Page 47 of Forecheck
“What a small world,” Brent said absently.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened behind me, and Amara yelled, “Shots are ready! Get your ass back in here!”
I grimaced, but the point of tonight was to let my hair down and let loose. I couldn’t very well do that from the street, and definitely not if I spent any more time on the phone with Brent.
“Sorry, Beej, but I’ve gotta go! I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay! Miss you!”
“Miss you, too!”
Unable to hide the grin on my face, I walked back inside and sidled up next to Amara, lifting the one of the shots she’d ordered to hers in cheers.
“Phone call from your boy?” she asked.
I only nodded and brought the liquor to my mouth. It burned all the way down, and I welcomed the warmth that spread through my chest and belly.
“Now it’s a party!” Amara yelled, then turned to the bartender to order real drinks.
I requested a tequila soda, and as I was stuffing my credit card back into my tiny clutch, a body pressed against my back.
Fully prepared to turn and give them a piece of my mind, I was stunned into silence when a large, warm palm settled on my hip—a hand I knew very well.
I whipped around, eyes wide, and Brent grinned.
“Surprise?”
I didn’t even stop to consider questioning him, or berating him for showing up unannounced. There was only relief coursing through my veins as I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. The citrus and woodsy scent of him wrapped itself around me, instantly quelling the loneliness I hadn’t even known I’d felt until this moment.
“What are you doing here?” I asked against his mouth when he leaned in for a kiss. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I have a concussion, Blondie, not a broken bone. I’ve been sitting on my ass for four days, and I’m over it. I really wanted to see you, and I didn’t see the point in waiting until you came back.”
“Okay, but you really shouldn’t be drinking,” I said. “Promise me?”
He extended his pinky, and I wrapped mine around it. “Promise.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said with a grin, raising my voice to be heard over the Cardi B song the DJ had just switched to. “But for the record, I hate surprises.”
He grinned, not the least bit bothered. “Noted.”
An insistent tap came at my shoulder, and I turned my head to meet Amara’s eyes.
“Oh, shit,” I said, smacking myself in the forehead. “Amara, this is Brent. Brent, my friend Amara.”
“Pleasure,” Amara said, extending a hand to Brent, who took it happily. “Berk, I should warn you that Lee is here.”
“Who is Lee?” Brent asked.
“My ex,” I told him with an eye roll.
“Want me to beat him up?”
“Absolutely not, you crazy ass man. You have a concussion, remember?”
“I guarantee he’d never get a swing in. I’d have him on his ass with one punch.
While I didn’t doubt that, the last thing I needed was bloodshed in the middle of a packed club on my behalf. “It’s fine, Brent. Really.”
