Page 17

Chapter thirteen

I will waterboard you with your own beer

Zoe

I t’s a mistake to let Tamara buy the first round.

Not because she’s reckless. She’s meticulous, always weighing her options and making informed decisions.

No, it’s a mistake because Tamara knows things .

She pays attention. And the moment she slides a whiskey sour in front of me and smirks like the Cheshire fucking Cat, I know I’m about to get grilled.

A lazy energy hums through The Rink Rat with a pulse of low laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint static of a hockey game playing on a shitty TV.

It’s not the kind of place that caters to high-profile athletes, which is exactly why we all keep coming back.

That, and for the gold star hosting from Gary, who gives exactly zero shits about hurting anyone’s feelings.

Tamara rests her chin in her hand as she leans in, considering me. “So… When were you going to tell us?”

Across from me, Charlie huffs out a laugh, lifting her lemonade with a little smirk. “She’s been having so much hot sex with a younger man, it slipped her mind.”

I kick her under the table.

Charlie doesn’t so much as flinch, just grins serenely over the rim of her glass, pleased with her part to play in this absolute fucking circus. Traitor.

Tamara hums thoughtfully. “Oh, of course. Hot sex with the very same younger man you swore you’d rather set on fire than breathe the same air as.”

“Can we please stop referring to him as a younger man ?!”

“He is, though. You’re basically a cougar.”

Charlie purses her lips as if this conversation requires thoughtful acknowledgement. “Is five years considered cougar territory?”

“It’s four and a half!” I know I sound hysterical, but those six months matter, damn it.

Lulu, who has been dragged along to this interrogation by her new sister-in-law, approaches from the women’s bathroom and slides in next to Tamara. “Oh! Are we talking about Zoe’s boyfriend?” She claps her hands together, delighted. “Fun.”

“This is ridiculous,” I groan, dragging a hand through my hair.

Tamara's eyes narrow. “Are you really dating him?”

I open my mouth. Close it. Then turn to Charlie, who is supposed to be on my side but just continues to sip her drink with wide, innocent eyes.

I hate everyone at this table.

“No, really, I’m fascinated,” Tamara continues, lightly stroking her chin as she considers her verdict. “One second you’re actively plotting his demise, and the next you’re smiling about the fact he could grab your ass in broad daylight! Zoe, come on. You expect me to believe this?”

Summoning every ounce of PR professionalism I have, the best retort I come out with is a meager, “Things… changed.”

“Changed how?”

I inhale sharply, hating that Chase and I agreed on this explanation, and hating even more that it’s based on a fact I’m trying to forget.

“At your wedding.”

Tamara blinks. “Excuse me?”

Charlie snickers, completely unaware that the one-night stand was real, thinking she’s just playing along with the act.

I choose my words carefully. “It just… shifted things. We, uh, we started spending more time together, and it kind of just happened.”

Tamara squints, her mind turning and fitting pieces together, still not entirely buying it.

“So, you’re telling me this one single event—even though I agree, it was obviously the best day ever—made you reevaluate every feeling you’ve ever had about Chase Walton, and instead of strangling him, you decided to date him? Just like that?”

“Yup! Just like that.”

Lulu nods, stirring her drink absently. “I mean, statistically, if you’re going to fall in love with someone, a wedding is a solid setting for it.”

Tamara shoots her a look, and Charlie presses her lips together to keep from laughing, while cold panic rises in me.

“Who said anything about love ?”

Lulu shrugs and sips her drink with a smile.

Before Tamara can launch into round two of her interrogation, Gary appears at the end of the table, balancing a tray of drinks and wearing his usual unimpressed expression.

He sets another lemonade down in front of Charlie, a vodka soda in front of Tamara, and something obnoxiously pink in front of Lulu, all the while muttering about not being a damn cocktail bar.

Then he looks at me with a disdainful frown, sets down a shot of tequila, and slides a single lime wedge next to it like an insult.

“On the house,” he grunts.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “Why? You don’t give anything away for free.”

Gary shrugs. “Just figured you might need a little liquid courage, given the situation.”

“What situation ?”

He crosses his arms. “The one where that Walton kid called just now and asked me to order another whiskey sour for his girlfriend. ”

I lurch forward and put my head in my hands, shaking it slowly from side to side. “No. No, no, no…”

Charlie points at the shot, then back at Gary. “Then why the tequila?”

“Because a man pre-ordering a woman her favorite drink is sweet, but a woman needing a drink when she realizes what that means? That’s tequila territory.”

I groan. “This is not tequila territory, Gary.”

Gary lifts a brow. “Kid, your whole damn life is tequila territory.”

Lulu stirs her pink drink, then glances up at me with a completely straight face. “I think he’s suggesting that your life choices are a little questionable.”

“They’re not questionable !”

“Coulda fooled me.” Gary snorts and then turns back to the bar, grumbling as he goes.

Charlie pats my arm like she’s soothing a grenade. “You should take the shot, Zo.”

With a sigh, I grab the glass and lift it to my lips, holding my breath so I don’t have to smell it. The tequila hits my tongue like a thousand tiny razor blades, burning its way down my throat.

I wince, grabbing the lime to soothe the assault.

While the tequila shot burns a hole down to my stomach, the front door swings open, letting in a gust of cold air, the scent of overpriced cologne, and a big fucking problem called Chase Walton.

I try to stop my eyes from darting down to his crotch, but fail, noting the way he’s so clearly free-balling it for all to see. He catches my eye and smirks, then heads straight for me.

Behind him, Logan and Eli are talking animatedly about something they probably shouldn’t be, while Reid already looks like he wants to leave.

Jake makes a beeline for Charlie, because the man who has no chill whatsoever.

She barely has time to turn in her seat before he’s there, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and murmuring something against her ear that makes her flush.

Logan leans against the booth next to Lulu, shaking his head as he clocks the interaction. “Jesus, Brooks. At least pretend to be cool.”

Jake doesn’t even acknowledge him, eyes locked on Charlie as he softly brushes her hair back.

I roll my eyes. “Jake, do you need a moment?”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, still smiling as he rests a hand on her bump.

I feel the booth dip next to me and turn to see Chase sliding in next to me. I immediately shift away. He immediately slides closer.

I glare, keeping my voice low. “You are violating so many personal space boundaries right now.”

He ignores the comment, nudging me with his knee as he leans in and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, Zo Face.”

My entire body goes rigid, and I turn to him slowly.

“If you ever call me that again, I will waterboard you with your own beer.”

Chase just sighs happily. “God, I love our relationship.”

Tamara outright snorts. “Right, your relationship …”

“Oh my god, can we not —”

“Okay, prove it,” says Jake, lifting his chin in challenge before kissing Charlie's forehead.

“Prove what?”

“Your relationship. Give us something convincing.”

I feel my knee being nudged again as Chase gestures at Jake. “See? We should do more PDA. People love that shit.”

“If you even think about kissing my forehead right now, I’ll decapitate you.”

Chase grins. “That’s my girl.”

“Come on, we need to see something ,” Eli says.

Charlie chuckles and sips lemonade. “We could make it a test.”

“Absolutely not,” I snap, because this is spiraling fast.

But Chase is already moving. He shifts closer in the booth, and before I can stop him, his hand lifts, fingers brushing a strand of hair off my cheek.

He tucks it behind my ear slowly, dragging the moment out, but it’s the way his thumb lingers that wrecks me.

A barely-there stroke against the skin just behind my ear. My pulse point.

It’s the exact same move he made that night. Afterwards, when we were lying in bed. When everything had gone quiet and tender and terrifying. My pulse slams against his fingertip like it recognizes him, like it remembers.

His voice dips low, only for me. “Still my favorite spot.”

“Careful, Walton,” I murmur, tilting my head so we’re almost eye to eye. “You keep touching me like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He grins and leans in, but before he can respond, Tamara lets out a loud ahem across the table. “Wow, okay. Do we need to give you two a minute?”

Charlie shrugs a shoulder with a knowing smile. “I’d say get a room, but apparently one wedding suite was enough.”

Lulu hums. “We’re definitely not the target audience for that level of PDA.”

I sit back fast, yanking away from Chase like I’ve been burned. But he just stretches an arm across the back of the booth and smirks, fingers grazing my shoulder like he hasn’t just lit my nervous system on fire.

The conversation shifts as someone says something about Gary’s jukebox being stuck in the early 2000s, and Logan launches into a passionate defense of Nickelback. But I don’t hear a word of it.

Instead, I lean toward Chase, just enough to murmur, “You’re not slick, you know.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even look at me.

“No,” he says quietly, voice like smoke, “but I know you are.”