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“You’re too good for him,” Greyson said with a shake of his head, those dark eyes burning into mine.

“You don’t know him.” I was pulled into the intensity of his stare, unable to form a thought past how good he smelled right now. Like leather, whiskey and cedar.

“Don’t need to know shit about him, I know you…” his words trailed and he looked toward the bartender finally getting around to his drink. I knew it was his because it was the same thing he drank at home.

Home.

That was the second time tonight I’d slipped up and had that thought. But was my home really separate from where Greyson and Noah were? It didn’t feel like it. Not anymore.

“Man, fuck him?—”

“I’m trying to!” I blurted, my frustration with this night and the embarrassment from him seeing me on this disaster of a date bubbling to the surface. If possible, my hissing whisper grew even quieter. “That’s the whole point of me going on dates, Greyson. I wanna get laid. It’s been a really, really long time.”

He must have heard the mortification in my voice because something on his face softened while he looked me over, this time not as intensely.

“Fine. Then I’ll fuck you.”

“What makes you think you’re my type?”

Greyson smirked and I screamed internally at how much more attractive he got from the slightest quirk of his lips. It wasn’t fair. “Come on, Red. You can lie to yourself, just don’t do it to me.”

I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. He wasn’t getting it. He wasintentionallynot getting it. “You can’t just answer every problem I give you by turning it around like that. I’m not gonna fuck you just for the hell of it so you can prove a point, Greyson.”

“I promise when I fuck you, it won’t be for the hell of it, True.”

Neither of us got a chance to fill the tense silence between us.

“Whiskey neat,” the bartender announced, setting the glass down with a quiet thump against the mahogany bar.

Before Greyson could reach for it, I scooped the glass in my hand and tossed half of it down my throat, savoring the burn. Oh my god, I needed that.

I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until I popped them open and found Greyson’s staring at me, a touch of wickedness in his onyx orbs.

When I set the tumbler back on the bar, he eyed it before picking it up and studying the lipstick stain I’d left on the rim. Then he raised it to his mouth and positioned his lips exactly where mine had been, finishing the rest of the amber liquid in one languid pull.

Heat simmered under my skin and my heart skipped a couple beats in my chest before coming back online just in time for Keenan to approach us.

“Who’s this?” he asked, a bushy brow raised as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

My eyes slammed shut. I could not deal with this right now.

Luckily, my neighbor looked like he was suddenly a social butterfly. He extended his hand toward my date and looked him up and down. “Greyson Wolfe.”

They made introductions while I counted down from ten. Then I opened my eyes and stared at them. It was hard not to draw comparisons when they were side by side.

There was Keenan in his striped suit and canary yellow Crocs. Then there was Greyson with his…everything.

Feeling my eyes on him, he turned and winked at me.

I shook my head. This was not happening.

“Who are you to True? You’re not her man, are you?” He threw his arm over my shoulders and never in my life had I wanted spikes to spontaneously spawn from a random part of my body like I did in that moment. “I’m willing to fight over this one.”

An unfamiliar sound bellowed out of Greyson. It was heady and warm. He was…laughing. I’d never heard this man laugh before. The most I got was a dry snort or scoff when I was in his presence.

And.

Oh.