“How are things with the Babushka experiment?” Brek asked. “Everything you hoped?”
Given that his grandmother had totally backed off over the last twenty-four hours, there was no force—other than his desire to see Sadie—pulling them together.
Which was total crap.
He’d called. He’d gotten voicemail.
Then he decided that maybe she needed some space. So he gave her that.
“Things were going great.”
“I take it things aren’t going great now?” Brek hooked a hip on the counter-height bar top.
“What gave it away?”
“You’re here drinking bourbon, looking like someone shoved their boot on your heart.”
That was an aptly appropriate, yet sucky assertation of how things were going.
He’d reran the night before over and over in his head and, aside from the whole prostitute thing, everything had gone fine.
That was the thing with his family dinners—they were never fine. The night was so fine it creeped him right the fuck out. They’d had a perfectly normal celebration for the news of his little niece or nephew and everyone got drunk on mashed potatoes. Everyone but Heather.
And Roman got it. That feeling Sadie had had in the elevator at the hospital when she saw the picture of her nephew for the first time. Yeah, he got it.
The problem with a totally fine family evening was that it ended totally…fine. Sadie got in her car and drove away. He got in his and drove away.
The guy two barstools down lifted his tumbler. “I’ll take the crouton thing.”
“Bourbon.” Roman raised his glass—the drink of a man trying to figure out emotions and failing miserably.
“Ever wonder what the hell brought you to this point in life?” the guy asked.
All the fucking time.
He glanced at his bar mate. Stockbroker type. Suit, tie, and the look of lost love.
“You look like you’ve been spit out,” Roman said.
The guy nodded and tapped his index finger against the glass Brek had filled, a solemn expression across his face.
Brek turned his back to them, mixing a batch of drinks for one of the waitresses.
“Figured,” Roman replied.
Stockbroker Guy focused on the fluorescent Coors sign on the wall. “I found her because of a joke. I lost her because I’m an idiot.”
“Been there. Done that.” Roman scowled at the surface of his amber liquid. Not the joke thing, but the rest of it, sure.
“Where did it all go wrong?” the guy asked.
Roman couldn’t tell if the guy was asking the Coors sign or him. Didn’t matter. Roman shook his head. He knew where it all went wrong the first time—that was on him. He just couldn’t figure out what had gotten whacked this round.
The only thing he could hope for was that the future wouldn’t keep being a dick and second chances wouldn’t be optional.
“Too much time at the desk,” the guy mused. “Spent too much time paying into the future when I wasn’t taking care of the present. So the present marched right down to the courthouse and filed for a separation.”
That sucked. Wasn’t Roman’s story, but it sucked all the same. Any story that ended with two guys hanging out at a bar, wishing they were with the girl... Yeah, it sucked.
“The worst part?” The man continued musing. “I’m fighting her for the stuff and time with our kids, but what I really want is her. I met her. I fell in love with her. Now it’s all screwed up.”
Roman felt for the guy.
“What’s your story?” the guy asked.
Roman swiped at the condensation on his glass with the pad of his thumb. “I thought I wanted something else. Played the wrong cards at the wrong time.”
“Who knew love was a poker match,” he replied. “We pick a partner, play the wrong cards...”
“And then we wind up with our nuts wrung and all sorts of feelings,” Roman said.
“Feelings aren’t so bad.” Brek hitched a hip at the corner of the bar, crossing his arms.
“Says the guy who has it all,” Roman replied. The Brek he knew before didn’t talk about things like feelings. This Brek had a wife and kid. This Brek practically pissed sunshine he was so happy all the time.
“I met the right woman.” Brek shrugged.
And that girl had been good for him. Roman had seen the difference immediately. It wasn’t an in-your-face change, but it was like someone had flipped on a light. Now, Brek’s world seemed pretty fucking sunny.
“You really love her?” Roman asked Stockbroker Guy.
The guy moved his focus from the Coors sign to the mirrored wall with alcohol behind the bar. “Yes.”
Roman knew exactly how that felt. A pit of dread and doubt that made it hard to breathe.
“Maybe don’t give up,” Roman suggested.
“She ended it. Filed for divorce.” Damn, the guy looked near tears. “Said she isn’t happy anymore.”
“Any idea what would make her happy?” Roman asked.
“Right now? Dividing up the restaurants in Denver so we never have to see each other,” the guy said with a huff. “She gave me the choice between Snooze and Syrup.”
Two of Denver’s favorite breakfast spots.
“That’s not even a choice,” Brek said, his expression tighter than Roman’s grip on his glass. “Sometimes you want Snooze. Sometimes Syrup.”
“Can’t you just divide by location?” Roman asked. “You get Cherry Creek and she can have LoDo?”
“I don’t want to divide up restaurants. I want to take her to a restaurant.” The guy tried to laugh, tried to pawn it off as nothing. “Your girl ready to give up on you, too?”
“She gave up on me,” Roman said in total honesty. “I thought we’d both moved on. Then I thought we had another shot. Turns out, we don’t.”
“But you want to move on?” the guy asked.
Did he? Did he want to?
“No.” Roman shook his head.
He didn’t. Sadie was the shining star in an otherwise cloudy night sky.
The guy swirled his bourbon. “Ever wonder what you’ve got to do to change her mind?”
Every freaking day since Sadie had walked down the aisle of the church straight toward him. “I figure if I show her that I’m in it for her, maybe she’ll come around.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then I guess I’ll get a goldfish.”
“Don’t go the goldfish route, trust me,” the guy mused. “You know, I thought she’d appreciate the time I spent at the office. She likes these brown bags with letters on them that cost a fucking fortune. They don’t just buy themselves.”
“Handbags didn’t make her happy?” Roman asked.
“Guess not, since she’s divorcing me.”
“I never thought to buy handbags.” Roman grinned at the thought of Sadie getting excited over a purse. Yeah, that wasn’t his Sadie. “Maybe it wasn’t about purses.”
“Obviously.” He sighed. “Because I have enough of those damn things to fill up my entire car and we’re both miserable.”
“She used to let loose.” Roman didn’t need to open his wallet to see the image of Sadie grinning and striking her Madonna pose. He’d looked at that image of her so many times over the years that he had it memorized. “We went to a movie once and she tossed Reese’s Pieces and popcorn in the air and caught them with her mouth. Never seen a woman laugh so hard at something so simple.”
“We never did movies. My girl prefers the theater.”
“When’s the last time you took her to a show?”
The guy got a distant look on his face. “I have no idea.”
You know what, maybe what Sadie needed in her life were some Reese’s Pieces and popcorn she could toss in her mouth.
It made no real sense, but then again, what part of relationships made any sense?
Roman tossed enough cash on the bar to pay his tab and stood. “I’m probably making a
huge mistake, but I’m going to grab a Lyft and go buy candy and popcorn.”
The guy lifted his glass. “I hope you get to share it with her.”
“You figure maybe you should buy some theater tickets?” Roman asked.
“You know, I was just thinking that wouldn’t be a bad idea.” The guy ran his fingertip around the lip of his cup. Then he climbed from his stool and paid his own tab.
“What if she won’t go with me?” he asked.
“Send her with a friend?” Roman suggested.
“Make it about her.” He nodded. “Maybe that’s where I fucked up. I thought the purses were all about her, but…” He shook his head.
Roman got it. He did. And maybe if he could help Sadie be happy, they’d have a chance. Even if they didn’t, she’d be happy and, well, that would have to be enough.
“Hey Rome?” Brek called.
Roman did a chin lift toward his friend. “Yeah?”
“Eli’s down a bartender over at Eats and he texted an SOS. How are you with slinging drinks?”
“I’ve never slung drinks, but I learn quick.”
“It’s my understanding that Eli’s wife and a certain group of friends are hanging out over there tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m headed that way. You want to help us out tonight?” Brek did a series of fist bumps with the other bartender.
Oh boy, did he ever.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said to his new friend. “I’m Roman, by the way.”
The guy held a hand out to Roman with his business card. “Rex.”
“Good luck with your girl, Rex.”
Chapter Seventeen
With her head resting in her hand and her elbow on one of the cocktail-height tables in the lounge area near the bar of Eli’s restaurant, Sadie ran her free hand through her hair. “We could play a round of hot or not, boxers or briefs?”
“Alternatively, you two could help me out until Brek shows up.” Eli came up behind Marlee where she sat with Luke snug against her chest in his baby carrier. Eli set his hands on Marlee’s shoulders to give her an impromptu massage.
“Who didn’t show up?” Marlee glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Both new bartenders are MIA.” Eli glared at the bar area where they should’ve been. “Brek said he’d help out. He’s on his way.”
“Look at you, asking for help.” Sadie twirled a straw in her seltzer with berries and mint—a signature mocktail at Eats Grille.
“He’s come so far,” Marlee said with a sigh.
“Yet, you’re both still sitting here.” The words were said with a hefty helping of Eli’s signature grump, but Sadie knew it was all for show.
Apparently, so did Marlee. She gripped his chin between her fingers, pulling it toward her and pressing a smacking kiss on his lips. “We’re waiting for Heather and Anna.”
“Why don’t I help Eli with whatever Eli needs and you wait here?” Sadie was already standing and brushing at her jeans. “No need to risk waking Luke.”
“The hot or not game is no fun when I’m by myself.” Marlee scowled at her husband.
He pressed another quick kiss to her mouth. “Don’t check out my customers. Stick to checking me out instead.”
“Hot and boxer briefs,” she whispered against his lips.
Ugh. Gag.
Sadie made a noise and hand motions around her throat to accompany her gaggy opinion of the lovefest going on between them.
“Perfect timing,” Brek said, ambling toward them…with Roman at his side.
Sadie’s heart seemed to do an odd cha-chunk beat in her chest. She’d been avoiding him—and doing a great job of it—and now here he was.
“Marlee. Eli.” Roman greeted each of them, ending with, “Sadie.”
Oh man, she loved the way he said her name. He always said it like it meant more than just a few syllables and letters.
Since she was avoiding Roman, she’d spent her spare time with Marlee and Luke. He was her favorite man, and he probably always would be. The little guy was about to get the shit spoiled out of him by his Auntie Sadie. Sadie glanced at her nephew—still totally zonked.
“Boxers?” Marlee asked, eyebrow raised with a slight eye shift toward Roman.
Sadie nodded.
Roman’s mouth dropped open. “Sorry?”
He asked the question like he couldn’t possibly have heard correctly.
“The girls are playing a game.” Eli gave a final pat to Marlee’s shoulders. “It’s a stupid game.”
Roman’s eyebrows raised exceptionally high. “Is this a joke?”
He glanced at Sadie for confirmation. She lifted her shoulder the tiniest bit in her best whatcha-gonna-do gesture.
“Boxers,” Brek replied. “If you decide to do me next.”
Sadie refused to let her cheeks get hot. “I don’t think Velma would appreciate us asking you that without her present.”
Roman cleared his throat.
Slowly, oh so very slowly, she turned her head toward him. One look. It only took one freaking look from him and the rest of the world drifted away like glitter in the wind.
He stepped forward with an intensity that made her dizzy.
“Brek, you’re at the bar. Thanks for being here. Sadie, you’re in the kitchen. I’ve got a batch of Eaters that needs to be mixed.” Eli rubbed his hands together.
The Eater was Eats Grille’s signature drink. It tasted like an adult fruit punch but they served it with a sugar rim and a skewer of strawberries and blackberries. That way, they could charge extra.
“I brought other help.” Brek pointed his thumb toward Roman. “He’s got nothing to do tonight.”
“He’ll help Sadie with the Eaters,” Marlee chirped.
“I’ll happily help Sadie.” Roman moved closer to her.
Sadie had mixed buckets of Eaters before when Eli was doing his soft opening. She’d even memorized the recipe so she could make it at home. They were that yummy.
“Follow me,” Sadie said, heading toward the kitchen.
Roman followed to the small room beside the kitchen where Eli made desserts and mixed the signature cocktails in oversized batches.
The two of them had the room to themselves as Sadie pulled the laminated recipe card from a bin on the wall. They laid out the ingredients, neither speaking.
“You’re quiet,” she mused.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. The silence stretching between them rubbed against her like an itchy wall.
“That I’d like to touch you,” he said.
Her breath stuck like peanut butter against her ribs. She’d spent all that time trying to convince herself it couldn’t work, and yet, when he came around, she questioned the logic she knew was sound.
She cleared her throat, focusing on pouring a bottle of gin into the white bucket. “Oh?”
He moved behind her, observing the preparation but also somehow making her body crave the touch he wanted as well.
“Can I touch you?” he whispered against her earlobe.
Oh yes. Yes, he could.
“Yes,” she whispered, but it came out slightly garbled.
She set down the now empty bottle of gin. He moved his palm to her cheek, and it was one of the most intimate things she’d ever experienced.
Anna sighed. “Does he always ask that?”
Pop. There went the Roman–Sadie bubble.
“Hey, guys.” She waved. “Marlee suggested you might appreciate some assistance.”
Marlee was so wrong.
“You’ve got to stop doing that thing that makes me forget there are other people around.” Sadie turned her head so his hand fell from her cheek.
“He’s way into you,” Anna said. “You’ve got to admit it.”
“It’s true.” His hand had dropped, but his eyes never left Sadie’s.
Did he just declare that? He couldn’t just waltz into her life and agree that he was in
to her.
She didn’t make it a practice of doing it often, but Sadie dramatically rolled her eyes at Roman.
“I don’t know that you can say I’m totally into her though.” Then he broke the thread of their gaze, measuring the orange juice as the recipe dictated. “To be totally into someone, they kind of have to reciprocate at least a little. Sadie doesn’t seem to be into me, what with her dodging me every time I get close.”
“If you’re into me, then knock it off.” Sadie knew this recipe by heart, but with Roman around, her brain went fuzzy and she couldn’t focus. She stared at the typed card—next came the lime juice.
“Looks like you’ve got this handled.” Anna flicked her hair aside. “I guess I’ll go hang out with the girls.”
“Good call,” Roman replied.
Now, had Sadie been on her A-game, she might’ve realized the shift in Roman’s vibe. The subtle change to his tone.
Seeing that Sadie was not even on her C-game, she missed all of that until it was too late and Roman was right there and there was no such thing as personal space between them.
“Sadie?” he asked.
He was close, but he wasn’t touching her. Given that she was getting all sorts of worked up thanks to his proximity, she sort of did want him to touch her. Even just a light touch on the hand or something. It didn’t even have to be a good touch.
“Sadie?” he asked again.
Wait, what were they talking about?
She gulped past the sudden lump lodged in her trachea. “Yes, Rome?”
He moved even closer, and it was totally unacceptable, but she tingled. She did. All over. Even, honest to goodness, right between her legs. She pressed her thighs closer together in an effort to relieve even just a touch of the sensations Roman elicited.
He reached past her to the counter and his arm brushed hers. If there was truly such a thing as Tantric intimacy, she was so in the middle of it right then. Right there in the side room off Eli’s main kitchen.
She didn’t moan. Didn’t have to. The only two people in her world were right there, right then.
Roman lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. The lightest pressure. A tender touch. Her lips parted in what she hoped was an invitation for him to kiss her. She’d regret it tomorrow, she knew that. But right then, she really didn’t care about tomorrow. The only thing that mattered was right then.
Do Me a Favor: A second chance, hilarious rom com! (Mile High Matched Book 4) Page 18