Ty: You’re fucking dramatic, dude. It wasn’t that bad. And they weren’t dresses, they were togas because it was a theme party.
Flynn: You know, that distinction doesn’t make it sound better.
Ty: The chick he was dating at the time was into all the vegan shit, and the togas made it easier to ensure no one was wearing, like, fur or something.
Remy: How’s that shovel feeling in your hands, bud? Is it heavy? Do you want to stop digging for a while?
Flynn: Haha
Remy: You need to take a page from Flynn’s book and start hanging out with his MC buddies.
Ty: Stop acting like Flynn is hanging out with badass biker dudes on the regular. He spends his time with us, not the Sons of Anarchy.
I can’t stop myself from jumping on the Ty-razzing bandwagon. When you’re the youngest brother out of four, you learn quickly to take every opportunity to join in when you’re not the butt of the joke.
Jude: $100 bucks says Flynn’s MC could take on Ty’s artsy, vegan friends.
Ty: Kip isn’t an artsy vegan, you dick.
Remy: What’s Kip do for a living again, Ty?
I grin, knowing full well where this is headed.
Ty: Shut the fuck up.
A quiet chuckle slides from my lungs, and I fire off another message.
Me: Pretty sure what Ty means by “Shut the fuck up” is that Kip runs an art gallery in Bushwick. Thereby, making ole Kip very much artsy. And, well, the vegan thing we’ve already established.
Ty: Sometimes, I really hate you guys.
Remy: Aw, you don’t hate us, Ty. You love us. And you know what? We accept you for your artsy, vegan lifestyle.
Flynn: 100% acceptance, my man. Tomorrow you could tell me you’re a fruitarian who prefers wearing togas and Crocs, and you know what? You’ll have my full support, bud.
My phone buzzes in my hand with another message, most likely from Ty calling us assholes, but my attention is completely pulled away when I glance toward the staircase again and spot a fucking vision of beauty. She’s in another dress, but it’s not green like last time. It’s this mesmerizing shade of gold that shimmers and shines beneath the soft lights as she gracefully moves down the stairs.
She followed my instructions.
A rush of exhilaration dumps into my veins.
Fuck yes. This is going to be a fantastic night.
I put my cell in my pocket, slide off my barstool, and stand to my feet.
Sophie is still looking around the room, trying to scout out a familiar face, and I’m looking at her. Her dark hair falls in waves down her shoulders, and her tight little body looks like a fucking dream in her shimmery dress and rose-gold stilettos.
Damn. This woman never disappoints.
Honestly, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her if I tried.
In three long strides, I cut the distance between us, and that’s when she spots me. Her stunning green eyes flash with recognition, and one corner of my mouth quirks up into a grin.
“You made it,” I say, coming to a stop right in front of her at the bottom of the staircase.
“I did.”
“Color me pleasantly surprised.”
She tilts her head to the side, and her long dark hair falls across one shoulder. “You thought I was going to stand you up?”
“I wasn’t sure.” I hold out a hand toward her, and when Sophie places her hand in mine, the warmth of her small fingers resonates against my skin. With a gentle tug, I pull her toward me, wrap one arm around her waist, and press a kiss to the spot just below her ear. “But I’m real fucking glad you came.”
She leans back and meets my eyes, and I don’t miss the way her long dark lashes fan across her cheeks with each blink.
“How about a drink?”
“Okay.” She licks her lips, and it takes everything inside me not to drag her out of this bar and back to her place.
But instead, I remind myself of the plan. A genius fucking plan that revolves around teasing and anticipation that leads to hot, illicit sex where I get to enjoy watching the enthralling view that is Sophie coming on my cock again.
With a gentle hand to her lower back, I lead her toward the bar and help her onto one of the stools before sitting down beside her.
“What do you want to drink tonight?”
She opens her mouth to answer but wavers for a moment before finally saying, “Surprise me.”
I grin. Oh yes, sweet Sophie, I can promise you that tonight will be full of surprises.
A few minutes later, the bartender slides two drinks across the bar. A fresh scotch on the rocks for me and a drink that serves an exact purpose for Sophie.
“An old-fashioned?” she questions as she stares down at the glass of amber liquid.
“For memories,” I tell her and take a sip from my rocks glass. “A reminder of the Raines Law Room.”