Page 84 of Fight Or Flight

Ethan’s brain turned, trying to place the familiar song as he took off his jacket and sat.

“Hey, isn’t this Bublé?”

His eyes widened as Michael Bublé’s perfect crooning voice struck up with the music, and he started singing about a woman he was happy to be rid of.

He shot up out of his chair, nearly knocking it over, and grabbed his jacket. “I’m out.”

Adam lunged forward and grabbed onto his jacket, pulling it from his hands, and pointed at the chair. “You made a deal. You haven’t had a beer yet. It’s just a song. Tune it out.”

Ethan exhaled and slumped back into the chair. He tried to tune out the song, but it was impossible. Natalie had said the purpose of the day song was to remind you of all the fun you had on your trip. He was transported back to that cliff with her by his side, her knees up to her chest, his arm around her shoulders as she cracked open her soul for him. He could feel the warmth of her skin against his. One thing was certain—the day song did its job.

“It’s psychological warfare,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Adam asked.

Ethan shook his head.

The song mercifully ended just as a pretty waitress came bouncing over in a tiny black skirt and low-cut black shirt that stretched across her chest.

“Hey, Adam,” she said, leaning toward him and completely ignoring Ethan.

“Hey . . .” Adam hesitated.

“Lacey.”

“Hey, Lacey, how’s it going?”

Lacey giggled a little, leaned in closer. “Better now. I hear you’re my new boss.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but it was more of a whole-body roll. He could just imagine what Natalie’s reaction would be if she were there with him. Her dark eyes would crinkle the way they did when she was amused, and the corners of her mouth would pull up into a pretty smirk.

“Uh, yeah. I guess,” Adam said. “We’ll take two pints of the session IPA and some nachos.”

“’Kay!” she said, then twirled away and walked to the bar with swaying hips.

Ethan stared at Adam, who was looking at him instead of at Lacey. “You know, when I said ‘no girls,’ I meant for me.”

Adam waved a dismissive hand and looked out over the crowd. “She’s too young. And technically, she works for me. You know how I feel about employees—”

He stopped midsentence, his eyes going wide.

“What?” Ethan twisted in his chair, followed Adam’s gaze, and his eyes immediately landed on bright-red hair. Before he could look away, Lindsay made eye contact and waved.

He raised an awkward hand, then turned back to Adam.

“Did you just . . . wave?” Adam asked with a murderous look.

“She waved first.”

“The only appropriate response is to flip her off.”

“You know, this wouldn’t even be an issue if I was still on your couch. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Here are your beers,” Lacey said, putting coasters down on the wood tabletop, then placing two frosty glasses down. “The nachos will be out in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, then looked away.

But Lacey refused to take the hint. She flipped her tray under her arm and shifted her weight onto one foot to angle herself toward Adam.

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