Page 5 of Sack

Emerson disappeared into the back and Ivy reached down to grab her camera case. “I’m going to take some pictures while we’re waiting. You’ll be okay sitting by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,Mom. Go. Do your thing.”

Ivy made her way to the side of the room and tucked herself into a corner to make herself inconspicuous. Most of the tables were full. She zoomed out, taking a wide shot, capturing mainly the backs of heads and profiles. She could lightly blur any people she’d caught full-face.

She panned the room, taking a few more shots, stopping at a table where three men were seated. Her mouth fell slack. Holy Sith! Unthinkingly, she clicked the shutter three times in succession. Not daring to blink, she zoomed in on the one with the most interesting features. Dark-brown hair cut short. Strong jaw covered with stubble. Full lips. Roman nose. He wasn’t as beautiful as the African American sitting to his right, or as big as the blond guy with the Nordic features across the table, but there was something about him that intrigued her. He captured her attention and held it.

She tried to angle the camera to see him better, but with the way his head was turned, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes—darn it. Most likely they were brown, as seventy-five percent of the world’s population were with blue coming in a distant second at only ten percent. The chances his eyes were green—her personal favorite—were slim. Only five percent, in fact.

Her finger hovered over the shutter button, but just as she was about to snap another picture, he turned his head. His gaze zeroing in on her. She took it back. Green was no longer her favorite. The deep-chocolate brown of this man’s eyes was. Surrounded by long, thick lashes that would be the envy of any woman, they were breathtaking. Then those gorgeous eyes narrowed, and it completely ruined their effect.

She lost his attention when he stood, saying something to his tablemates. Tipping her head back, she followed him with her camera. Holy Chewbacca, he was tall. His strides ate the distance of the dining room as he came straight for her. She lowered the camera but was otherwise frozen in place as she watched him approach, anger in his every step.

Um… Yikes.

Chapter Two

Colt

Looking for loiterers, Colt scanned the area around the restaurant before getting out of the car. Paparazzi had a nasty habit of coming out of the woodwork. He supposed he should be flattered he was big enough news to draw their attention, but honestly, it just pissed him off. Nothing could ruin a morning more than seeing a bunch of tabloids running an exaggerated story. And all from the inference of one photo. According to them, in the past three years, he’s had over ten girlfriends, was engaged twice, fathered three children, and his house was vandalized. It was amazing what people could do with Photoshop nowadays. Making it a fact, that in this day in age, a picture may still speak a thousand words, but they were all mostly lies.

Linc pulled into the spot next to him, revving his Porsche 911 before cutting the engine.

Show off.

Colt opened the door of his more practical BMW and stepped out.

“Looks like Oz beat us here.” Linc tossed his keys in the air, caught them, then shoved them in his pocket.

Colt scanned the parking lot. Oz’s Escalade was parked in a prime spot near the front door. “Come on, let’s see if he got us a table.”

Oz was not hard to miss, taking up more than his share of the bench on his side of the four-seater booth he’d snagged. Colt and Linc weaved their way through the restaurant to the table. He liked the fact it was tucked into the corner—less chance of their meal being disrupted.

“Hey, you made it.” Oz wore a big, goofy grin. The man did love his food.

Colt followed Linc into the booth and picked up a menu.

“Isn’t this place great? Irish-themed specialty burgers. Who’d have thunk it?”

Colt frowned at his menu. “Don’t think I’ll be trying the Black and White Pudding Burger.” His stomach rolled as he read the description.

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Colt looked up at Oz. “It drew the line at pig’s blood.”

“Banger Burger? Not sure what that is but it sounds like it was named after me,” Linc added his two cents with a grin.

“Banger is Irish for sausage,” Oz informed him.

Okay, that wasn’t so bad, Colt thought. “And what about rashers?”

“Bacon,” Oz replied.

He could eat a bacon burger. That settled, he put the menu down and looked around the room. Most tables were filled with an eclectic mix of customers ranging in ages from kids to adults. He noticed the game room wasn’t occupied, but it was still early. More than likely, after the dinner rush, the party crowd would roll in and both the bar and game room would see more action.

Catching a flash of something, he trained his gaze to a far corner and saw the reflection of a camera lens pointed at their table. He ground his teeth. Fucking paparazzi were everywhere.

Colt stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

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