Page 12 of Something Cryptid This Way Comes
“Bram Macleod.” My jaw tight, I keep my hold on Trevor. My tone isn’t as friendly as it should be, considering I don’t personally know this guy and Trevor’s never mentioned being interested in a flirty ginger bartender. But what if he is? I don’t like it. At all.
“Oh,you’reBram.” He smiles. “I should’ve recognized the Macleod blue eyes. Gorgeous color.”
The muscles under my hand tense. Trevor presses closer to me, edging the barest bit forward. Like maybe he’s trying to block me from Conall’s view?
Conall continues, “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Conall Kelly. My brother Rory is friends with your brother Charlie.”
“Oh. Right. I know Rory.” Come to think of it, Conall resembles his brother, with the green eyes and red hair. “And yeah, I don’t think you and I met when I lived here.”
Conall looks like he’s about thirty, so he’s five years younger than Charlie and Rory. His tee with The Striped Maple’s logo pulls tight over his chest as he wipes the bar. “Welcome back to Maplewood. Everyone’s talking about your upcoming investigation. I know we’re offering a drink special for your attendees. What can I get you tonight?”
“Whatever you have on tap is fine.” I turn my head toward Trevor. He’s so close, my lips nearly graze his temple. “Trev, what do you want?”
His gaze darts to my mouth, and I swear I hear the faintest whimper come out on a puff of warm airfrom his lips before his gaze returns to my eyes. “The same. Thanks. And a hard cider for Jo.”
“Coming right up.” Conall moves away, whistling as he goes, only to stop and compliment the person three seats down.
The tension in Trevor’s muscles eases, though he’s still standing close enough I can see the lighter shades of caramel in his eyes. “He’s like that with everyone.”
I run my thumb back and forth along his shoulder because I have yet to move my hand from it. “Good thing I’m not interested in him. Are you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve known Rory and Conall forever. We’ve been spending more time together since Alaric started dating Jake. Jake’s older brother is Zach, one of Rory’s partners.”
“So many tangled threads.” I don’t know who any of these people are, and I don’t care, but I would listen to Trevor list everyone who lives in Maplewood if it meant being this close to him.
“You have no idea. Wait till everyone is in one room. Pure chaos.” Gaze still locked on me, he tips his head in Conall’s direction. “Conall’s sweet. He genuinely means the nice things he says. But he’s only interested in one person, though he won’t admit it.”
Ah. Much like me.
Conall returns with our drinks. Trevor claims his and Jo’s then his gaze goes past my shoulder toward the other side of the patio. “Alex just arrived and is heading this way. In the green shirt, twelve o’clock.”
“Thanks.” Drink in hand, I turn in that direction.
A shorter guy with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his nose, waves as he approaches us. “Hi, Trevor. And you’re Bram?”
“That’s me.” I extend my hand and we shake. “Nice tomeet you. Thanks for taking the time.” I gesture toward the bar. “What can I get you?”
Before Alex can answer, Conall slides in and leans over the bar. “Hey, Alex. Your usual?”
“Sure. Thanks, Conall.”
Conall winks at him then gets busy mixing a drink, tossing out compliments to Alex, me, and everyone else in the vicinity as he works.
When Conall sets the glass on the bar, I tap the polished wood. “Add it to my tab.”
He gives me a thumbs-up in response before he moves on to the next patron.
“I’ll leave you to your interview. Alex, you’re welcome to join us for dinner when you’re finished.” Trevor gestures toward the table with Jo and our other friends.
“Thanks, Trevor. I’d love to, but I’m meeting Cody after this.”
“Tell him I said hi.” Trevor smiles at us, pats my shoulder, then waves and heads back to our friends.
Alex points out two vacant barstools toward the far end of the bar. “Let’s sit there.”
Holding my drink high to protect it from the throng, I follow him. This section is less crowded and out of the path of foot traffic, less of a chance of getting jostled or interrupted.
He takes a sip of his drink, then leans in so we can hear each other over the din. “How has your investigation been going?”
