Page 7 of Best Served Cold

I nodded.

I hadn’t planned on going out tonight, but a couple of beers after work wasn’t unusual for the crew. And it wasn’t like we had anything to rush home to, either.

Bubbles peered at the half-finished ceiling. We were nearly done with the standard sheets, but the room had a shit-ton of cutouts and artistic framing choices that made the work tedious. “Another hour?”

“If that.” Gray motioned to Rath. “We’ve got the machine on our crew. We’ll knock these out in no time.”

Rath pretended to blush.

I rolled my eyes as Gray and Bubbles laughed like he was the funniest guy on Earth.

“I got the deets to the party,” River said, bounding back into the room. “Next Thursday, so we can actually go.”

The club Gray, River, and I worked at was only open on Friday and Saturday nights, with the occasional Sunday or weekday for a private event. That meant we usually had an excuse to skip things, but not this time.

“Yay,” I deadpanned.

I didn’t know how it happened, but somehow Rath had managed to secure an in with River and my friend group.

Well, River’s friend group.

Even using the term ‘friend’ was a stretch. We’d known these guys since high school and occasionally hung out with them, but we weren’t really part of them.

Rath was quickly becoming one of them, though. After only six weeks of living here and three on our crew, he’d become a regular fixture in their get-togethers.

That pissed me off, and I had no idea why. What did I care that they liked Rath more than me? I’d spent the last seven years being a prickly asshole and giving them every reason in the world to not like me.

It wasn’t even that he was like a brooding version of my brother with his quick smiles and friendly nature. Rath was personable and charming when he wanted to be, two things no one would ever describe me as.

He was just…everywhere. I had to put up with him all day at work, then again when we went to the bar after. Now he was more a part of the friend group I’d known for seven years, so I couldn’t even get a break when I did venture out and do the peopling thing with my brother.

At least he had no connection to my other job. I needed one facet of my life that was Rath-free.

“Ralph’s tonight?” Gray asked River.

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

Rath, who’d just lifted a sheet of drywall above his head, spluttered with laughter, his arms shaking as he tried to stabilize it.

I slipped under it with him to steady it.

“Thanks.” He adjusted his grip. “Got it.”

Letting go, I stepped back, as my brother and Gray got into position for their part of the process.

My eyes lingered on Rath’s biceps as he maneuvered the sheet into place. Something about the curve of them was strangely fascinating, and I couldn’t stop myself from checking out his impossibly wide shoulders and strong back.

A strange sensation hit, like a little adrenaline drop deep in my chest.

The fuck?

Dragging my gaze from his back I focused on the job at hand. Thank Christ the week was almost over and I’d get a few days away from Rath and all the things about him that pissed me the fuck off.

2

NOAH

Becca: can you pick up more formula on the way home?

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