Page 130 of On Thin Ice

Morgan turned back towards the bartender.

Jacob sighed as he skirted around the side, giving Morgan a three-stool berth.

He tapped his glass and the bartender shot him a look, then shook her head. “You’re done here,” Jacob said firmly. “Come on, let’s go and leave this poor lady alone.”

“She’s not poor now,” Morgan muttered. He looked up, met the bartender’s eyes. “A hundred bucks a shot,” he said. “If you keep them coming.”

She looked unimpressed.

“I’ve got booze at my place,” Jacob said, deciding that maybe for once in his whole life, the carrot might work better for Morgan than the stick.

“I don’t want your booze,” Morgan sniffed.

“If you want booze, it’s gonna be mine,” Jacob said.

“Ugh, you’re such a fucking boy scout, aren’t you?” Morgan sneered.

“I thought we established two days ago that I’m not.”

Morgan’s face went white, and that was the only warning Jacob got before he swung a fist at him.

As a goalie, Jacob hadn’t been in that many fights, but he knew how to defend himself. He also knew how to duck, especially when Morgan was about four times slower than he normally was.

Jacob dodged the punch and then wrapped his arms around Morgan’s middle.

Morgan kicked out, but Jacob told him warningly, “Iwillkick your ass, and I promised Finn no blood. I’d rather not break that promise.”

Surprisingly, Morgan went still. Jacob had been sure he’d have to put him in some complicated headlock to get him to stop fighting him, but he went slack, so suddenly Jacob almost dropped him.

“You’re gonna tell him, aren’t you?” Morgan’s voice was plaintive.

“About?”

“Me punching you.”

“Good try, but you didn’t connect,” Jacob said, really trying to hide his amusement. “No blood, no foul. I think we can keep that moment of shame between us.”

Morgan sighed heavily and struggled out of Jacob’s grasp.

Jacob made a warning noise, but Morgan just shrugged, all the fight gone out of him as he slumped against the bar.

“What does he owe you?” Jacob asked.

The bartender looked over at the pair of them and reported what was left on his tab. He gave her props because it didn’t seem inflated, despite the fact that she had to know by now that Morgan was rich.

Morgan squawked as Jacob reached over and pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

He pulled a couple hundred dollar bills out and set them on the bar. It more than covered the tab—with alotto spare.

“It’s your own fault,” Jacob said unrepentantly as he tossed the wallet back to Morgan, who barely caught it. “Now come on, let’s go.”

“To your house? With the booze?” Morgan asked, still sounding disgruntled but to Jacob’s surprise, he did follow him, a little unsteadily, out of the bar and down the street to his car.

He paused as Jacob opened the driver’s side door.

“Am I—” Morgan bit off a swear word. “Am I not gonna want to sit in this seat?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t defile your son there. I’ve got a whole house for that.”

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