Page 85 of Hard to Judge

“Sounds like Karris is buying tonight,” Hard says, tipping back a fresh drink. Not bourbon. Vodka maybe? It’s clear with no fizz.

Arlo waves him off and pats Karris’s shoulder. “You know I love being able to do this for us. Without you, there’d be no me.” His gaze scans our intimate group and then stops on mine.

The desire to fucking run to him like a sickly sweet movie, throw my arms around him, and kiss him senseless in front of everyone sinks its teeth into my nape.

But that’s not what we do. Not in public anyway and not for a long time.

I nod and steer away from the cluster to the self-serve bar. Essential when we talk business or pleasure. It’s best not to have witnesses, even if it could only be considered hearsay.

Though I want a couple of fingers of bourbon, I only serve myself one that I’ll nurse all night. I drove, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving my car here overnight.

“Anyone want something while I’m back here?” I spin a full bottle of tequila in my palm to distract myself.

“Scotch. A fucking big one,” Dobson demands, finally moving fully into the room. Slowly, he makes his way to the bar next to Hard, leaving several feet between them.

I grab a mug suitable for a dark ale and just pour, and pour, and pour his favorite label. The bottle is half empty when I replace it and slide his mug over.

“Aye.” He nods and starts gulping.

If it was anyone else, I’d worry. Dobs has been drinking Catholic priests under the table since he was a loun n lad. I only know that means young boy in Scotsman speak because languages interest me, and I looked it the fuck up. He can hold his alcohol better than anyone I’ve ever seen.

“I’d like something,” a sweet, sultry voice rings to my right.

Sure enough, my sunshine stands behind the bar with me, radiating warmth.

“Anything for you,” I whisper.

Her smile grows impossibly bigger. Then her arm shoots out with grabby fingers. “A proper hello is a great place to start.”

I crouch low, wrap my arms around her middle, and stand. Her weight presses against my chest. The thud of her heart knocks into mine. I lift one hand, wrap it around her head, and hold her.

As I breathe her in, everything else falls away.

For a few moments, I feel weightless, and then Karris speaks.

“I want a hug,” he whines. “How come nobody hugs anymore?”

“People hug me all the time,” Astor chimes. “Maybe it’s just you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice? You’re a therapist,” Karris objects.

I kiss Hailey’s head, then set her on her booted feet.

When we turn around, Astor has come closer to the group, shaking her head. “I’m off the clock.” She taps her finger against her lips. “If you want to hire me, I’d love to dig into your psyche.”

“Sounds painful,” he grouses.

“Come here, you big baby.” Arlo holds his arms wide and then pulls Karris into his chest when he just stares.

Hailey squeezes my hand and gives it a little shake. I can’t help but squeeze hers back.

Arlo releases him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. A contented smile fills our man’s face.

Oh fuck. He’s not mine. Not like that. I can’t start thinking he is. Otherwise, I’m doomed.

I drop Hailey’s hand, using tidying up the bar as an excuse.

“I’ll give you a hug,” Hard offers with his arms wide.

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