Page 19 of Flame and Fury

“So, what now?”

“I think we should have a conversation with the bartender.”

She cringes, gaze darting over to the woman. “Maybe I should do the talking. She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

I huff out an annoyed breath before clamping my mouth shut and locking my emotions back down. Wren’s eyebrows raise before a grin slowly grows on her face. “Has no one ever been able to withstand your charms?

“Please. I could win her over.” I may have been a pawn for Hera to play with, but I watched the gods, I watched the elites flirt and seduce. I know how much a seemingly genuine smile can disarm someone. Well, not Wren, but that’s because she’s too damn stubborn.

“Maybe don’t try to dazzle her with your golden good looks or flirt with her.”

“You think I have golden good looks?” I cock my head and watch as warmth blooms in her cheeks.

Wren rolls her eyes. “Just reel in your weird Atlas mojo that you use to convince people to do stuff. Be your normal scowling self. She’ll probably like that better than your other fake personality.”

“And you? Which version do you like best?”

Wren levels me with a stare and then turns away. She murmurs “ass” under her breath, but loud enough that I know she’s not trying to be quiet.

She lifts her hand slightly off the bar and gives the bartender a one-fingered wave. The woman slips her phone into her jean skirt pocket and comes to a stop in front of Wren, angling her body to give me her back. Wren chuckles, low and soft.

“You’re a sore winner.”

“It's sore loser. And you get that honor,” Wren says.

I shift in my seat so I can whisper in her ear. “I like it when you gloat.” My mouth brushes against her ear. Wren’s breath hitches, but she keeps her eyes forward.

“Thanks again for the beer,” Wren holds up her glass, awkwardly.

“Thank gods we’re not relying on your charm.” I mutter just loud enough for Wren to hear. She adjusts her hold on her glass so only her middle finger is extended.

“My pleasure. It’s a little thing I can do for the people's champion.” The bartender dips her head.

That has Wren blinking in surprise and me holding back a laugh. What did I just tell her?

“I told you I don’t lie.”

“Liar,” Wren hisses at me, then tentatively smiles at the bartender. “So…um…here’s the thing…”

This is hard to watch. I set my elbow on the bar and rest my cheek on my fist. “We wanted to ask you–”

Wren throws up an arm and pushes me back. She angles her body forward to try to block the bartender's view of me. I slide a finger up the inside of her bicep, and she snaps her arm back.

“Ignore him. He’s used to getting things by batting his eyelashes. I’m Wren, by the way.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” the bartender answers. “I’m Sylvie and this is my bar.”

The two of them grin at each other, bonding, or something.

“Nice to meet you, Sylvie. I like your place. It reminds me of where I work back home.”

That has Sylvie giving Wren a skeptical look. “Not that I’m not thrilled to have the people's champion sitting on one of my barstools, but was there something you needed from me?”

I take another sip of warm beer. Wren wanted to take control, so I’m content to sit back and let her steer this ship. I must not be laid-back enough for her preferences, because she reaches over and pinches my leg, a warning to butt out. Only her hand is extremely close to my dick. I choke on my drink and Wren’s hand flattens on my leg. My cock twitches and I curse under my breath when her pinky brushes against my quickly hardening length.

Wren snaps her hand back. “Oops.”

“As if anyone believes that was done by mistake.” I can’t help but tease, especially because Wren doesn’t seem to expect it from me. She straightens her shoulders but doesn't respond to me.

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