All the Sauce (IceCats 4)

I tear my eyes from the TV to down the rest of my drink while once more looking around my surroundings.

Then I see him.

I don’t know if thinking of the Adlers willed him into existence, but Owen Adler is across the bar from me. He wears a fitted yellow tee and a red hat that is low on his forehead. He has a bit of hair growing in on his jaw, and wow, he looks so much like his dad. Those blazing blue eyes are lethal, and when they meet mine, I swear, my clothes and panties melt off.

His eyes burn into mine, and I refuse to look away. His lip turns up at the side, but neither of us waves or acknowledges the other. We just stare at each other. Like two creeps. Thankfully, our intense staring game is broken when the bartender comes over with my pickles and asks if I want another vodka. I agree, and when he moves, Owen is gone. I look to the right and don’t see him, but as I turn my head to the left, he is there. All six-plus feet of him, towering over me. He points to the stool beside me.

“Is this seat taken?”

I swallow hard. “Nope.”

He sits down, one leg coming up on the rail as he uses the other to turn himself to face the bar. He already has a bottle of water, and he leans on the bar, watching the TV. He doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either. I reach for a pickle, eating it as I watch the TV too. When he reaches over and takes one, I side-eye him. But I don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Yeah, this isn’t weird at all.

We eat in silence and watch the game. When the bartender brings my drink back, Owen asks me, “Did you order dinner?”

I nod. “I did.”

He puts in an order then, and once the bartender walks away, he looks over at me. “I ate at Amelia’s, but I’m still hungry.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I stuff my mouth with another pickle, distracting myself so I don’t stare at him. He’s so large and, ugh, yummy. I hate how attracted I am to him. I hate how worried I am about him. As much as I don’t want to, I ask, “How are you?”

He nods. “I’m all right.”

“How’s Evan?”

“He’s good. He’s starting classes at Bellevue this summer.”

“That’s awesome,” I say, happy for him.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I think it would be awesome for him to be here.”

“I know. I’m sure it’s been hard without him.”

“Yup, sucks ass.” He looks over at me. “I was at Amelia’s with all our friends, and I had to get out of there. Things are off.”

“It’ll all level out. It’s just a lot right now.”

He doesn’t seem convinced by that. “I saw your mom last week.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, at Shelli’s gender reveal. She asked about you.”

I blink. “I just got off the phone with her.”

“Good. She told me to convince you to answer the phone,” he says, and then he side-eyes me. “What’s that about? You’ve always been close to your mom, so I find it odd you aren’t talking to her.”

I didn’t realize she was telling people I wasn’t talking to her. Thanks, Mom. “Just dealing with some personal shit.”

He eyes me. “Like what? ’Cause to me, you look as if you’re doing awesome.”

“Looks are deceiving,” I throw back at him, and his lip kicks up at the side.

“Well, I told her you look great, I see you at the gym a lot, and you’re killing it. Then you go to school and work—not that I know much about that.”

I raise a brow. “You see me at the gym?”

He nods. “Yeah. I’m usually working out.”

I bring in my brows. “Wait, what? When?”

He looks at me then, full force, those blue eyes ready to take me out. “Yeah. I wore a black hoodie this morning when I was squatting.”

Son of a bitch. No way. There is never anyone there. When there is, I don’t pay them any mind, and they sure as hell don’t pay me any. This morning, though, I was watching Owen’s ass like it was a TV. I couldn’t see his face because of his hoodie and hat. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because if I did,” he says, grinning from ear to ear, “you would have done everything in your power not to look at my butt.”

Of course, I start to choke on my pickle. His laughter is taunting as I wheeze for breath, trying to get my bearings. “I was not looking at your butt,” I lie, and we both know I was.

“Okay, Paxy.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were,” he says, so confident and, damn it, adorable. “It’s totally fine. I checked out your biceps.”