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“I could teach you, young Padawan,” Steve teased.

“Not yet, but as of tomorrow evening, that might be a different story. So, anyway, Owen, what do you think Paige is up to?”

The abrupt change in topic threw Owen for a loop. One of their phones buzzed on the table and Brad scooped his up in a frantic rush. Owen would have done the same thing if it was his, hoping it might be Paige, but he’d shut his off entirely when they’d gotten to the bar. Everyone he knew and cared about was there. Well, everyone who cared about him, anyway.

“Everything okay?” Owen asked, when Brad set the phone back down on the table face-down.

Brad nodded.

“Speak of the devil,” was all he said.

“Mine or yours?” Owen wanted to know. Maybe he should have had his phone on.

“Paige. I’ll call her back tomorrow. She probably just wants to bitch, but you’ve got dibs there. So, what the hell happened?”

“Um, Jesus, I don’t know. She was fine when we woke up from a nap, then lost her mind when I questioned her about the papers I found. You called about three minutes after that, so I have no idea the headspace she’s in right now.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and switched it back on, just in case.

“So, she’s really out of here?” Brad asked.

“Seems that way. She hasn’t even unpacked; did you know that? Her suitcase is in the back of the closet, and she either repacked it all recently, or every time she does laundry she puts everything back. Shit, I’ve unpacked for week-long vacations. I don’t know what to think, or how much to care. I mean, has she ever had a serious relationship?”

Owen didn’t miss the look that passed between Steve and Brad.

“What?” he asked, moving to the edge of his seat.

“She has.” Brad leaned forward and Owen and Steve followed suit. “A real piece of work. Broke up last year, which is why she took off to Turks.”

“I hated that guy. Wanted to punch him in his perfectly groomed gonads,” Steve added.

Owen laughed, despite himself.

“A manscaper, huh?” he asked.

“A not-shy-about-his-body manscaper. How many times did we take that guy to the gym and find him naked at some point or another?” Steve asked. “I mean, I’ve met strippers who are naked less than that guy was.”

“I’m sure you have,” Brad chimed in, laughing.

The server came up behind them then, an embarrassed smile curling the corners of her lips. She dropped off the drinks in front of Steve, conveniently leaning over him so he had a perfect view down her low-cut blouse. He threw an exaggerated wink at the guys over her back and placed a hand on her hip.

“Let me help you with those,” he said, his voice thick and corny as hell. He pulled the shots off the tray, his hand planted like a flag. The man had game, Owen conceded. He’d have cleaned up in a uniform.

The server walked back to the bar looking wobbly. As soon as she was out of ear shot, the three men erupted into a fit of laughter.

“And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done. Wait till you see her tomorrow morning.” Steve bowed from his seat. “She’ll never be the same.”

Brad clapped his friend on the back, shaking his head.

“Anyway, let’s just say Paulo didn’t have that kind of swagger. He thought he did, which is how he got himself in trouble,” Brad said.

“The difference is I treat the women I take home with respect and honesty. I’m up-front with them about what it is and what it isn’t, and if there’s anyone else in the picture.”

“You’re a regular saint,” Brad joked, grabbing one of his shots.

“You joke, but I’ve never done anything like Paulo. Never would, either.”

“I’m guessing Paulo is the ex?” Owen asked, his curiosity piqued.