Page 7 of Play the Last Card
I laugh, taking another sip. The beer in my hand is almost drained now and my head is a little fuzzier for it. Resting a hand on his shoulder, I push myself onto my toes to close some of the distance between us. What I can’t close, he does himself, dropping his head.
Another shiver runs down my spine and my grip on his shoulder tightens. As I guessed, he’s made of solid muscle.
Damn.
I need to stop reacting to him like this. I don’t even know him.
“I said, are you settling into town okay?” I repeat. I feel his nod, face so close to mine if either of us turns our heads we’ll be less than a breath apart.
His words fall over my ear, warm and deep. It causes yet another shiver.Goddammit. “It’s been fine. I’ve never really liked Boston so I guess it’ll be an adjustment.”
“If you don't like it here, why did you move?” I ask.
“Work.”
He pulls back, a lull in the music making it easier to hear as I reply, “Oh. That’s right, you said you work for the Broncos right?” I try not to miss the feel of his warm breath on my ear.
I’m given another nod.
“You do?!” Katie’s excited squeal makes me jump. Oh good, she’s back.
He keeps his face neutral but the shift in his eyes, the slight crease between his brows, hints that he doesn’t like the interruption anymore more than I do. My heart thumps harder in my chest and I will myself to relax.
“What do you do over there?” Katie cries, rocking on the balls of her feet excitedly. I cringe. Katie is a football fan.
Well, her boyfriend is a huge football fan so that makes Katie a football fan bydefault.
“Um—” Scott shifts uncomfortably.
“My boyfriend is a huge fan. He’s around here somewhere. You guys should meet,” Katie babbles, her eyes darting around the room looking for Grant.
I sigh, my eyes dropping to the floor as I try to discreetly take a deep breath. I like Grant, I really do. But I hate talking about football.
I hate watching it.
Hate anything to do with it really.
“You wanna make an escape while she's distracted?” The deep voice purrs quietly into my ear, spoken so closely that the words are just for me.
I raise my head, meeting his gaze. Still no smile. But my heart clenches at the thought of saying no and before I know what I’m doing, mysterious man Scott is following me toward the fire exit out the back.
The small table and chairs in the alley are normally for staff. Half the kitchen chefs smoke and like to come out here every thirty minutes to kick stuff around as they complain about whatever is pissing them off: the quality of the fish delivered, the long hours, Doug sending back yet another steak dinner because it isn’t cooked just how he likes, even though it probably is.
Scott sits across from me, legs outstretched, bright yellow socks peeking out from the hem of his jeans. I sit cross legged on my chair, the empty glass rolling between my hands on the table.
“She’s intense,” he comments, breaking the settled silence between us.
I huff out a laugh. “You’ve no idea.”
“I haven’t seen her before.” I feel my brows raise in surprise at his comment. He waves a hand at the back door. “Around here, I mean.”
“You only came in for the first time a few days ago.” I cock my head, studying him. I am so curious about this man. Has he come here often since we met? Does he look for me?
I kind of hope so. Even though that thought has me wishing I workedmore shifts.
“I’ve come most days since then too. I live in the apartment building next door.” He nods his head to the new sky rise built on the next block over.
“Ohhh, so you’re rich rich,” I reply, following his gaze to the high-rise building.