Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (18 page)

“Nice to meet you, Thea. Tristan Cooperson, not Whiskey Sour.” I order myself to stop ogling the curvy-sexy goddess. I extend my hand, touching her. Fuck, I sound and feel like a teenager in lust.

Thea stares at our hands for several seconds, mirroring the dumbfounded reaction that her touch creates. An electrifying surge radiates through my hand, traveling all over my body. I have to move before it consumes me, but I don’t want to. This feels right. Perfect. Her eyes shine, locking with mine. For the first time, I notice their strange coloring—blue with a hint of purple. The dim light of the bar never allowed me to appreciate them.

“Do you want to come up for some coffee or tea, maybe water? I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.”

“Yeah, we have time,” Matt says, opening the metal door wider.

Feeling a little dazed, I follow the gorgeous mess that stopped my heart the moment she opened the door and looked at me. Those dazzling eyes framed with long eyelashes that reach for the sky hypnotized me. The entire package is different from anyone I’ve ever seen before. There’s something about her that . . . I don’t know.

The short flight of stairs takes us to another light-blue door. As Thea opens it, the sound of instrumental music and nature sounds from her small apartment reaches me. The crowded space fits one bed, a table, an old brown sofa, plastic containers, and lots of bookshelves filled with books, crafts, and plastic boxes. The table has tools on top, cords, charms, and colorful yarns. A penetrating aroma of incense burns for a couple of breaths before I get used to it.

“You’re working on making jewelry this late at night?” Matt asks when we reach the apartment. She stares at the bracelets she wears on her arms, nods, and smiles. “Nice. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, behind the only door in this apartment.” She looks around the unmade bed, and scrunches her face. “Sorry for the mess, but it’s been a busy week.”

Matt doesn’t say a word and he disappears through the small door.

“So, you two are . . . an item?” she asks, biting her lip, and instinctively I growl a no. “Sorry, about . . . assuming that you and . . .” She bites her lip. “He . . .”

I guess she knows Matthew’s sexual preferences.

“No worries, I get it. Matthew doesn’t have many filters.” I walk over to the table and start admiring a crocheted flower and checking the drawings on the sketchpad. Then casually say, “Though, I am bisexual. In case you’re wondering.”

What the fuck did I just say?

My gaze lifts and meets hers. I’ve no fucking idea where that comes from or why I want her to know. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever actually admitted it out loud.

“Yeah, no filters. If you only knew the things I know about him.” She gives me a coy smile and heads to the kitchen. I follow behind, wanting to know more about him, about her. Questions pop inside my head. Like, why is there a magnetic pull between the two of us? Or, am I only imagining it? “There aren’t many like Matt. It takes a lot of courage to embrace who you are and to be open and free.”

Is she talking about me, or her? That surprises me. She looks like a free spirit, someone who wouldn’t care about what the rest of the world thinks about her or what she does. Her eyes flicker, her shoulders sag, and I believe I’ve found vulnerability within that happy armor she wears. Someone who’s fragile, breakable.

“Y
ou’ve been too quiet since yesterday.” I slide down the chair while drinking my coffee. Last night Tristan went to the Silver Moon to assess the place. It took several calls at different times until he agreed to meet me there. Tristan watched the operation from one of the far tables from the bar. According to Thea, he arrived early and only drank a couple of whiskey sours. We spoke with Reed, although it felt like Tristan had interrogated him about the bar. Since we left the bar, he hasn’t said much. “If you don’t want to buy it that’s understandable.” Tristan finally meets my gaze as he tilts his head. His wet strands of hair move to the left. “How about you train me?”

His dark gaze locks on mine. “How do you make your business decisions, Matt?” He chuckles. “I can only guess they are out of impulse. That’s not me. I like to do my homework before I invest my money. I don’t jump into something without knowing the risks. It’s a terrible approach.”

“Meaning?”

“I want to buy the bar, but I have to study the place. Maybe we can be partners.” He places his tablet on top of the table and takes a drink of his coffee, then gives me his full attention. “I’m making a business plan, assessing the risks and . . . I’ll let you know what I conclude when I’m done with it. Also, there’re a few issues I’m handling back in California. Then I have Thrice to think about. I doubt I’ll be able to give Reed a hand while he decides to sell. How about you, can you be at the Silver Moon?”

“Yes. I can be at the Silver Moon every other week and every weekend,” I tell him, while I sigh with relief that he hasn’t been avoiding me, but just been busy. “If I have questions he’s there. Maybe Thea can teach me more about her job. You can swing by whenever.”

He nods, finishes his coffee, and lifts his tablet from the table.

“What’s her story? Thea’s? I noticed you were very interested in her.” His eyes are glued to the tablet, so I don’t know what the question means. Is he jealous? Maybe interested in my butterfly? I noticed the glances they gave to each other at the bar and while we visited Thea in her apartment. “I don’t know her, but how about this time you follow my rule and don’t mix pleasure with business?”

“Is this because you want her to be part of Silver Moon after we buy it,” I push down his tablet and hold his chin between my fingers, “or because I noticed you were very interested in her?” I copy his words.

“I don’t know her well, but my gut tells me that she needs more than a horny man to jerk her around,” he says, moving his chin away from my hold. “If you decide to make a move, be the guy I know you can be.”

“I like her,” I state, because I do. I’m attracted, yes, but I don’t think I’d take that attraction any further from what I do now. Innocent flirting and a few stolen caresses. Last night, the sight of her without the uniform threw me off balance. Usually I see her with that ugly polo shirt and the cap. The loose hair and bare skin I saw stirred my entire body, but then I remembered that she’s a good friend, and trying to change our relationship from platonic to physical will jeopardize what we have. “I wouldn’t initiate anything with her unless I was serious, and we know I’m not the serious kind. She's strong but fragile. I couldn't take care of her the way she deserves.”

“You could,” Tristan utters rising from his seat. “You're caring, sweet, and protective.” He brushes my lips with his.
Fuck, I’ve missed his lips.
“I'm taking a shower and heading to Thrice. Call when you're in California. We can discuss the bar and catch up with whatever Reed decides.”

“I'll call you, because I miss you too,” I say loud enough so he can hear me. Tristan doesn't come back or acknowledge me. Which is for the best. That peck made me want to offer him a quickie, but I know what happens to Tristan when he's sleeping around—with men. I’d rather miss our sexual relationship—and I do—than have him drunk and lost. Caring for drunks or anyone intoxicated isn't fun. I did that a lot for my brother, and it's not a route I'm willing to take ever. I respect and admire my parents, but I doubt I could abstain from alcohol like Gabe does because Chris is a recovering drunk. Maybe I'd have to be in love to even contemplate that.

Tristan enters the kitchen and says, “I didn’t say that I miss you, but some days I do.” I grin at him and blow him a kiss to make him squirm. “Breakfast at four in the morning isn’t the same without you.”

“I know,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Instead of saying goodbye, you should stay over for the weekend. Have fun with the butterfly and me while we work at the bar.”

“I’ll think about it.” He salutes me and leaves again.

Sitting at the breakfast table, I grin. Maybe things between us will never work, but now he has a different concept of who I am. Instead of the obnoxious brother of his business partner, I'm now a friend and a potential partner too. I call that a win-win situation. I browse through the news on my phone while finishing breakfast and place the dirty dishes in the sink when I'm done. Heading to take a shower, I plan the rest of the day, including going to the Silver Moon. Thursday is busier at the bar. I have to beat the crowd in order to talk to Thea about editing the Nix books. I need to hire a new editor soon, and the faster I convince her, the better for both of us. She needs the money, and I need the help.

I clean my forehead. Working at a bar for six hours is as exhausting as working out at a gym for two. The Thursday night crowd doubled from yesterday. My fault, according to Thea. MJ Decker at the Silver Moon trended all night through several social media engines. By eight o’clock we closed the doors and called Mason to send extra security details. Even after we shut the doors, a long line of patrons stood outside the venue waiting for hours to be let in. All for their turn to be close to one of the famous Decker triplets. Reed loved the attention, and was happier once Tristan arrived to help him wait the tables.

“Here,” Tristan handed Thea a wad of bills, “your cut of the night.” Thea frowns at him and doesn’t accept it. “That’s what we do at my places. The waiters have to give a cut to the bartender.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, handing me over an envelope.

“What is this?” I ask as I go through the bunch of cash inside.

“Tips,” she says with a whispery voice. “Thanks to you we made almost a thousand dollars in only one night.”

I take the wad Tristan was handing her, place it inside and hand it back to her. “Keep it. You're the one that busted her ass all night.” I take off her cap and watch her hair fall down as I untie it. “Better. I like you that way.” She serves me with an eye-roll that makes me want to kiss her, but I don’t. “Reed has to hire someone else. Next week I can’t be here until Friday.” Then I look at Tristan. “You?”

“I can stay until Sunday morning. If I move some shit around, I might be able to fly back Tuesday evening.” Tristan pulls out his phone and taps it several times. “Then return to California on Friday when you’re back. Will that work for you?”