Page 2 of Reckless

The women burst out laughing, heads flying back, at something Tyler said, and it hit me. They were here for thecutest bartender in Boston. Charming.

These girls were going to stay there for a while by the looks of it, so I took a deep breath and marched over there. I wouldn’t choose to start the conversation in front of an audience, giving our history, but I had no choice apparently.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagined Tyler lifting his gaze and meeting mine before I reached the counter, but that didn’t happen. He didn’t even glance in my direction. He was focused on his customers.

I sat right next to the bachelorette and her friends. They were having a good time and I couldn’t help but smile. I would have to throw a bachelorette party for Clem at some point.

Minutes passed and Tyler seemed unaware of the fact a new customer was sitting there, waiting for a drink. So I cleared my throat and tried to raise my voice enough for him to hear me without sounding like I was desperate go get his attention.

“Excuse me?” I waited for him to turn and finally notice me. He didn’t. “Excuse me? Hello?” I waved my hand in his direction determined to catch his gaze.

The girls were too loud. He was flirting with the one wearing a Maid of Honor crown on her head, leaning closer to her, whispering something in her ear, while she batted her eyelashes.

I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself by calling him a third time, so I just lifted my butt from the wooden stool I was sitting on, leaned over the counter putting my entire upper body in front of the girls.

The laughing and shouting stopped. So did my heart the moment his eyes met mine. The good thing was my brain was still working properly so I managed to say something instead of just starring at him.

“Can I have a drink and a word, please?”

My voice sounded soft and smooth, like I wasn’t affected by the fact we just saw each other for the first time in so many years.

He squinted for a moment, then a half-smirk formed on his lips. He tore his gaze away from mine and looked back at the girls.

“Ladies, can I offer you a table?” He was already waving his hand at a waitress. She practically ran over to him. “Chloe, could you please help the girls move to a table? I need to take care of an issue.”

The wordissuewas accompanied by his thumb pointing at me. I pursed my lips together, suppressing a smile, not at all offended. On the contrary. I loved the fact I was causing him inconvenience.

The maid of honor took her drink with one sharp movement and sent me a death glare. I cocked my head and flashed her a grin.

“Oh, come on. He’s not that cute. Nor is he that funny.”

I was the last person on the planet to have the right to say something like that to any woman regarding Tyler. My infatuation with him had been of the worst kind. The kind you couldn’t shake off until it completely destroyed you. And perhaps in some cases not even then.

Fortunately for me, I managed to shake it offafterhe destroyed me.

The girl just scrunched her nose at me and followed her friends to a free table. Chloe gathered the drinks and left me and Tyler alone.

He took a glass and started wiping it dry absent-mindedly. His eyes were slightly narrowed at me. Someone who hadn’t spent years of their life obsessing over his beautiful face wouldn’t even notice. But I did.

“I am not that funny, huh?”

I lifted my chin up. “And I am an issue?”

He put the glass on top of a pyramid of shining glasses, ready to be used. “What do you want, little Spencer?”

That nickname. I used to be so annoyed when he called me that. It made me feel like I was nothing but a little girl to him. When I finally got rid of my ridiculous feelings for him, I found out he never thought about me to begin with, let alone analyze how he perceived me. He didn’t attach a meaning to that nickname. It was all inside my head. Just like the connection I believed we always had.

“I would like a drink.” I wiped a drop of something sticky from the countertop with my middle finger, buying time.

Tyler stepped to the side and waved his hand in the air pointing to the bottles behind his back.

“Scotch, please.”

He barked out a laugh but took two glasses and poured us both a drink.

“Won’t you get in trouble for drinking?”

“I’m the manager,” he gulped his scotch in one go and slammed his glass on the counter, his eyes clinging to my face. “You got your drink. Why are you here?”

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