Page 34 of Of Grief And Gratitude

Sloane giggled at his exaggerated accent. “Stop flirting. Drinks and betting await!”

As soon as Rian pulled into traffic, Sloane commandeered his radio and flipped to a rock station, singing loud enough to drown out conversation. I joined in and was smiling by the time we got to O’Connor’s. Rian dropped us out front and went to find a parking spot, since he was staying until we needed a ride home.

Alcohol and faint cigar smoke greeted us when we strode through the front doors, and a group of older regulars shouted their drunken hellos.

A portly man with a grey beard grinned. “’Ave ye come ta steal our pensions?”

“Only if ye’re unwise enough ta lose ‘em ta a lass,” Sloane teased, mimicking the man’s accent.

A black-haired beauty named Kiera tended to the area of the bar we walked up to. “Hey, girls! What can I get you?”

“That depends,” Sloane said conspiratorially. She leaned her elbows on the bar. “What’s the demographic look like tonight?”

Kiera glanced around before giving a brief nod toward the other side of the bar closest to the pool tables. “Some young and stupid suits at the other end. I’d start there. Bruise their ego a bit, and they’ll challenge you.”

“Perfect.” Sloane pretended to flip her hair and surveyed the competition. Three men in navy suits drank whiskey on ice in tumblers. “Whiskey for both of us.”

Kiera poured the amber spirit into glasses and slid them across the bar. “Good luck, ladies.”

“Thanks,” I laughed. “I think talent will be enough tonight.”

Sloane and I made our way across the pub, avoiding the pool table at first and swaying in front of the electronic jukebox as we sipped on our whiskey. Soon enough, we caught the attention of the men at the end of the bar, and they weren’t subtle about turning on their stools to stare. I bumped into Sloane for good measure, spilling a drop of whiskey on her chest.

“Oh, no!” I gasped dramatically before reaching out and tracing the trail down her decolletage. “Let me get that for you.”

A tall, lanky man with dark brown, wavy hair and too much confidence in his brown eyes appeared at our side, holding out a napkin. “Here.”

I popped my finger into my mouth and made a show of sucking the digit, pretending not to notice how his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“So you have,” he croaked, covering his falter with a cough. “How about you girls let us replace those drinks?”

Sloane took our empty glasses and handed them over, swaying just enough to bump into the man. “You’re so sweet.”

He stared down her shirt and licked his lips. One of his buddies was tired of waiting and joined us, draping an arm across my shoulders. “Hey, gorgeous. What’re you drinking?”

I looked up into his blue eyes, widening my own. “Oh, you’re handsome.”

“I’m Bryce.” His grin told me he was already done for. A lock of blonde hair fell artfully across his face, and I wondered if he’d curled it intentionally.

“Ri,” I answered, matching his smile and giggling again. “And I’m drinking whiskey, of course.”

The third man placed drink orders for all of us, and Kiera winked as she placed the drinks on the counter. He was shorter than his friends but broader, like he might spend quite a bit of his free time in the gym. I thought of Romeo, which threw me off my game for a moment.

Sloane elbowed me in the ribs and whispered, “Get with the program.”

“Oh, that looks like fun!” I pointed to the pool table and swayed my hips as I sauntered over, setting my drink on a nearby table and plucking a pool cue from the wall. I tapped the tip with my finger and giggled when my finger turned blue from the residual chalk.

Sloane leaned over the pool table and snagged the cue ball, setting it in front of me. “Let’s see you hit it.”

I made a show of lining up a shot and wiggled my ass before shifting the stick to the left and barely tapping the ball, sending it slowly rolling in the wrong direction. “Well, damn. That’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Here, let me help you.” Bryce leaned over my back and pressed his body against mine, a little too close, as he demonstrated how to line up a shot. This time, I hit the cue ball dead center and broke the balls apart, pocketing a stripe.

“Oh, you’re a genius!” I gushed, grabbing Bryce’s hand. He didn’t let go, and I thought I would have to tear my hand away for a second.

Sloane saved me by bumping into him. “Oh, sorry! Fuck. At least I didn’t spill the whiskey!”

The men took turns teaching us how to play pool, and Sloane and I started teasingly challenging them as we sloppily hit more shots with their help.

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