Page 3 of Score on You

His reputation as the favorite bartender is on full display as he flips bottles in the air before dumping a variety of liquor in a shaker. The women seated in front of him applaud his efforts. They lean forward in a fluid motion to give him a peek down their shirts. Unfortunately for them, he doesn’t take the bait.

Garrett is completely devoted to his fiancée. Not that his lack of interest will discourage these chicks. If anything, they see the reformed playboy as a bigger challenge. This is proven when the brunette in the middle stretches to rest a palm on his forearm. He’s quick to evade her touch, scolding her with a wag from his index finger.

“Didn’t we talk about this earlier?”

The woman sticks out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Um, I forget. Maybe you should tell me again.”

“Keep breaking my rules and you’ll have to deal with Ridge.” He hitches a thumb in my direction.

She doesn’t spare me a glance. “But I like your tattoos.”

“An even better reason to try your luck with him. He’s got more ink than me.”

Her eyes flick to where I’m standing behind the bar, several feet away from them. She frowns at my flat expression. “He doesn’t look very friendly.”

Garrett chuckles. “That’s because he’s not.”

The blonde in their pack isn’t shy about checking me out. Her stare penetrates deeper than an X-ray. “He’s sexy as fuck, though.”

My indifference cracks into a scowl. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Garrett shifts sideways to block me from view and preserve their generous spending. Another wise choice. “Don’t mind the grouch. I didn’t hire him for his glowing personality.”

One of the girls scoffs. “Why did you then?”

“He’s just using me for money,” I mutter.

Which isn’t too far from the truth. It might’ve been Garrett’s grand plan to open this place, but he couldn’t do it alone. The best business decision he ever made was recruiting Drake and me as co-owners.

“You’re more than a bank account to me, big brute.” The guy I’ve known since freshman year of college tosses me a smirk.

“I suppose surrounding yourself with those you trust is a wise investment.” There aren’t many I can rely on more than Garrett and Drake.

“Quit playing. I couldn’t run this cock den without you.” He thrusts his arms wide and motions to what we’ve built over the last three years.

The ridiculous nickname our regulars gave Roosters threatens to make me smile. “It doesn’t hurt to be associated with King Crusher from the Trojans.”

The redhead chick sputters. “As in the condom brand?”

Garrett bends at the waist and cracks up. “Nah, as in the professional sports team.”

She joins in his humor, but her laughter lacks true depth. “You’re good friends, huh?”

It’s no surprise this stranger catches the natural comfort between us. She probably would’ve noticed even sooner if Drake was out on the floor with us. Our brotherhood formed when we met in college during freshman orientation. The bond didn’t break when I left campus after that first year to go pro.

These days, Knox Creek considers our trio a dream team. That’s more than likely due to us putting Garrett’s talents to good use.

“I only keep the best in my company.” He flashes a broad grin at his adoring fans. “What can I say? Ridge is a big shot. Most of the jerseys on the walls belong to him.”

The redhead’s eyes stray to our collection of framed history along with other sports memorabilia blended in. “Football, hockey, or baseball?”

“Hockey,” I grunt. The alternatives couldn’t handle me.

A pitchy gasp responds to that tasty tidbit. The blonde peeks out from behind the barrier my buddy attempted to create. She has a hungry gleam in her wide gaze. “Oh, you’re like really rich?”

“Fucking vultures,” I spit.

“Okay, Thor. Quit swinging your hammer. She was just asking a question.”

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