Page 87 of Spilled Coffee

“Brick...” Abbey whined, a tired edge to her pout as she shifted position. “Are we going soon?” Her dress inched higher up her thighs until bare skin brushed against his jeans. “Let’s carry this on back at your place.”

Brick blinked slowly as her words filtered through the tequila fog and when they finally clicked, he let out a low chuckle and grasped her hips, pulling her tighter against him. “You wanna party at my place?” he slurred, grinning wide enough to show dimples beneath the scruff.

“Ido,” Lisa chimed in, nipping his ear, her breath warm from dancing. Her gaze shifted, her flirty smirk souring as her eyes narrowed over his shoulder. “Oh great…” she groaned, “looks like Mr. Asshole is back.”

Devon loomed over the booth divider, his dark silhouette outlined by the flicker of neon. He grinned, teeth flashing, unfazed by Lisa’s glare. “Hey, about earlier,” he clarified with a slight tilt of his head. “I guess I owe you an apology for bailing the way I did—it wasn’t cool.” He shrugged one shoulder in mock humility before adding, “I just had some stuff on my mind that I needed to take care of, but as it turns out I wasn’t needed where I thought I was.”

Lisa hesitated, then softened as Devon’s hand slid over her shoulder. He leaned in, kissing her with a well-practiced move, and she melted into it.

“So...” he continued, pulling back as if nothing had happened and turned his attention fully on Brick. “Is she right about taking this back to yours? I’m up for it.”

Brick frowned slightly, not because he disagreed but becausethinkingfelt like an Olympic sport after four (or was it five?) shots of tequila chased by only God knew how many beers.

He felt a strange unease about Devon. Earlier, he had bolted mid-hookup with Lisa, leaving Brick tangled in both girls’ eager chaos. Now he was back, all charm and pearly-white teeth, sporting a faint bruise on his jaw. Brick considered the bruise, wondering who might have put it there.

Though his booze-soaked brain didn’t actually care. “Yeah, sure... I’m up for it,” he continued to slur. “But how about a tequila for the road first?”

“Sure, why not,” Devon said, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he held Brick’s gaze a beat too long. “Stay put while I grab some. It’s gonna be a night to remember.”

As Devon walked away, Brick studied the confident swing of his shoulders. Something about that guy bothered him, but in his current state, he couldn’t figure if it was suspicion or something else entirely.

CHAPTER 49

“C’mon, let’s go,”Abbey murmured, her voice soft and coaxing as she pressed against Brick, her breath warm on his ear. The faint scent of her perfume mingled with the sharp tang of tequila that lingered in the air between them and as she nuzzled his neck, her lips left a bold red stain on his collarbone, a mark as unapologetic as her presence.

Brick tilted his head back, eyelids heavy with a drunken haze as her fingers trailed over his chest, tracing patterns on his half-open shirt.

“Yeah, babe.” His words slurred together as he clutched a shot glass of neon-green liquor—something Lisa had insisted he try before they left—while his other hand rested limply on Abbey’s hip.

Abbey’s gaze flicked over Brick’s shoulder, catching on Devon weaving through the crowd toward the bar. She studied him, her expression shifting before she snorted softly. “Maybe he’s not such an asshole after all.” Her lips curled into a smirk before she turned back to Brick, who was too far gone to notice.

Devon leaned against the bar, elbows braced against its polished surface as though staying upright required effort. His knuckles were bruised and he could feel the dried blood crustedhis dark hair where Ethan had smashed the cheap lamp over his head. But here, in the pulsating neon of the club, none of that mattered. This was a chance to rewrite tonight’s script, if only for a few hours.

The bartender worked quickly, pouring tequila into four glasses lined up like soldiers. The amber liquid caught the light and gleamed like molten gold beneath electric-blue strobes. On the tray sat a small pile of lime wedges and a salt shaker that looked comically out-of-place amid the bar’s sleek modernity.

Devon’s grin was a mask honed over years of hiding whatever churned beneath. He reached into his pocket and fished out a crumpled twenty, but froze when his fingers brushed something smooth and cold: a small vial of clear liquid. His smirk wavered as he withdrew his hand and handed over the twenty.

Not yet. Timing was everything,and Lisa’s watchful gaze across the room reminded him he wasn’t operating unnoticed.

He returned to the booth, balancing the tray. “Doubles!” he announced loud enough to cut through the music.

Devon’s gaze flickered toward Lisa before snapping back to Brick.

Brick didn’t look up at first, too preoccupied with Abbey’s breasts as she draped them over him. His hands were unsteady, and as he reached for the glass, he spilled tequila over the rim. “Hell yeah,” he finally barked, slamming back the shot without salt or lime.

The burn hit instantly, spreading through his chest like wildfire, leaving him lightheaded and grinning.

“Another!” he demanded with a half-choked laugh.

Abbey grabbed her glass, raising it in a theatrical salute before tossing it back in one swift motion. She winced—her face scrunching—before dissolving into laughter. “To an epic night!” she declared loudly, drawing cheers from a nearby table.

Lisa followed, downing hers without ceremony. Her lips pressed together afterward as if mentally cataloging every detail unfolding around her.

Devon lingered over his drink, lifting it slowly and letting its sharp scent fill his nostrils before taking a measured sip that contrasted with Brick’s abandon.

“Another round?” he asked, setting his empty glass upside down.

Brick mumbled something, nodding sluggishly, as though each movement required monumental effort. “Why not. Party at mine’s gonna go off.”

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