table can seat eight people, but without Merrick and his friends, and without Jenn, it seems pretty empty these days.
“Sorry I’m late,” Zoe says, kissing Cill on the cheek before taking her seat next to him. “Work. You know how that goes.”
“It’s okay,” Elijah answers. “Glad you could make it.”
Dinner is delicious—steak, baked potatoes, and vegetables. The conversation flows easily, and we all laugh quite a bit, taking turns giving each other shit over one thing or another. Zoe pipes in every once in a while, but she’s always been more on the quiet side, and she’s never really made it a point to fit in with us. I get it, we’re a bunch of guys, but she seems to be coming over more for Cill’s sake, and not because she really wants to get to know us.
At the end of the night, Elijah refuses help to clean up, and ushers us out the front door. As I’m climbing into my car, I feel bad about leaving Elijah in that house. We all live on our own now, but he’s the only who has to live with the ghosts of Mom and Dad around him.
“What a day. I fucking hate Wednesdays,” Midge yells into the sky
“And that’s why on Wednesdays we get drinks,” I say, nudging her arm.
“I’m still not sure why FuckFace thinks he can come into my office every Wednesday to make sure I’m putting on my customer service face when dealing with people. He acts like I don’t know how to do my job just because I have a foul mouth. I know how to be professional. Fucking Christ!”
I laugh and link my arm with hers. “I’ll buy your first drink.”
FuckFace is John, another loan officer in the bank. He’s an older, uppity asshole who pretty much hates Midge. He checks in with her weekly just to piss her off, I think.
We walk into King’s Tavern around six-fifteen and sidle up to our usual seats at the bar. Two guys sit at the opposite end, and about a dozen people are sprinkled throughout the rest of the place.
Even if there were fifty alternative spots to drink at in this town, I’d still choose this one, and it has nothing to do with who owns and bartends at it. Well, mostly. King’s Tavern isn’t pretentious, but it’s not a piece of shit either. It always has dim lighting, so you can pretend it’s midnight even if it’s one in the afternoon. The bar, stools, and tables are made of a beautiful cherry wood, which complement the red brick walls. Lights are strung up above the bar, and there’s a couple TVs on either end of the room.
“Hey, my two favorite girls,” Royce greets, walking toward us with a smile on his face. “Midge?”
“Something strong,” she pleads, running her fingers through her black hair. “Just a splash of a mixer.”
“Okay, and Sunshine.” He points at me. “Black Label on the rocks.”
“Yep,” I answer with a grin. “Same as usual.”
“Bad day?” he questions, glancing at Midge as he begins our drinks.
“Ugh,” she groans, crossing her arms on the bar and laying her head down.
“My day was fine,” I reply with a shrug. “But I won’t let her drink alone.”
Royce smiles. “I’m sure it’s because you’re a good friend and not because you really enjoy this liquor.”
“Exactly.”
He pushes my drink toward me and focuses on Midge’s.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I answer, twisting it around even though he can’t see. “I’m able to wear my heels, so all is good.”
“What happened to your ankle?” Midge asks, her head popping up.
“Oh, a rabid dog ran up on her and bit her,” Royce lies.
“What?” Midge exclaims, her eyes growing twice their normal size. “Oh my God.”
I make a face at Royce who can’t contain his laughter. “That’s not what happened.”
Midge’s body relaxes and then she gives Royce the finger. “What actually happened?”
I was jogging, and this kid was playing on the sidewalk with his cars, and right as I was about to run past him, he pushed one in front of me and I stepped on it and rolled my ankle a little bit. Nothing too bad, didn’t even give me a limp.”
“The dog story was more exciting.”
“See, I was just trying to help,” Royce says with a laugh.
“Whatever,” I reply, playfully rolling my eyes.
“You knew?” she asks Royce, before looking at me. “How did he know? How did you know?” she questions, looking at him again.
“We were jogging together,” he says, pushing her drink toward her.
“Oh really?” She slowly turns in my direction with eyebrows raised.
“Again, no. He’s a liar. I was jogging, and he ended up following me like a stalker.”
“Only after I saved her life. She was this close to slamming her head into the concrete,” he says, bringing his thumb and forefinger together.
“It was your fault that I almost fell!”
“You backed your ass into me.”
“I did not! I was stretching.”
Midge’s brows furrow. “I’m confused.”
I sigh. “I was stretching while waiting for a light. He came out of the building and ran into me as I was bent over and I almost fell on my head. Then, when I thought I left him behind, he followed me down the street and witnessed me trip over the car. That’s it.”
“I prefer the story of you guys jogging together and then being attacked by a dog, if I’m being honest.”
Me and Royce make eye contact and start laughing, and then he walks away to help someone else.
“You are so smitten,” she tells me, shaking her head.
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not.”
“I said okay.”
“But you’re saying it like you don’t believe me.”
“Well, that’s because I don’t.”
I growl at her. “Look, we’re just being friends. Buuuut, I do need to tell you something.”
She watches me, waiting for some juicy gossip. “What?” she whispers. “Did y’all do something?”
“No!” I screech, then when Royce looks over at me, I lower my voice. “Of course not.”
“Well, what? This better be interesting. I’m talkin’ dog attacking you kind of interesting, not tripping over toys interesting.”
“Oh shush.”
I lean in and quietly explain to her why Royce calls me Sunshine.
“Oh my God,” she whispers excitedly. “He’s like…in love with you.”
“No, he’s not,” I say, smacking her arm. “But it definitely took me by surprise.”
“Wow.”
“I know, but he also made it known he wanted to be fr
iends, so we exchanged a couple bits of information about each other, and that’s what we’re gonna do. Be friends.”
“Pft. Okay,” Midge states, taking a drink.
“For real.”
“Okay.”
“Enough with the okays.”
“Hey, that’s cool. I like Royce. I’m his friend, too, but you don’t look at me the way you look at him. And he doesn’t look at me the way he looks at you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re crazy about Ro—”
Royce pops back over
“—olos,” she finishes and shoots me a grin. Yeah, I saw what she did there, changing Royce to Rolos. I just hope he didn’t catch on.
“You’re crazy about Rolos?” Royce asks me, making a face. “But they’re so chewy.”
“Yeah, but she likes chewy,” Midge answers, smirking at me. “She likes it more than her other favorite candy…Skittles. You see, Skittles are good. They’re sweet, but a little boring. And they always leave her a little unsatisfied. She’s left wanting more. You know? But Rolos, they have that extra umph.”
Royce looks between us, his brows pinched together. “I’m confused. Skittles and Rolos are completely different. That’s two different playing fields right there.”
“Exactly,” she says with a huge smile.
I roll my eyes and drop my head onto my folded arms.
“Shots, muthafuckas!” Midge yells, her drunken state obvious to everyone around her. Well, maybe it’s not obvious to the other drunk ones, who believe standing on a chair and screaming demands to the whole bar is normal.
“All right, all right. Sit down. I don’t need you getting hurt and trying to sue me.”
“Royce,” she says, dragging the last part of my name out for several seconds. “I’d never sue you. Where else would I go to get my drink on?”
I shake my head at her and line up several shot glasses along the bar. I’ve already coated the rims in salt, so I pull out the bottle of Patron and fill them all up. I put out a bowl of lime wedges, and Midge starts handing everything out. On Wednesday the girls typically limit themselves to two drinks, but on Saturdays Midge is all about taking shots.
Midge invited two other people from the bank to have drinks tonight—a couple of guys named Daniel and Henry. Daniel brought his boyfriend, Jon, and Henry seems to be paying too much attention to London for my liking.
“Who’s this one for?” I ask, pointing at one leftover shot glass on the bar.
“That’s for you,” Midge chirps. “You have to take one with us.” When I give her a look, she finishes with a whiny, “Come on!”
“Fine.”
We all put our glasses together and wait for someone to make a toast. “What should we toast to?” Midge asks London.
London’s not as drunk as Midge, but she’s definitely feeling the effects. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes aren’t as wide as usual. Her brows come together as she thinks, and her painted pink fingernail taps her pouty lips.
“To friends, old and new.”
Midge shrugs her shoulders, happy with the toast, and we all toss our heads back and pour the strong liquid down our throats.
“Good toast, Lolo,” Henry says, coming up and wrapping his hairy arm around her shoulders.
“It wasn’t anything special. I suck at toasts,” she replies. Her uncomfortableness is obvious in the way she tenses up and tries to move away from him. Henry doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, you don’t suck,” he says with a chuckle, leaning in even closer.
I clench my fist tight around the rag in my hand and wipe down the counter with an aggressiveness that isn’t necessary. I don’t take my eyes off of Henry and his meaty hands. London continues to try to be nice, but her laughter is nervous and not at all genuine.
Midge walked several feet away with Jon and Daniel to go talk to another group of people at a table.
I could confront this Henry guy and possibly make a scene, making London feel even more uncomfortable with all the attention on her, and perhaps anger the obviously drunk Henry, which could lead to other problems. Or I could deal with this the only other way I can think of.
“Hey London?”
She looks up at me. “Yeah?”
“Can you come with me for a sec? I need your opinion on something.”
London’s face contorts briefly, showcasing her confusion, but when Henry tightens his grip on her shoulder, I raise my brows just slightly, and she seems to see what I’m doing.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
She slips out of Henry’s grip, and the sourpuss look on his face doesn’t go unnoticed, but I don’t care.
Once I’m out from behind the bar, London rounds the corner, and we silently walk to the corner where the stairway hides behind a door.
“Follow me,” I tell her, slipping my key in the lock.
Once inside the stairwell, I turn on the light and walk up a few steps.
“Thanks,” she says right away, leaning against the wall. “He can be a little much.”
“Is he always like that?”
She shakes her head. Her blond hair is half pulled up, and the rest falls in loose curls down to the middle of her back. “He just split from his wife, so I think he’s trying to find a rebound. I don’t know.”
“If he gives you a hard time, let me know. He shouldn’t be touching you like that.”
She gives me a small grin. “I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if he does anything else tonight.”
“Not just tonight, Sunshine. Anytime. I don’t mind letting that bastard know to leave you alone.”
She looks up at me with something akin to adoration in her eyes. I’m well aware I’m not her boyfriend and therefore don’t have the right to the role of protector, but fucking Hunter is never around, and I don’t know what he’s willing to do for her. I only recognize what I’m prepared to do, and that’s just about everything.
“Sorry, I know it’s not my place,” I say. “Want to call Hunter over? Maybe Henry will leave you alone if your boyfriend is here.”
It hurts every part of my being to say those words, but whatever will keep Henry away, I’m willing to let happen. It’ll suck to see her with Hunter, but at least I’ll know that any touching that happens will be consensual. And he is her boyfriend after all, so he should be the one beating the guys away.
“It’s fine,” she states, her eyes flickering down at her black boots. “I mean, technically this is your place, and you have to look out for your customers, right?” She gives me a tentative smile.
“You’re more than a customer,” I say, shocking myself at the admission. “You’re my friend, right?” I amend.
Her widened eyes shrink down, and she giggles. “Yeah, that’s right. Also, maybe my stalker.”
“Well, you know, the stalker that knows you is always better than the one that doesn’t.”
She scrunches her nose up. “Is that a saying?”
“No, I just made it up,” I reply with a laugh.
“Oh, God. Cause that’s bad.”
“So, no to Hunter?” I ask, realizing she didn’t acknowledge that part.
Another shake of her head. “No, it’s okay. This isn’t really his scene. He’s probably already in bed, anyway,” she says, checking her watch.
“Well, okay. I guess we should get back out there before Midge tears the place apart searching for you.”
I lock the door behind us when we leave the stairwell, and she goes back to her seat while I get back behind the bar. Chad and Luna are busy taking care of the customers, and everything is still under control.
Everything except Midge, who is now lying across the bar and letting someone lick salt from her stomach. By the time I get over there, the guy has already taken the lime wedge from her mouth.
“Midge, what’re you doing on my bar?” I ask, leaning over her.
She gazes up at me with glassy eyes and brings her finger to touch th
e tip of my nose. “Boop. What does it look like? Body shots! I told you this was gonna happen.”
Midge pulls her shirt down and slides off the bar and back onto a stool.
Jon turns to Daniel and says, “Us next, baby. Lick the salt off my neck.”
“See? People can do it without lying across the bar.”
“But being on the bar is so much more fun! London. You’re up!”
“What? No. Nope. I said I’d take tequila shots, and I have. I didn’t agree to body shots.”
“Stop being a lame ass. Royce, would you tell her?”
London squints her eyes at me, daring me to take Midge’s side. “Well, London doesn’t have to have anyone lick salt off her if she doesn’t want to,” I say.
Midge scoffs and London gives her a smug smile.
“But, I’m willing to offer up my body.”
London’s jaw drops and Midge lets out a whooping sound. “Get the salt!”
I meet London’s gaze, and lift a brow, challenging her. “You can put it on the back of my hand. It’s not a big deal.”
“No, we’re putting it on your neck,” Midge says. “Come over here and lick his neck!” she demands, looking at London and pointing at me.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Do it!” Midge yells.
I smirk at her, and with a huff she slowly gets up from her seat. She takes a few steps closer to where I’m standing, and leans over the bar, gesturing with her finger for me to come closer.
My heartrate picks up speed as I realize London’s tongue is going to touch my skin. She keeps eye contact with me as she runs her tongue over her lip and then she leans into my neck.
Her breath whispers over my skin and my imagination runs wild thinking of those soft, pouty lips against my heated flesh. My cock stirs behind my zipper, and then I hear her husky voice whisper, “You wish.”
I back up and do what he always does to me. Smirk. I arch an eyebrow and grab my shot of tequila and swallow it down. Royce is frozen in place, his eyes never leaving my face as I slide the lime wedge between my lips and suck on it. I force myself to look away. The way his eyes linger on my mouth makes my body react in a way it shouldn’t.
On the Rocks (Kingston Brothers Book 1) Page 4
