Everything started tingling.
I told her I’d deliver the order, barely gave Doug a backward glance when I said, “Watch the grill for a minute,” and bolted for the door, despite the fact we were stacked up with tons of dinner orders and he has his own job to do.
I press through the doorway, dodge a surprised server, and head for my friends. The first thing I spot is the wheelchair, confirming my suspicions of who’s here. As I approach, I hear laughter, particularly Lyndee’s. It’s like an angel’s call, beckoning me to the Promised Land.
“I swear to God, I’ve never seen his bare ass move that quickly from a bedroom window before in my life,” Walker says, causing a ruckus from the entire group and me to stop in my tracks.
I know that story.
Bastards!
“Hey, man. Whatcha doing out here?” Jameson asks, pulling everyone’s attention my way.
“Delivering appetizers,” I reply, grinding my teeth so hard I swear I crack a molar.
I step forward and set the curds down on the table, taking in everyone’s positions. Walker is standing beside Isaac, behind where Dustin sits, and Jameson stands directly beside Lyndee. His arm dangles mere centimeters away from her arm.
I almost growl.
Her stunning brown eyes widen, and Jameson snorts a laugh, letting me know I may not have actually contained the possessive noise.
I give Lyndee a quick smile and turn to her brother. “Good to see you.”
“You too. We’re excited to be here,” Dustin replies, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“What did you order?” I ask, giving him my complete attention.
“Lyn and I both got the Panty Melter,” he states, reaching for his beer.
“Excellent choice. I’ll make sure they’re extra gooey,” I retort, turning a cocky grin Lyndee’s way.
“And Jameson ordered us these cheese curds. He said they were his favorite,” she replies innocently, taking one of the pieces of breaded cheese and popping it in her mouth.
My eyes instantly narrow and zero in on my friend. “Did he?” I comment, staring down Jameson.
He only laughs, clearly not fazed by my annoyed glare. “They are my favorite,” he declares with a shrug and a wicked grin.
“Well, as fun as this is, I’m going back over to Mal and Lizzie to finish our dinner. Lyndee, we’ll stop by on their way out and I’ll introduce you,” Walker states, turning and making his way back to where his girls are waiting.
“I’m going to check on the reservation list. Lyndee, Dustin, enjoy your meal. It’s on the house tonight,” Isaac announces.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. We’re happy to support another local business,” Lyndee insists.
“No way, not after those goodies you sent us. Tonight, it’s on the house,” he states before giving them a wave and walking off.
Jameson, the asshole he is, seems to just get comfortable. The fucker just smirks, overlaps his left foot over his right, and relaxes into his stance, arms crossed over his chest.
“Well, I should get back to the kitchen.” Before I turn, my gaze catches hers and I swear the entire room can hear the thunder of my heart trying to beat out of my chest. I’m certain Lyndee can, maybe even feel the heavy thump from three feet away. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you,” she replies quickly, offering me a small grin.
With a nod, I turn to Dustin, pat him on the shoulder, and return to my domain, my gut heavier than it was when I came out here. I push through the door and find chaos erupting around me. Doug is trying to keep up on the grill, but he just doesn’t have the expertise to systematically move that many burgers in a short amount of time.
He’s not me.
I jump right back in, barking orders and doing everything I can to get caught back up. I was only out in the dining room for five minutes, but all hell broke loose in that short amount of time. This is why I hate leaving anyone else in charge in my absence. Yes, they manage, but no one runs this kitchen like I do.
Time to put Lyndee out of my head and do my thing.
Ha! Fat chance of that, buster.
***
Once the kitchen has been completely closed down, the restaurant long empty, and the bar hopping, I finally make my way over to where the action is. The moment I saddle up to the end of the bar, Walker has a bottle in his hand and the top off. “Busy night,” I say, taking my first long pull of beer of the night.
“Yep. He draws more and more of a crowd,” my friend replies, nodding to where Jameson plays guitar on the small one-step stage in the corner of the room.
This is the time where the bar is somewhat quiet, patrons enjoying his weekend acoustic sessions. Friday and Saturday nights, our friend plays. Crazy to think it started as just a way for him to practice whatever song he was working on, but now, he’s a big part of the draw. Burgers, beer, and damn good music.
I glance around and find every seat filled, including some with familiar faces. As in, ones I’ve met up with well after the bar closed. Shit, I think there’s even a small group sitting together that all looks very familiar. When I get a few waves and red-stained grins promising dirty favors later, I look away. Any other night, I’d eagerly anticipate one of them coming over with a proposition, but tonight, well, I’m just not feeling it and kinda hoping no one approaches me.
“This is exactly why I refused to dip my quill in company ink, man.”
I look up and smack directly into Walker’s laughing gaze. “Shut the fuck up.”
That only makes him laugh even harder. He dries a few glasses and sets them on the shelf behind him. When he turns back around, he tosses the towel over his shoulder and leans in. “There comes a point in every man’s life where the endless supply of willing women gets old.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, chugging half my beer because I, in fact, know exactly what he’s talking about, or alluding to, at least. Maybe I should say who.
He’s way off base, though.
No way am I ready to commit my cock to one woman for the rest of my life.
Ain’t happening.
Just because he cut off his balls when he met Mallory and willingly handed them over to her doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same. He thinks just because he’s happy, everyone else should be too. Well, forget that. I’m more than happy living the single life, hooking up like always.
Keep telling yourself that.
Walker just grins. “Jameson and Isaac told me you knew the woman across the street from college. She’s the one who had your panties in a bunch back then, right?”
I gape at my friend. “What? That didn’t happen,” I argue, but my too-observant friend just shakes his head. The bastard makes a damn good bartender, or therapist as they’re often referred to. “You guys never even met Lyndee.”
“True, we didn’t, but we witnessed how agitated you’d get after those classes and how competitive you were with her. We may not have met her, but she made an impression on us, only because she made one on you.”
Bastard. He’s just standing there, all smug and righteous, like he knows everything about me. “Whatever,” I mumble, finishing off my beer in one more swallow.
Walker just laughs again as he reaches down and grabs a fresh bottle, pops the top, and slides it in front of me. “You want to hear what I think?”