Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(24)

I sighed and shrugged. This was about the fifth time she’d voiced her opinions about the date Brandt and Sarah had picked for their ceremony.

“I mean, New Year’s Day, okay, I can see the point there. But the eighth? Why?”

I didn’t have an answer, and honestly, I didn’t care. I was just happy this meant Brandt would now be gone from work on his honeymoon and away from the bar for the next week. I think he’d mentioned they would return a day or two before college classes resumed for the new semester, where he was going to begin his graduate program in physical therapy. To me, though, what it really meant was a weeklong reprieve where Colton would have no reason whatsoever to stop by the club.

Thank God.





Five hours later, my jaw dropped and I whispered, “What the f*ck?” as Colton stepped inside the Forbidden Nightclub.

Behind the bar where I’d been in the middle of mixing a Tom Collins, I immediately dropped down onto my haunches so I could hide behind the counter. But I realized what a cowardly idiot I must look like right about the time Bob, my coworker, arched me a questioning glance.

“I…I spilled some, er, ice,” I fumbled out lamely, my face heating with shame.

What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t hide down here. Besides, I was a bold, confident woman—or, you know, at least that was the goal—I could f*cking face the guy I had totally wronged.

Pushing to my feet, I brushed my bangs out of my eyes, straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat before daring to move my gaze his way. But as soon as I took him in, everything inside me started clanging wildly out of control. As nervous as I was about his reaction to last night’s…uh, events between us, I couldn’t seem to stop the memories from tumbling through my brain. They heated my insides and made me feel flushed and breathless.

He approached the bar with a lazy kind of grace, and my stomach flipped madly while my toes began to curl. He walked with the same slow, talented swagger as he had when he’d backed me up onto the table and slid his hand inside my dress.

“Hey, Colton,” Bob greeted him with a head nod. “Awesome wedding last night.”

I swerved my coworker a startled glance. I hadn’t known Bob had been there. His name card had been at my table, yet I hadn’t even spotted him.

Nice of him to leave me stranded by myself at our table.

Asshole.

“Yep,” Colton answered, his voice sending this buzz of complete awareness through me. Compelled to turn back his way, I watched him point toward the opening of the hall that led into the back. “Pick around tonight?”

“Sure is,” Bob answered. “Go on back.”

“Thanks,” Colton murmured and headed that way.

We all knew Brandt and his family were in tight with the club’s big bossman, so it wasn’t surprising at all that Colton would want to see Pick. But as soon as he disappeared out of sight, one glaring fact struck me like a stinging slap right across the face.

He had completely ignored me.

Colton Gamble had never once in the nine months we’d known each other ignored me. He’d always taken the time to pay me special attention, flash me a flirty grin, try to charm some piece of clothing off me, ask me out, name our future children. And I’d always shrugged him off as annoying, too cocky for his own good, and over-the-top ridiculous.

But to be denied his attention so abruptly made the lack of it feel very dark, and very cold, and utterly lonely.

Hell, I would’ve preferred it if he’d glared at me and called me a worthless bitch to my face. Anything had to be better than a direct cut because this freaking hurt. I felt hollowed out and empty, which made another startling fact occur to me.

I could no longer deny it; I had secretly liked his cheesy flirting the entire time. And I mean liked it, liked it.

I think I might’ve even liked him.

Here I’d always thought it was anger and annoyance and distaste that roiled through me whenever I’d been forced to talk to Brandt’s little brother. But maybe that super-alive feeling he roused in me that made me want to claw at his face before climbing his body, pulling his hair and forcing him to kiss me was some kind of f*cked-up foreplay I was experiencing.

One thing was for sure: I’d never been able to focus on anyone but him when he’d been around.

Realizing I was attracted to him—and had always been attracted to him—in a super intense way kind of intimidated me. I didn’t want to like Colton like that. He wasn’t easy like Brandt. There was nothing calm or secure or careful about the way he affected me.

And those were not the kinds of feelings I’d constructed my entire life around.

So it should be a good thing he no longer wanted anything to do with me.

Except when the door to Pick’s office opened down the hall and voices emerged, I didn’t care about any of that. I held my breath, anxious to see him enter the bar again, needing him to acknowledge me.

“Thanks again,” Colton was saying, his voice sending delicious chills down my back.

“No problem,” Pick answered him. “Like I said, as long as it’s after hours and you put everything back where you found it, you can have free reign over the place.”

They exited the hall together, Pick setting his hand on Colton’s shoulder in a fatherly manner.

Colton glanced at him with a grateful smile. “We can do that, no problem. And we’ll make sure to get the Forbidden logo in every scene, too.”