Page 13 of Courting the King of Cliffs

Bad sign.

I needed to stop drinking.

I took another sip anyway.

“We do. We’re on the first floor,” Long-hair said, grinning like I should be impressed by that.

Maybe if I was who I claimed to be, I would’ve been impressed.

As it was, I was not.

“Cool.”

The woman set another drink in front of me.

I shook my head at her, but she was already walking away, so she didn’t see it.

And that drink tasted way too delicious.

One of the men started telling a story that had to do with work. Thanks to my drinks, I found myself laughing, and the guys laughed along with me.

I told a story of my own—I don’t even remember what it was about. Probably about a house I’d been building. The stories grew funnier and funnier as I drank my third glass and ate the food that was set in front of me.

I didn’t take the time to savor it, but I was enjoying my conversation with the men, so it didn’t matter.

The alcohol dulled my senses enough that I didn’t get overwhelmed in the slightest—which was why I didn’t let myself drink it very often.

It would be way too easy to get addicted to that shit, considering my situation.

Though the men were all flirty, none of them made a move on me or anything, which I appreciated. I was just finishing up my food when I caught a whiff of my favorite stony-spice smell, and glanced over at the entrance to the restaurant.

A tall, beautiful man stood at the front, talking quietly with the guy by the door. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, until one of the men I was with said something ridiculous that made me snort, and then laugh, loudly.

The beautiful man at the door glanced over at me, and then did a double-take.

I looked at him, and realized I knew him.

Ohhhh, damn.

Granite had caught me.

I mean, there was no reason for him to care that I was having a nice lunch or dinner with new friends, right? I didn’t even know what time it was, honestly.

That realization made me laugh again, louder.

Granite looked at my companions, and his expression darkened.

He crossed the room in the blink of an eye, and I jerked my head backward, looking from him to the entrance quickly.

The men with me went quiet when Granite stopped at our table.

“You’re fast,” I told him.

My voice was definitely a little slurred.

His nostrils flared, and he growled, “You’re drunk.” He shot an accusatory look at the men I was with, and two of them raised their hands.

“She ordered the drinks, not us.”

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