It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

“Hey, hang on.”

He didn’t. If it were possible, he picked up the pace.

“Julian. Please. Stop.”

Julian whirled around on him and unexpectedly stepped in his path at the same time, causing him to reach for Julian, so he didn’t bowl him over.

“Do you think you’re the first person to be infatuated with me?”

The words lost some of their bite as Julian’s arms flung out. Beckett busted a move, his arms tightened around Julian’s waist, bringing the smaller man flush against his body, steadying himself to keep them both on their feet.

“Listen to me, Julian. They set me up yesterday. Walker asked me to dinner and Layne was there. You have to know they don’t take no for an answer. Hell, they never shut up. It’s hard to say anything.”

Julian pushed out of Beckett’s arms, backing several feet away from him. “I’m so fucking sick of this bullshit.” Julian’s fist shot out, punching at the air before he searched the area and started back toward the restaurant. Right as Beckett started to follow, Julian spun around, pointing a finger at him in warning to stay where he stood.

His heart broke, begging him to make this right. Julian’s anger crackled in the air around them, his icy glare piercing Beckett’s heart as if cupid had shot a wayward arrow.

“St. Clair, this isn’t going to happen between us. You need to understand that I’m not someone you want.” Julian gave a dramatic tilt of his head as if what he said were more than obvious. “You have no idea how I’m so not for you.”

Beckett’s heart refused to accept those words. He fought the urge to caveman out on Julian by tossing him over his shoulder and taking him far, far away from this crazy shit show they’d somehow fallen into. Beckett forced himself to concentrate on the steady rise and fall of his chest to fight the building panic.

“We’re not talking about that right now.” Beckett cast his eyes down, trying to think of anything to diffuse this situation. He’d never meant for any of this to happen. Honesty was always the best answer. Inspiration struck, and he lifted his gaze to Julian who looked fierce as hell, his blue-green eyes blazing with indignation. “I know something happened to you. I figure it was something life-altering considering the way those two men want to protect you. Put their concern aside.” Beckett lifted a hand, motioning toward Escape where they’d left Thane and Arik. “Whatever happened, you haven’t gotten past it, and people are worried for you. I get where their heart is, and I get your frustration. Put that aside. Self-defense training can help build confidence.”

Julian’s hands flew in the air as if that was the last thing he wanted to hear from Beckett. “I don’t appreciate you talking behind my back.”

“I didn’t. I drank a few beers. They did all the talking.” Beckett took several timid steps forward while Julian gave a harsh blast of a laugh before closing his eyes and lifting his face toward the sky. The sun cast Julian in a warm glow, making him even more mesmerizing.

Beckett waited until Julian released his breath in what seemed like a calming technique. Julian barely spared a glance Beckett’s way before making a beeline back to the club.

“Don’t follow me.” The words were said with command and finality, making Beckett stay where he stood. Whatever had happened to Julian was bad—worse than he had wanted to admit.

Julian pushed through the side door of the club. The contrast between the bright sun and the natural darkness of the club made it hard to see. Somehow the lack of clarity felt comforting as Julian sent the door flying shut behind him. He bypassed the employees setting up the club for the night and made his way straight to the stairwell leading to the office above. Past sick of being treated as if he was helpless.

“Woofer is up there. I took him out about fifteen minutes ago,” Ricco called out. Julian absently lifted a hand in acknowledgment but never turned back as he took the well-worn steps up two at a time. So goddamned tired of people interfering in his life.

Julian pushed through the office door with much of the same ire as he used with the door below, and Woofer bolted toward him. He braced himself for the damn dog’s exuberant greeting.

One thing he knew with certainty, what he was doing right now wasn’t working for him. Woofer jumped up and licked across his neck. It would have been Julian’s lips had he not lifted his chin out of the way. Woofer stood on his back legs, his big paws on Julian’s chest, keeping them close together.

“Get down, boy,” Julian said, taking Woofer’s front legs and dropping them toward the floor. Julian edged around the big dog, on a mission to get to the wet bar. He poured a double shot of whiskey and swallowed it down in two large gulps.