Page 40 of Whiskey Neat

“We don’t have to talk about him.”

Lowen turns to me, smiling. “Let’s move on. He’s the past, and I’m all future.”

We exit the car and as we walk toward the front, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Oh, and to answer your question, he didn’t present masculine but not as femme as I do. Ironic since I’m such a slut for a burly bear. The man who torched my heart is like a haunted doll. Delicate and fragile but hell-bent on your demise.”

My jaw drops as Lowen walks on. Damn. I thought I was bitter.

“Now.” Lowen flourishes his hands as we step inside the store. “I want a fine selection of martini glasses. That’s my drink of choice. What’s your favorite?”

“I’ll drink just about anything, honestly. I guess I’m showing my age and lack of sophistication.”

“It’s just preference. I was drinking dirty martinis at eighteen at my mom’s dinner parties. Lived in Switzerland too, so I started with wine and moved up.”

“I’ve never had a martini.”

“Ooh, we must inaugurate you then. Of course, Indy will tell you that all you need is a finely aged whiskey, neat. Too strong for my blood.”

“What does Kit drink?”

“Gin. Anything with gin. Ridley is more of a craft brew snob. His eyes light up when he hears IPA.”

I chuckle. “And the twins?”

Lowen pauses, his brow creased. “Is that what you call Bane and Jerryn?”

“Yeah. Nothing bad meant. They’re just always together.”

“That’s hilarious. They like mixed drinks and fancy cocktails with funny names. Now that I think about it, the twins is actually an appropriate nickname for them.”

“It’s cute that you guys have signature drinks and you opened a bar. Very meta.”

“Serendipity.” He bumps his arm into mine with a smile on his face. “Just like you being back in Willow Bay.”

“Yeah.”

As we look at glassware, I let our chat sink in. I’m gonna work on looking at the bright side. I’ll have fun with Indy while it lasts, and keep my heart far out of reach.

Piece of cake.

Nearly four hours later, after visiting five restaurant supply stores, Lowen is happy with his selection. On the way back to Willow Bay, we swung by the bakery and then a restaurant and ordered a shit ton of food for the guys, and my mouth waters from the smell of chicken parm filling the car.

I brace myself to see Indy again as we enter Moby’s, hands full and stomachs growling. Ridley and Kit see us first, rushing over to help, but Oakley seems to zero in on Lowen, taking every bag he’s carrying.

“Thank you,” Lowen says sweetly. His tone is completely different with Oakley. Gone is the snarky edge and dramatic cadence, replaced by something sensual and a little bit sweet. Hmm, he’s probably kryptonite to a bear like Oakley.

Indy steps out from behind the bar, and instead of a smile, I’m greeted by smoldering eyes and his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Christ on a cracker, this man.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

Indy nods, his eyes roaming up and down my body. “I sure am.”

“Fuck yeah,” Kit hollers. “They picked up Giovanni’s.”

“Couldn’t go to the city and skip it,” Lowen says, helping set out containers on the tables. “We got a sample of everything.”

“Ooh, perfect timing,” Jack says, removing his hard hat.

Indy moves closer to me, and I swear I just heard him emit a little growl. It shouldn’t be hot that he’s possessive and jealous when he has no right to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s not.

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