message again.”
Rose’s face lights up as Logan passes her his phone. She and Jasmin bend their heads over the screen.
“She’s definitely flirting.”
“Absolutely. You should flirt back,” Jasmin agrees, and the two of them break into giggles.
I lean back in my chair, a smile playing on my lips as they chat and laugh at things. It’s so good to see Jasmin happy again. Seeing her here like this with Rose, it makes my chest swell with pride and relief that she can still smile the way I always remembered. I haven’t seen it in a while. Maybe Rose’s arrival is what’s brought it on.
“You can’t put that!” Rose gasps as Jasmin types something into Logan’s phone.
He grabs it, and his brows shoot up his forehead. The girls shriek with laughter at his reaction.
“You”—he points his phone at them both—“are both filthy.”
“Me? It was all her.” Rose’s cheeks flush.
“How much did you put on the bar tab?” Logan says with a smirk, leaning across the table.
My shoulders vibrate as I laugh softly. It’s the first work night out I’ve taken the entire team on since I got out over six months ago. It’s long overdue, and judging by the merry faces filling the restaurant and bar we’ve overtaken in town; it’s appreciated.
Logan winces as one of the warehouse guys down the other end of our table sings loudly.
“I used to like this song. Now my ears will bleed whenever I hear it.”
I chuckle, rubbing my thumb over my lips as Jasmin and Rose head over to the small dance floor by the back of the large space.
“She’s got some moves.” Logan watches Rose as she circles her hips in time to the music while wearing another short dress that shows off her long legs.
He turns when I don’t respond.
“Don’t,” I grunt before he opens his mouth.
He holds his hands up. “I said nothing.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Only… When was the last time you went on a date or—”
“Fuck off.”
He smirks into his drink as he drains his glass. “I’m just saying.”
I swirl the deep amber liquid around in my glass. It’s top shelf brandy. It’s hitting the spot for now. But when you run your own distillery, you get kind of picky. At least, that’s what I’m putting the creeping sourness over my tongue down to.
“Yeah? Well, don’t.” I would tell him he knows why I cannot get involved with Rose—or anyone even if I wanted to. But I can’t say that. Because he doesn’t know why. No one does. And that’s the way it’s got to be. This job is too dangerous already. I can’t get caught and lose my life. I already lost some of it three years ago.
“Who were the girls texting on your phone? The same woman you told me about? From the dating app?” I ask, steering the conversation away from my dick and onto Logan’s instead.
“Yeah. Cherry 69.”
I snort as I drain the rest of my glass, grateful for the distraction. Logan has been using this dating app for months now, thinking he has exhausted Surrey’s pick of eligible women to date. And now he’s casting the net wider. The bastard gets loads of matches, too. He’s a good-looking fucker with a certain charm about him, I guess. And he knows it. He’s never had problems picking up women the entire time I’ve known him.
“She’s probably some hairy biker from Glasgow.”
He screws his face up before pointing at me. “No. She’s a nimble twenty-one-year-old yoga instructor from London. Look.”
He thrusts his phone into my face, and a new picture of the woman he’s shown me before fills the screen.
“No way is she a yoga instructor with tits like that.”
I chuckle as Logan turns the screen back around, hearts practically appearing in his eyes. He’s a tits man, no doubt about it. You could stick a nipple on anything, and he’d be circling it, panting and whining like a puppy.
“Isn’t that discriminatory to yoga instructors?”
“Logan, those tits are photoshopped. I’m telling you. If they were real, they’d be declared a country and would need their own border control. No way can she walk, let alone do a downward dog.”
He frowns at the image, tilting the screen. “Fuck. You’re right.” He throws the phone down on the table and stretches his hands behind his head. “Back to square one.”
“I think you need another drink.” I laugh as I stand, following Logan’s gaze to the dance floor. Jasmin and Rose are holding hands, dancing, heads thrown back, singing with their eyes closed.
I head over to the bar and order two more brandies, keeping my gaze firmly locked on the girls. The song ends and moves into another one I know Jasmin hates. She waves a dismissive hand in the air and then pulls Rose over to the bar, slamming into it on unsteady feet next to me.
“Hey, brother.” She giggles and then orders two waters, fanning herself with one hand.
“All right, sis? Just water now, yeah?”
She rolls her eyes, turning to whisper to Rose, although she’s tipsy and her whispering voice is even louder than her regular one. “Are all brothers such party-poopers?”
My eyes meet Rose’s. She expertly hides most of her flinch at the mention of brothers. But not all of it. For a brief second, something flashes in her eyes. Something so raw my gut twists in response. It’s gone almost as soon as it appears.
“Ugh. Really?” Jasmin sighs as the DJ plays another song by the same artist. “That’s it. I’m not dancing to this all night.” She knocks back her water and slams it back down onto the bar. “I’ll be back.” She strides off toward the DJ booth.
Rose whips her head around after her, losing her balance and swaying into me.
“Sorry.”
I clasp her upper arms, steadying her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” she breathes, looking up at me.
Her pupils are dilated from the alcohol and her cheeks are flushed a warm pink. Her usually wavy blonde hair is straight tonight, reaching almost as far as her tiny waist. I gaze at her pouty pink lips and brush some loose strands of hair away from her eyes. She’s like a doll. A delicate, porcelain doll. One I could break far too easily.
“Only water for you now, too.”
Her brow wrinkles, and she opens her mouth—
My phone rings in my pocket, cutting off whatever it is she’s about to say.
I pull it out. Marcus. Fuck’s sake, what’s wrong now? This is an easy job—shifting some product to the next county. Wait until we get onto the big stuff, like the international shipments. He needs to get his big boy pants on if he thinks this is the life for him.
“I’ve got to take this,” I say.
She nods at me, turning back to her water, and I head outside.
“What is it?” I snap.
“I… um…” Marcus sniffs.
I clench my teeth.
“Spit it the fuck out,” I hiss.
“Some guys came by. Two of them. Big ugly fuckers. They knew Mr. Young.”
Mr. Young.
Fuck. Him sending someone to sniff around a small job like this is not a good sign.
“I’ll be right there.”
