Liam Davis & The Raven (Love Inscribed 1)

Was this the type of thing Jack and Jill found fun? No wonder my columns were a disappointment if this was the type of cut-rate angle readers sought.

Flyers were pressed against my chest and I clutched the pile on reflex.

“Take one, pass it on,” someone said. I awkwardly shifted them to Mr. Buzz-Cut next to me and resumed note taking.

Hannah pushed her way back through the thickening crowds, her hair loose, spilling over her shoulders and snagging on horny guys as she squeezed free.

She handed me a large, plastic shot glass of red Jell-O. “I tried them all. This is the best flavor.”

Tried them all? I glanced at her semi-diluted pupils, jamming my notebook and pen under my arm while I took the shot glass and sniffed. “How many flavors were there?”

“Five.”

The raspberry shot burned my throat. “Five?” I spluttered. “Why would you do that?”

“Look, I know this isn’t going to work out between us, so I just want to be drunk when I hear you say it.”

Her cheeks flushed and she downed the other shot, a squirt of liquid dribbling down her chin and plopping onto her turquoise shirt. Hurriedly, she wiped her mouth clean. “Guess I’m drunk enough to hear it now. Go.”

Cheers roared around us, and in a quick glance through the narrow gaps between heads, I caught sight of a tangled trio in the pool. Some intoxicated guy had thrown himself into the mix.

I set my empty shot glass down on a nearby windowsill, rubbed my brow, and aligned my glasses proper. “I was curious if it would work out with us, but you’re right. I’m not romantically inclined toward you.”

“Right,” she said, setting her glass down too. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“You’re still the girl I want to share my mints with at Scribe, though. And I hope—” My voice faltered and a nervous shiver had me shifting my weight. “I mean, when we’re not too busy, I’d like to go to the movies with you again. Or eat lunch, or—” I laughed at myself for the sudden fear that gripped my stomach. What if she said no? “I’d like to replace my office friends with real ones.”

The host yelled, “Numbers fifty-eight and sixty! You’re up.”

Hannah glanced at the back of her hand as she wiped her palms over the thighs of her jeans. “Fifty-eight. That’s me.”

She veered toward the center of the room, threading though the sweaty, anticipatory crowd.

I snagged her sleeve, and she looked at me over her shoulder. “Don’t do it.”

She shrugged. “I’ve never done anything just for the heck of it, Liam. I want to have a life. At least, I want to try new things before I dismiss them.”

I frowned. There was certain logic to that.

“Besides,” she said, backing toward the kiddie pool, “you can use me as your angle. You could call it Letting Loose after Lectures.”

She pulled off the small beaded bag she wore and stripped to her undershirt. “That’s all you’re getting from me, guys,” she said, kicking off her shoes and chucking them into a pile at the side of the Jell-O pool.

I opened my notebook again and scribbled some more, although this time my pen didn’t move as swiftly and I kept shifting positions, searching for something comfortable.

Hannah was pitted against a bear of a guy who’d been pushed into the pool by his chuckling friends. With a thick crop of brown hair and a light beard, he rested his hands on his hips and blinked thick lashes toward his opponent. He threw his friends a hard look and leaned his hulking frame forward.

“Sorry about this,” he said warmly. Then to Trainers Guy, “This is hardly a fair fight.”

“Luck of the draw,” came the shrugged answer.

“But she’s half my size.”

Not quite true. She was two heads shorter than he was, but that put her in the range of normal and him in the league of giants.

Hannah straightened and snapped her gaze to his. “That’s presumptuous.”

He quirked a brow at her. “What’s presumptuous?”

In answer, Hannah deftly grabbed the loops at the waist of his jeans and hauled him forward.

He budged a fraction in the thick Jell-O, while Hannah slid violently forward. A muffled groan escaped her from where she had face-planted into his chest. “So it’s all muscle, then.”

Giant Guy grinned, his cheeks dimpling deeply. “And I don’t want to use it against you. So how about falling to the pit for three seconds, eh?”

Hannah scowled and shook her head. Her gaze sought mine and she said, “I want you recording this, Liam. Every detail. Every plea to let him go.”

Amongst the murmuring chatter of the crowd, I re-gripped my pen.

Giant Guy snorted. “You’re funny.”

“Let’s see who ends up laughing,” Hannah said, and sank her fingers into his armpits and wriggled.

“Ga-ha, stop it!” Giant Guy rolled his arms back, the swing of his arms sending him off balance and launching a half-stride slip.