“Did he look disgusted?” Nicola says, already sympathetic.
“No,” I tell her. “But thanks for thinking he might have. He just looked…I don’t know. I can’t read him at all. It’s like he didn’t even hear me.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” she says.
“He heard me,” I say, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms. “He’s just not interested.”
“Well, you can’t be everyone’s type,” she tells me, taking one of Ava’s crayons and coloring a square before Ava swats her away.
“I refuse to believe that.”
She sighs and looks up at me. “I have to say though, I didn’t think he would give you this much.” She nods at the article on the table I printed out from my work computer. “I mean, whenever I’ve spoken to him, he’s only responded in monosyllabic caveman grunts.”
She’s not exactly wrong. Half of his responses to me are in the form of grunts and other manly noises, but I feel more adept at distinguishing those noises. “Getting him to talk is kind of like pulling teeth. The whole time I was asking him questions, I was terrified I was going to say something wrong and set him off like a bomb again.”
“I wonder what his deal is,” Nicola muses.
“Yes!” I exclaim, slamming my palms on the table. Ava and Nicola both jump. “What is his deal? Can you find out for me?”
Nicola’s face scrunches up. “I told you, the guy barely talks to me.”
“Yes, but Bram would know.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Bram says he barely talks to him either, and when he does, you can be sure it’s nothing personal.”
“I need to talk to Bram,” I say, nodding to myself.
“Well, come to the Lion tonight,” she says. “I’m working a short shift so Bram is meeting me there. I’m sure he’d like to read the article, too.” She looks at her phone to check the time. “Speaking of, I better drop Ava off at my mom’s and get ready.”
I hug the both of them goodbye, then order decaf. I don’t need the caffeine because I already feel like I’m flying. This article really has me all jazzed about life, which is kind of a weird thing in itself. And it’s scary. Because what if this doesn’t work out the way I want it to? What if Joe just takes the article, prints it, and that’s it? I go back to my regular job, being bored out of my mind. What if I work forever in advertising, doing the same old shit every single day? I don’t know if I can do it, now that I know something better is out there, something that makes me feel…alive. It would kind of be akin to living your life in darkness and someone giving you the sun. Okay, scratch that—that’s way too schmaltzy and dramatic. But still…it would suck balls. And not the good kind.
Naturally my thoughts drift to Lachlan after that. I really need to get that man out of my head, but every time I picture his face, that body, that gravelly voice that holds a million secrets, I get this rush inside me, like birds being let loose from a cage. That, combined with the article, and I feel like I’m starting to go a bit insane. Perhaps I just need to put my head down and conjure up that black shriveled heart of mine that doesn’t get too excited about anything.
But curiosity killed the Kayla, and later that evening I find myself at the Lion.
The moment I walk in, I’m accosted by drunken hollers and James’s angry music—Faith No More, again. It’s Saturday night and everyone in the city seems to be pre-drinking here before they hit the clubs. I quickly scan the bar, looking for Bram, but I keep making eye contact with a few guys that I know I shouldn’t. I have to admit, it would be nice to just find a cute one and have a random hookup. Maybe it’s the lack of sex that’s turning me into a crazy person. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it is. So much sexual frustration and no place for it to go.
But to be honest, even though getting laid would help in the short term, it wouldn’t do shit in the long term. I’d just feel empty afterward, because when it comes down to it, a random hookup with a random guy isn’t what I want at all. I know exactly what I want, and I can’t have it.
I spot Nicola at the bar, slinging drinks. She’s slammed, but as I come over, she catches my eye and gestures to the booths by the washroom. There’s a hint of warning in her eyes, which makes me pause, but she’s in no position to explain. People are practically throwing money at her. James, at the other end of the bar, gives me a nod but he’s equally busy.
I make my way through the crowd to the other side of the bar and finally see Bram sitting in the booth, nursing a few fingers of Scotch.
Sitting across from him is Lachlan, his big hand curled around what looks like a glass of water.
I hate to use the term clench, but that’s exactly what my body does when I see him. I clench, my thighs squeezing together, as if I can already imagine his cock inside me.
Damnit, I need help.
For a moment I stand there, wondering if maybe I should just turn around and leave. I’m only here because I want to talk to Bram about Lachlan, not actually see Lachlan, and the fact that he’s here makes me both turned on and absolutely terrified.
But then Lachlan looks up beneath his baseball cap and sees me. He doesn’t smile. That would be asking too much. But he stops frowning for a moment as he eyes me up and down, so I’ll take what I can get.
I swallow the lump in my throat, throw my shoulders back, and walk over to them, my eyes going from Lachlan to Bram and back to Lachlan again.
“Hey,” I say to them, standing at the end of the table.
“There’s the woman of the hour,” Bram says, but to my surprise it’s Lachlan who moves over in the booth to make room for me.
I give Lachlan a grateful smile and sit down next to him. Tonight I’m wearing a black fringe skirt with bare legs and when he glances down at them briefly, his own thighs so close to mine, I hope he likes what he sees.
If he does, though, he doesn’t give any indication. He doesn’t say anything at all, just takes a sip of his water. I watch his throat as he swallows until I can tell that Bram is staring at me.
I tear my eyes away to glare at Bram, but he’s already shaking his head like I’m being ridiculous. I ignore him and pull the article out of my purse, unfolding it and holding it out.
“Did you guys want to read the article?” I ask, and Bram immediately snatches it from my hands.
I glance at Lachlan. “It’s all about you. You really should read it first.”
He gives me a fleeting smile and scratches at his beard. “I’ll read it when it goes to print. Seems more special that way.”
Bram looks over the paper at Lachlan for a second, frowns, then goes back to reading. I drum my fingers anxiously along the edge of the table, waiting for his final verdict.
“Well, well, well,” Bram finally says. He hands it back to me and gives me a charming grin. “I’m impressed.”
“Really?”
“Aye. Reads like the real thing. Thank you,” he adds emphatically. “I think that this could really help.”
“I fucking hope so,” I tell him. “I wrote the shit out of this thing.”
“That you did. And you made Mr. Rugby here sound like an angel.” Bram picks up his drink and raises it to Lachlan in a mock toast.
Lachlan grunts in return before excusing himself. I quickly hop out of the booth, and as he gets out, his arm brushes against mine. I nearly burst from the sensation, that quick whisper of hot skin that sends my whole body ablaze.
He saunters off toward the bathroom and I watch that ass in those jeans for as long as I can. It’s becoming a bit of a habit. The best habit.
“Look at you,” Bram says teasingly.