Page 4 of Hard to Forgive

Okay, no, I had not suddenly developed the magical ability to be charming because that question was anything but.

“You’ve been watching me since I got here. You came over to buy me a drink. Am I reading it wrong?”

Okay, so he was very direct. I liked direct. Direct left no room for miscommunication and anxiety about said miscommunications. I could work with that.

“You’re not reading it wrong. I’m just—I’m just not used to people being so blunt. Except my best friend, but we’ve already decided he’s an anomaly.”

Si let out a bark of laughter. “I guess you could say I’m one too, then.” He paused to take another drink of his beer. “So what do you say? Want to get out of here?”

It wasn’t even a question. When an incredibly attractive man asked if you wanted to get out of there, there could only ever be one answer.

“Yeah. Let me just go tell my friends.”

I made my way back to our table where four sets of eyes were watching the scene at the bar like it was an interesting television show. They didn’t even pretend not to be staring.

“So?” Holden asked, leaning forward to eye me from the middle of his bench.

“You guys mind if I head out?”

“Location turned on?” Matt slurred. He was drunk but still beingthatfriend.

“I thought I was the one with the anxiety issues?” I teased.

“Yeah, but right now you’re thinking with your dick, so we have to be your anxiety,” Seb teased back. “Share your location and text me when you get back to your place?”

“Promise.”

“Have fun and be safe,” Eli sing-songed.

I flipped him off again before making my way back to where Si waited. I flagged down the bartender to close my tab and moments later, we were heading toward the door.

I was going to have so many regrets in the morning.

I just hoped this man wasn’t one of them.

2

The Rusty Nail hadnot been what I’d expected when I’d entered it. I’d expected a dive bar, but not the level that it delivered. The bar and floor felt vaguely sticky. It made me wonder if they cleaned it properly at night or if they let that stickiness linger in an attempt to create atmosphere.

Whatever it was, I was not a fan.

I was a fan of the way I could physically feel someone watching me. It was a man sitting at a table with four other men, talking and laughing and cutting up and never able to take his eyes off of me.

I was not surprised when the same man came over and sat beside me later, offering to buy me a round. He attempted small talk. I couldn’t handle it. I was at the bar for one thing: distraction.

I needed to be distracted from my new job. I started in the morning, and while I had grown up walking the halls of my uncle’s tech company, it was different to be going in as an employee. I was already well aware how my future colleagues would view my start there: nepotism.

They wouldn’t see my degree or the fact that I’d earned my position through hard work and skill. They wouldn’t see any of the good traits I brought to a team. They would only see the fact that I was on good terms with the CEO. It would only get worse when they learned that he was my uncle.

I was used to it.

More than one bitter person had said the only reason I’d been accepted into MIT had been my mother’s maiden name. My work silenced them. My uncle might have given me a few legs up in my life, but he would never risk his business by putting me in a position I had no right being in. And I would never allow my uncle’s name and reputation to be the only thing that paved the way for my success.

I didn’t want to think about it until it was absolutely necessary.

Instead, I would focus on the distraction in front of me: Jonas.

There was something familiar about the man, something that tickled in my brain, but I couldn’t place him. If he’d grown up in King’s Bay, our paths had likely crossed at some point. He looked to be around my age, maybe a year or two younger. Whatever the case may be, he was attractive and that was all I cared about.

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