Page 22 of Broken Brothers

“Just like that, huh?” she said.

“Just like that.”

She chuckled and squeezed my arm.

“You’re dangerous, Chance,” she said. “I shouldn’t even be out here right now.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer me, continuing forward.

“But I suppose for a man as entertaining and charming as you, I might as well go along for the ride and see what transpires.”

“Indeed,” I said, although I still had not left alone the fact that she had said that she shouldn’t be out here.

Maybe it was as simple as the fear of looking like there was a major conflict of interest. Maybe her father frequented this bar.Maybe it was even simpler than that—maybe she just had other obligations or promises that she was skipping.

But then, an idea took hold that I could not shake.

Maybe this was a repeat of ten years ago with Sarah Hill. Maybe she knew I was the adopted one in the family, and that while in the short run, my charm and wit worked wonders on her, in the long run, she would end up leaving me all the same.

“This seems like the kind of place the Hunts would own, wouldn’t you say?” she said.

I laughed. I did it partially in response to the ridiculousness of her question, and partially out of the fear that that statement confirmed my worst fear for why she was saying what she did.

Well, if that’s what it’s going to come to, then I might as well just get right to it.

“Nonsense, this place isn’t glamorous enough,” I said. “Although, maybe as the adopted black sheep in a family of white sheep, they’d secretly invest in it and have me run it.”

“Oh?” she said.

But her reply wasn’t in response to what I had said. I could see what it was—it was a surprise to me saying adopted.Just… be honest.

“Yeah, I was adopted into the Hunt family at about five years old from a foster home.”

I braced myself for the inevitable fallout. I knew it was coming. Layla would repeat what Sarah had done ten years prior, except I would have no hope for recovery as I had with Sarah. Nothing was going to happen that could give me hope after that.

“That’s very interesting.”

I was taken aback, not by her words but by her tone. She seemed… genuinely curious? Truly interested? Warm to the idea?

I looked at her and was pretty sure my facade of confidence had vanished in favor of shock. What in the hell had happened?

In any case, though, the tequila shots showed up at that moment, and I had what I needed.

“Not as interesting as you, madam,” I said, holding up my shot glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, Chance,” she said, her eyes narrowing on mine.

We clinked glasses, gulped out shots down, and then I immediately ordered another round.

“I thought you said we were only going to do one drink.”

“I thought I said it might also make you do more.”

“You’re lucky you’re right, you little bastard.”

I just laughed as she leaned against me. Slowly, two drinks turned into three, which turned into four, which became five. Her hands became much more aggressive and probing until, after the fifth drink, she said, “I wonder, Chance, what other deals you might have in store…”