Page 12 of Shift Change

“You could’ve let me wake up like a normal human instead of causing a goddamn earthquake.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, like I said, extreme measures.” He rubbed my chest, and I froze. It wasn’t rough—a warm swipe of his hand across bare skin—but it seemed weirdly intimate. To hell with it. I’d already figured out Holky was a touchy-feely guy, so it was probably a Holky-ism. Before I could think of a snarky comeback about his so-called extreme measures, he shoved me out of my own bed.

I hit the floor with anoofand lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling. If this was how he planned to wake me up every day, I had to make finding my own place a priority.

“Hey.” Holky changed positions so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, grinning at me. “Come on, bud, I’m starving. And you’re buying.”

“Am I?” I deadpanned.

“Yep.” He stretched, groaning like a man who’d just finished a hard day’s work. “Consider it rent.”

A laugh snuck out before I could stop it. “You’re a menace.”

He got off the bed and smiled. “And yet, here you are, living with me. You’re either incredibly brave or deeply stupid.”

“Or maybe both?” I pushed myself off the floor and rolled my neck, glad he was back to being fun-loving Holky again. “Fine. Let’s go eat.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “That’s the spirit. Now hurry and get dressed before I starve to death. I’d hate to haunt you.”

* * *

Dinner was beef on weck sandwiches, which Holky said were a Buffalo specialty—sliced roast beef piled on a salty roll and dunked in jus. He took me to a place called Scionti’s, swearing it was the best in town, and judging by the food, I wasn’t about to argue. With its dim light, red and white checkered tablecloths, and the aromas of garlic and fried food soaked into the walls, it reminded me of Nana’s favorite place in Ithaca.

Holky was in his element, shooting the shit with the server like they were long-lost cousins. Before I could even glance at the menu, he ordered for both of us. “Trust me,” he said. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

He didn’t; the sandwich was amazing. He watched me take my first bite like a proud dad and smiled when I groaned in appreciation. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said before shoving another bite into his mouth.

When our plates were empty, we sat with our legs stretched out under the table and hands resting on our stomachs. I was about ready to slip into a food coma when Holky wiped his mouth, tossed his napkin aside, and grinned. “All right, rookie. Now that you’ve seen how Buffalo does food, it’s time to show you the town.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”

His grin turned wicked. “Absolutely. Ever been to Chippewa?”

“No, I’ve never gone out in Buffalo. Is it a club?”

“Oh, buddy. It’s a whole fucking street of bars and clubs, one of the hottest spots in town. We’ll hit up a place called Revolution Hops. Big team hangout after games.” He shot me a grin, half-mischief and half-conspiracy. “There’ll be plenty of hot women there, so you’ll either have to fight them off or get ready for a mind-blowing night with multiple partners.”

A flicker of heat curled low in my gut. It had been months since I got laid, but though a quick hookup sounded good in theory, I wasn’t ready. Getting cheated on by your girlfriendandyour two best friends wasn’t something you bounced back from quickly.

I didn’t want to dump my sob story on Holky, so I returned his grin. “Something tells me you’re the voice of experience.”

He twisted his mouth into a smirk. “Gentlemen never tell, but Holky does. Let’s just say there’ve been a few memorable nights—like the one with three personal trainers who were out celebrating the launch of their new business.”

“Oh man. And you lived to tell the tale.”

“Barely. There was very little sleep involved, bud. All fun and games, and I didn’t make it home till one the next afternoon.”

He went on, dropping enough spicy details to fire up the horniness in my system. Unfortunately, there was not a bit of actual interest. How the hell was that even possible?

I pushed back from the table and tossed my card down. “That’s for the bill. I’ve got to hit the men’s room.”

* * *

We squeezed inside Revolution Hops, where the cold air we dragged in mixed with the sour tang of beer, sweat, and questionable life choices. A live band was cranking out music that sounded like old-school Vampire Weekend had a love child with an overenthusiastic drumline, and hundreds of customers were shouting to be heard over the music.

The crowd was mixed, a blend of what looked like college kids, young professionals in slick outfits, and older guys who were either chatting up middle-aged women or ogling girls half their age.

I elbowed Holky. “You think we’ll get a drink before we lose our hearing?”

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