Page 52 of Brooklyn Cupid

“Yeah,” he drawls. “Like Jace.”

Becky snorts.

They gotta be the hottest sales team I know, and while we talk, mostly Jace and Roey, exchanging jokes, completely at ease with each other, I can’t help thinking that they are also the most unlikely salespeople I’ve ever met.

We are getting drunker. Becky is weirdly quiet, looking around and avoiding Roey. People start pushing against us. This place is suffocatingly crowded.

A tall bulky guy bumps into Tito, who puts his palm against his back and says, “Sweetie, another step and you’ll be on my lap.”

The guy shakes his hand off and gives Tito a stare, then murmurs, “Faggot.”

“Watch your mouth!” Becky snaps and gets into a short spat with him while Roey and Jace exchange glances. Jace’s eyes narrow in a slightly vicious glare, something I’ve never seen in him.

“Hey, hey! Cool it!” Roey finally snaps at the guy and straightens up, his chin raised in an intimidating manner.

Becky jumps off her chair and motions for the guy to back off.

“Okay,” she exhales in irritation, “one more drink, and we are leaving. It’s suffocating here.”

Jace moves out of his seat. “I’ll get ‘em.”

But Becky stops him with a curt, “Girl talk. You hold the fort,” and we fight through the crowd toward the bar.

“So, Roey, huh?” I tease her.

Becky rolls her eyes. “He’s a—hashtag—alpha hole.”

“Maybe just confident. Your type.”

“Hell, no. Way too cocky. He’d probably be good in bed, though. If he kept his mouth shut.”

She is a talent scout and has an eye for creative minds, also for hot guys, good food, and new ventures. And, oh, does she know how to read people.

It takes forever to place the order with the bartender in the packed bar, and as we carry the drinks to our table, there’s a commotion in the crowd.

People crane their necks over others’ shoulders, to where our table is. When we approach, the table next to ours is a mess like it was shaken, drinks spilled, glasses everywhere. Both the guy who made a slur at Tito and his buddy are crouching on the ground as everyone throws startled glances at Jace and Roey, who are on their feet next to them.

“What happened?” I ask in shock.

Roey rolls his shoulders. “Nothing. They ran into the table, and it got a little messy. The guy is drunk.”

“Serves them right,” I murmur, turning to Jace.

There’s an edge in him, sharp gaze, clenched teeth, not a trace of the usual sweetness. It’s eerie but sexy.

And Tito is staring at me with raised eyebrows and a startled look on his face.

A bouncer and another man are making their way to us. “I need to ask you to leave,” the man says—the owner, I’ve seen him before.

Becky throws her hands in the air. “Wait, what?”

“Fighting is against the rules in this place. Both parties are leaving.”

“We are not at fault!” She turns to Tito. “What the hell?”

Tito is being all diplomatic. “The guys were making remarks, and—”

“That might be so,” the owner cuts him off, “but your friends started the fight.”

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