My breath quickens, and I cast another glance at the exit. If I leave, he’ll give me hell on Monday, but maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—
But then I look at him again, he crooks his finger, motioning me to join them, and I move in his direction. My heart slams into my ribcage with every step I take. By the time I reach the table, my chest is sore from the pressure, and I grip the back of the empty chair to steady myself.
"Whoa! She made it," Ash chuckles and tips his drink to his mouth. Based on his ruddy cheeks, I can tell he's tossed back a couple too many already. The woman reaches over to him and ruffles his shoulder-length hair. He catches her fingers in his and plants a kiss in the center of her palm, which spreads a flush across her cheeks. "I've never been one to turn down gambling, so Jace bet me twenty bucks you'd bail. Glad to see this fucker will be treating us all to drinks."
His eyes still glued to me, Jace reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a brown leather wallet. "Don't worry, I'll have Daisy take it out of your pay." He rifles through the bills before withdrawing twenty dollars and tossing it in Ash's direction. The bill flutters to the table between the blonde's water and her tiny clutch. She snatches it up, holding it high to examine it under the light dangling over our heads.
"You’ve got to watch Jace, he'll sneak you Monopoly money and you'll be too drunk to notice," she states, and Jace tells her she's full of shit. Handing Ash's winnings over to him, she winks at me as I readjust my pencil skirt, so it won't rip right down the seam when I sit down. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jace scooting toward me. He leans forward slightly, so that his body is closer to mine, and it takes all my self-control not to turn into him.
"I'm Gwendolyn Exley, Jace's cousin,” the blonde says.
"And my DD." Ash clears a good amount of his dark amber beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He gives me a moment to introduce myself to Gwendolyn then he slides Jace's money across the table to me. "For the sweetest shark I’ve ever met because nobody—nobody—should go thirsty on a Friday night."
Other than my first day in the workshop, Ash has spent the majority of the last couple weeks working in silence with only his music as company. At first, I was worried that he was offended by me, but Daisy promised that's just his personality—he's quiet and just likes to get his work done. To see him drinking and talking so much makes me pause, and I momentarily forget that Jace’s blue gaze is burning into the side of my face.
"Take it.” Ash groans when I don’t rush to pick up the money. “Because if you don't I'll have to buy myself more drinks. Do I look like I need another fucking drink?"
"I guess not." It sounds more like a question and concern drips from my tone. As I reach for the money, I open my mouth to add a thank you, but the hand on my forearm halts my words. A beat passes, then two more, before I move, and Jace’s fingertips skim an electrifying path from the inside of my wrist to the tips of my fingers as I pull away from him.
I meet his stare—and the half-smile he’s sending my way—and my head spins.
He grabs his beer and nods toward the bar. Reluctantly, stupidly, I follow behind him, keeping a safe distance between our bodies.
"What's that all about?" I slide beside him on a seat at the bar, gripping the worn edge of the counter when I drag in a breath of his cologne. "Is everything okay with Ash?"
Jace motions the bartender, but she purses her glossy pink lips together and holds up a finger. Snorting, he turns his face to mine. "Ash’s roommate took off today without notice." I frown, but before I can ask more questions, he answers the majority in one quick swoop. "She took most of his shit right along with hers. Considering the situation, I'd say he's handling it like a champ. Don't worry, he'll be back to his old self by Monday morning."
I cover my hand over my mouth. "Are you kidding?” When he shakes his head, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shit. That's awful, is he pressing charges?"
Jace's full lips quirk. "She's his ex-girlfriend."
"Oh."
"So, he won't press charges—even if she was beating him in the face with the Xbox she skanked off with."
"Skanked off," I repeat, casting him an incredulous look. As the bartender starts our way, I continue, "You're worse than Jamie with all the made-up words."
"Another thing I excel at? Stop, Ms. Williams, you're turning me into a success story." I bite the inside of my cheek but hold back my response when he focuses on the bartender. He orders a winter ale then turns to me and gives me a questioning look.
"A mojito, please," I tell her directly, gaining a slight eye roll from her and a deep snort from him. Once she takes off, her silvery blond curls flying behind her, I hotly demand, "What is it now?"
"This is a tap house, love." Because I don't immediately grasp what he's trying to say, he bends his head down to mine and whispers in my ear, "Meaning that most of us order beer. It makes poor Michaela's job a lot easier."
“Michaela,” I repeat. It has to be a coincidence that the bartender’s name is the same as Jace’s ex-employee. The one he was very good friends with. The one who was fired from EXtreme for unknown reasons, and—
“It’s the same Michaela,” he drawls, and when my shoulder blades arch together involuntarily, he adds, “Your eyes were darting just now. I could tell you were thinking very, very hard.”
“You’re imagining things,” I lie, placing an elbow on the counter. I rest my chin in my hand. When he just stares back at me, his mouth curved in amusement, I ask, “But obviously, she knows how to make a mojito, yes?"
"Michaela can make anything," he confirms. I bet she can. I feel a nasty wiggle of envy because I already know they were lovers, but now I’m wondering if they still are. It's none of my business, but every time I glance her way, my eyebrows creep closer and closer together.
"So, Ash. What's Ash going to do?" I change the subject, hoping it will keep my thoughts from veering to the beautiful woman with the mess of wild, crazy curls. I trace a row of triangles into the condensation on his half-finished glass with the tip of my index finger. "Since he's not going to press charges."
"Replace his shit." Jace drags his glass away from me and my shoddy attempt at artwork and takes a deep gulp before letting me have at it again. "Hopefully he'll learn more about the crazy slags he—”
“That’s an awful word.”
“If the platform stripper heel fits, Williams…” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, hopefully he’ll learn more about the crazies he fucks before he lets them move in with him. And if he does let someone move in, he'll kick her out when they break it off instead of letting her hang around for months and leech off him while she fucks every cock that swipes right."