Page 29 of Flare Up
He knew almost everybody in the bar, so it took him a few minutes to make his way to the pool table alcove where most of the E-59 and L-37 folks were milling around. And Wren.
“Hi,” he said to the group at large, but he was looking at her.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said. “But I’m glad you showed up.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re not going to try one of Lydia’s cocktails?” She held up the red drink, which he was guessing wasn’t her first.
“Nope. I’ve gotta show up bright and early tomorrow morning, and I’m driving,” he said. “One beer is my limit tonight.”
“For a bunch of us,” Gavin said, holding up his half-empty mug. “The worst part is nursing it so you can put off switching to water or soda as long as possible, but not wanting it to get warm.”
They made small talk for a while, as people shifted around and came and went, but he was never far from Wren. At one point, he lost track of her, and then she reappeared with a fresh cocktail.
She caught him scowling at her—Lydia was known for a heavy pour when it came to her friends—and winked. Then she licked the sugar from the rim of her glass. Slowly. Deliberately. Never breaking eye contact with him.
He sucked in a breath and then took a healthy swig of his beer, even though it wasn’t going to do a damn thing to cool him off.
And she knew it. The look she gave him over her glass could have melted steel and he had to clear his throat before he stepped close enough to her to speak.
“How many of those have you had?”
“Are you counting everybody’s drinks or just mine?” She smiled sweetly, but he heard the undertone. Basically, she was a grown-ass woman and it was none of his business how many cocktails she had. “Lydia’s bringing out cupcakes soon.”
“Cupcakes?”
“For Valentine’s Day. She got them from a bakery for tonight.”
“You wanna share a cupcake with me?”
“Share?” She considered it, pursing her lips in a way that got all of his attention. “I will share my cupcake with you.”
Wren loved cupcakes, so sharing was a pretty big deal. “We should head that direction because I know this bunch. Cupcakes won’t last long.”
They timed it out perfectly. As they reached the bar, Lydia was opening a huge box of cupcakes. She slapped a couple of hands away and then started putting them on cocktail napkins.
“What flavor are those?” Tommy bellowed from the corner.
Tommy Kincaid had a place of honor at the bar, over in the corner, because he owned the place. And his best friend for decades, Fitzy, sat next to him. They were retired from E-59 and L-37, respectively, which was one of the reasons this place was like a second home to so many of them. And the fact Lydia, Ashley and Scott were his kids. And Danny and Aidan were his sons-in-law. Jamie was his daughter-in-law. It was literally a family hangout.
“Red velvet,” Lydia yelled back.
“What the hell’s wrong with plain, old chocolate?”
Lydia gave her dad an exasperated look. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“So?”
She just rolled her eyes and kept serving. Since Wren’s drink was still half full, Grant set his empty mug on the bar and grabbed one of the cupcakes. He wasn’t a huge fan of red velvet cake and didn’t have much of a sweet tooth in general, but Wren wanted one.
They moved out of the way of the others trying to get to the bar, ending up near the wall, under the picture of Bobby Orr.
Hopefully nobody would break a glass and interrupt them. If you broke a glass at Kincaid’s Pub, you had to kiss Bobby Orr—or, really, kiss your fingertips and press them to the glass—or bad things would happen. And the Kincaid family had the stories to back it up, so it wasn’t really optional.
“Ladies first,” he said, holding the cupcake out to her, with the napkin under it to keep crumbs from falling in her drink.
Apparently, the red velvet cupcake was good because she closed her eyes and made a low, throaty sound of pleasure that was so familiar, every muscle in his body tightened in response.
