Page 61 of Making It Burn

"The gym," I managed."I go to the gym.Play tennis.”

"Mmm.I can tell."Beverly's hand moved to my bicep, squeezing lightly."Very disciplined.I like that in a man."

Beau's glass hit the bar with more force than necessary."I need another drink."

Beverly glanced at him, then back at me, and something flickered in her expression.Her eyes narrowed slightly, tracking between us, and I watched as understanding dawned on her face.

"Oh," she said softly.Then louder, "Oh!"

"What?"I asked.

She stepped back, a slow smile spreading across her face."Well, this just got interesting."

"What got interesting?"Beau asked, his voice tight.

Beverly looked at him, really looked at him, taking in his rigid posture, the way his hand was clenched around his glass, the muscle jumping in his jaw.Then she looked at me, at the space between us that felt charged despite the foot of actual distance.

"You two," she said, delighted."You're not just colleagues who happen to have chemistry.You're colleagues who are fucking each other."

"Beverly—" I started.

"Don't even try to deny it.The tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife."She ordered another round of drinks from the bartender."This is perfect.Better than perfect."

"I don't know what you think you—" Beau began.

"Honey, I saw the way you looked when I touched Mason's arm.Like you wanted to bite my hand off."She handed him a fresh whiskey."And Mason?You've been staring at Beau's mouth for the last five minutes like it's your last meal."

I had not been staring at his mouth.Except I absolutely had been.

"So here's what's going to happen," Beverly continued, her eyes bright with mischief."You're both going to stop pretending.Because life's too short and New Orleans is too hot for this repressed bullshit."

"We're not repressed," I muttered.

"You color-code your file folders chronologically within each color category.You're the definition of repressed."She took a sip of her drink."But I can work with that."

"Work with what?"Beau asked warily.

Beverly's smile turned feline."Well, I came here tonight thinking I might take one of you home.Preferably Mason, because look at him—he's gorgeous and clearly wound tighter than a clock.I was going to offer to help him...unwind."

Heat crept up my neck.

"But now?"She looked between us."Now I'm thinking why settle for one when I could have both of you?"

I choked on my whiskey.Beau went very still beside me.

"Excuse me?"I managed.

"Both of you.My place.Or yours, I'm not picky."Beverly's expression was pure invitation."I'm very open-minded, and you're both extremely attractive.Plus, the tension between you two would make it incredibly hot."

"Beverly, we're not—" I started.

"Into women?I figured.But you are into each other, and that's even better."She leaned in, her voice dropping."Come on, boys.When's the last time either of you did something spontaneous?Something a little dangerous?"

"This is insane," Beau said, but his voice had gone rough.

"Is it?Or is it exactly what you both need?"Beverly's gaze was knowing."A night where you stop thinking about consequences and just feel something?"

The music shifted, something slower and heavier, and I could feel the bass in my chest.The whiskey was making everything feel loose, warm, possible.