He considered that, and I noticed he didn’t get all shifty or uncomfortable when I said the “M” word, like some guys definitely would.
“My partner, Naveen,” he said. “Because he’d be genuinely happy for me. He’s happily married himself.”
“That’s nice.”
“After that, I’d call my uncle.”
“A-ha,” I said. “I knew it. When do I get to meet him?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You want to meet my uncle Rob?”
“You’re my boyfriend now,” I informed him. “And you’ve already met most of my closest relatives. I mean… if that works for you.” I took a nonchalant bite of my food.
“Yeah,” he said. “That works.”
I grinned, and took a sip of my Crantini to try to cover it.
Too late. He totally saw it.
“Let’s get another drink,” I said, as a server walked by and I waved her down. “We’ll have another round,” I told her, before Ronan could respond. Our drinks were still half-full.
But we could remedy that.
“Absolutely,” the server said, and headed off.
“What?” I said to Ronan. He was staring at me. “We took a cab,” I reminded him. “There’s a reason.”
“Yeah, so I could have a drink and not worry.”
“About…?” I prodded. “We’ve got security.”
Our security was, at the moment, eying us while he ate a plate of wings.
“About my defenses slipping,” Ronan muttered.
Defenses?
“With me?” I asked innocently. “Or you mean… your security guy super-senses?”
“I’ll have the second drink, but that’s it.”
I noticed he didn’t answer my question.
“Hmm. I wonder what you’d be like if your defenses slipped…”
Tantalizing. That question was way too tantalizing to not want an answer to.
“A shit show,” he supplied.
I laughed. “What?”
“I get goofy when I get drunk.”
“Goofy? I can’t picture goofy on you.”
Ronan just went back to his food. Our drinks came, and I finished my first Crantini in one fell swoop. I was still examining that comment…
“I need more information,” I decided. “What do you mean by goofy? You get… clumsy? Silly?”
“More like… nice.”
I laughed again. “What?”
“I’ve been told I’m much nicer when I’m drunk.”
“And in your world… nice equals goofy?”
“It is when you can’t control your tongue.”
I stared at him. “You are so getting drunk tonight.”
He chuckled, but he looked uncomfortable. I’d never seen the man look this uncomfortable before.
Well, except for when I stripped down in front of him for the first time—repeatedly—in Devoid’s studio.
“You are so afraid of losing your filter and saying what’s on your mind in front of me.”
He said nothing.
“You don’t like losing control. I get that, you know.” I sipped my second drink. “I feel the same way.”
“Right. That’s bullshit.”
“How?”
“You’re completely at ease with drinking, socializing, flirting and saying whatever you want to.”
“Hey. I have a filter.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’re very selective about what you say and to whom. I’d go so far as to say you’re calculating, and not in a bad way.”
“And you’d be right,” I agreed.
“You care about what people think, and feel, because your goal is to entertain them, right? Like you said, you want to make people happy.”
“Uh-huh.” I liked that he paid attention. That he listened to everything I said.
“But I’m not as… natural… with those things as you are,” he said. “I tend to just bite my tongue. You know, keep quiet. So I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”
“Maybe we should loosen your tongue.” I picked up his first beer, the one he hadn’t even finished yet, and handed it to him. “I’d love to have a conversation with Ronan Sterling, unfiltered.”
“You mean drunk.”
“That, too.”
He eyed me over the rim of his glass. “You know, I have a policy. I don’t drink with clients.”
Nice try.
“I’m gonna assume you don’t usually fuck them, or date them, either.”
“That would be true.”
“So? You’re already breaking the rules tonight. Why not go nuts?”
“Uh, going nuts isn’t really my style.”
“Then go nice,” I said. “The fact that when you get drunk you get ‘nicer’ tells me you’re nice already. The lack of filter just lets you express it a little easier.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” he muttered into his beer.
“We could find a reason to drink,” I suggested. “If that makes you feel better about it. We could be celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Your newfound freedom from the rules.”
He gave me a look.
“For tonight, I mean.” I figured anything more than one night might’ve blown his mind too much.
Baby steps.
“And that’s something to celebrate?” he asked.
“Hell, yes. It doesn’t take much, anyway. I’ll celebrate pretty much anything.”
“I noticed.”
“In my opinion, life is one big celebration.”
“I noticed that, too.”
“You notice everything, I know. And yet… I know very little about you.” I cocked my head at him. “You just agreed that you’re my boyfriend and I’ve convinced you to introduce me to your favorite uncle. But I haven’t even seen your apartment. Do you have an apartment?”
I knew he did. He’d told me so.
“I do.”
“You don’t spend much time there.”
“Not lately.”
“Then maybe we should swing by. You know… make sure your plants haven’t died, that kind of thing.”
“I don’t have plants.”
“Ugh, Ronan,” I complained. “Work with me here. I want to see your place. I was trying to be subtle about it.” I took a sip of my drink, eye-fucking him over the rim of the glass.
“Were you?” he said, eye-fucking me back.
“Yes. Now what does a girl have to do to get you to take her back to your place, throw her down and fuck her on your bed?”
He watched as I licked Crantini off my bottom lip. Slowly.
Then his eyes met mine again, hooded with desire.
“That’s pretty much it.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer
After dinner, Ronan took me back to his apartment like I wanted him to.
And Andre came with us.
I invited him. If Ronan wanted to bring another man along on our first date, but wouldn’t tell him we were on a date… so be it. I could play along.
Though it was possibly my third Crantini that decided
