Chapter Thirty Grant
CHAPTER THIRTY
Grant
“TAKE THIS,” LUCAS YELLS over the music from across the bar.
I stare at him for a few seconds before letting him slide a cold beer into my hand. “Thanks.”
“Not lookin’ so great, bud.”
“Fuck off.”
He shakes his head and looks out at the crowd. It’s busy. Very busy, in fact, which is great. Excellent news.
I swivel on my barstool, eyes searching for anyone who might be in the market for a partner tonight. There. Cute redhead.
Dammit. No redheads. I’m done with redheads.
“What are you doing?” Lucas has come around the bar to stand beside me.
“Checking out the crowd.”
“Yeah? What about the sub who followed you down here?”
Immediately, my hackles rise. “What about her?”
“Down, boy. You think I’ma try to steal her off you?”
Just the notion makes my hands tense up, readying for a fight.
Lucas, of course, notices. He’s not just a fellow kinkster and a friend. He’s a jock, an ex-fighter. The guy knows when someone’s gearing up for a tussle and, dammit, that is not me. I’ve got to release this adrenaline running through my veins or I’ll lose it.
“No.” I shake my head more to clear it than anything else. “’Course not.”
“All right.” His eyes flick down to where I’m doing my best to loosen my hands before returning to look at my face. “Mind if I say something?”
Forcing back a sigh, I take a long swig of my beer. “Go ahead.”
“Never seen you act like this before, man.”
“Great. You trying to tell me I’m losing it or—?”
“I’m trying to tell you to maybe pay some attention to yourself, for once.”
“Oh, ’cause I’m usually so selfless?”
Lucas stands up to his full height, folds his arms, and stares me down with those weirdly pale, piercing eyes of his. “Remind me again. How much rent is your neighbor paying for those offices upstairs?”
“None of your business.”
“Right.” His lips curve up in a slow, knowing smile. “You’re not even charging Dorothy, are you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Again? Real eloquent tonight.”
“Yeah, well, she…” I pause. Am I truly here blaming Rae for the fact that I’m being an asshole? “I can’t stop thinking about her, man.” The truth comes out in a rush.
“You like her.”
“I’m attracted.”
He shrugs, a movement that reminds me of some huge geographical feature shifting. Tectonic plates or mountains. “Why are you denying yourself?”
“It’s unprofessional. And she’d… want more.”
“She tell you that?”
“I know her. She’d want…” I search for some way to express this knowledge I have that Rae isn’t a one-and-done kind of person. She’s someone you’d have to stick around for, and the fact is, that is absolutely not my game.
I do not do any sort of long-term relationship. Ever. Not with women, not with, hell, houses or jobs or anything. Even my friendships have been pretty short-lived. By choice. Lucas and Harlow are rare for their continued presence in my life.
“How the hell do you know what she’d want? You ask her?”
“I…” My mind blanks. “No. I haven’t asked.”
“Bro.”
“Well…” After a few seconds, I sigh. “Get another beer?”
“Hey, Rogue.” Lucas calls the bartender over.
“Yes, Tank?”
“Could you mix us up a couple of your specials, please?”
“Just a bourbon,” I break in.
“Come on. You’ll love this one.”
I groan.
“Two specials for the bosses? Hell yeah.”
“I’m not your boss!” I yell as Rogue slinks away, all lean, bare-chested grace. They are very, very popular. As Lucas always says, get a bartender that everybody wants to fuck, and you will always sell drinks. Cynical but true.
Which sounds more like me than Lucas.
Ironic, I guess, given how rough his life was growing up and how easy I had it.
Yes, I moved around a lot, but there were years of Lucas’s life when he and his siblings were homeless, living out of their minivan, while I always had my very successful dentist mom and some new middle-class white guy to fund whatever I needed.
“Two Sweet Subs for the two hottest people here.”
“Sweet Subs?” I choke out, looking over at Lucas.
“Thought you’d like that.”
I shake my head.
“Thanks, Rogue.”
“Anytime, Tank.” After a wink, they turn and sashay away, a little extra sway in their hips.
“Rogue’s flirting with you,” I tell him.
“Definitely.”
“Never flirts with me,” I muse.
“Wonder why.”
I accept my glass from Lucas, move to take a sip of the orange foam on top, and stop when he says, “Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got something to say.”
“Ah, hell.”
“No. Seriously. Listen.”
I settle back onto my stool.
“You’re a dick, Grant.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. You know what? I didn’t come here for—”
“But you’re my dick. And I take care of what’s mine.”
“You’ve got to be kid—”
“As the only guy here who’s stronger, smarter, and better looking than you—with a bigger penis—I feel that it’s my obligation to tell you…”
“Mm-hm.”
“You’ve got to top this woman.”
“Come on. Are you—?”
“Denying yourself is making you miserable. And a miserable Grant is a sad sight to see.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“You’re so miserable it’s like you’ve turned into the Upside Down version of yourself.”
“What?”
“Stranger Things? I know Harlow made you watch it. Remember the bad place? That’s you. Like there’s a good Grant, and there’s a messed-up Grant, and you’ve transformed.”
“You’re saying I’ve gone to the dark side.”
“Except not sexy.”
“Is the dark side ever sexy?”
“Sure. Darth? The Siths? Adam Driver?”
“Just… put it here.” I hold my glass out for him to tap with his and take a sip of the drink, and it is… “Damn.”
“See?”
“What the hell’s in this?”
“Gochujang, apparently.”
“I don’t even know what that is.” But it’s damn delicious.
“You really need to get out more.”
“You are aware that I don’t have a humiliation kink, right? I did not come in tonight to get insulted.”
“Did you come in to smash that cutie against the wall out in the vestibule?”
“First of all, she smashed me against the wall first.”
“Oooooh, nice. You find yourself a switch, General?”
I make a face. “Nobody tops me. You know that.”
“I don’t know. A little topping from the bottom never hurt a guy.” He takes a long sip, his eyes smiling as he watches me. “I heard you kissed her first.”
“Seriously?”
Lucas’s single eyebrow lift is a thing of ironic beauty. And yes, I should know better. Obviously, Harlow and Daff have been providing him with a detailed blow-by-blow since the second I showed up here tonight.
“I have no privacy,” I say, to which he just lifts that damned eyebrow higher and says, “You have no private life. Not the same thing.”
“All right.” I take another sip and let the drink expand through me, all spicy, sweet, and salted smoke. It’s pretty extraordinary. “You think I should… see her.”
“You should at least give it a try, man.”
“What if Sunny wants long-term?”
His deadeye stare is effective on most people. Just bounces right off me.
“What?”
“With y’all’s chemistry, it’d be a waste not to see where it goes.”
“She’s just so…”
Lucas waits.
Nothing more comes out of my mouth, but I notice my breathing’s gone all messed up.
“How much longer you planning to work up there? Couple weeks?”
“If that.”
“Give her that. See what happens.”
The idea has appeal. The possibility races through me, bringing with it relief. Peace. Within seconds, I’m calm again, my breathing deep and even, my pulse slow. In control, which is the farthest thing from what I was out there with Sunny in the vestibule. That wasn’t a scene. It was mayhem.
Maybe Lucas is right. Being around Sunny without touching her is making me lose it. The solution is obvious: I’ve got to Dom her, keep a hold of the reins, and maintain control. For both of us.
Piece of cake.