Page 17 of Over and Above (Mount Hope #4)
Chapter Seventeen
Magnus
“Tell me about this tequila.” The twinky little tourist was into me. Not that I cared overly much, but it was a slow night, so I’d suffer his too-obvious attempts to make conversation.
“This is a blanco tequila with notes of citrus, white pepper, and flowers. You said you wanted something without as much burn, and this vintage is known for its delicate flavor.” I managed a slightly bored tone, happy to talk liquor but not wanting to encourage the younger guy overly much. He was probably thirty, so not a kid, but too young and too not-Eric to interest me. And no matter how many shots a week I served, tequila would always make me think of Eric first.
“Cute little town here.” The guy had dimples and an easy smile that matched his punny gamer T-shirt advertising another Space Villager release. “I’m just passing through on my way to the coast with some buddies for a retreat at Rainbow Cove next week. But I think I’ll have to return for ski season.”
“Already thinking of snow?” I teased lightly. The August heatwave had given way, as it always did, to the perfection of late summer in the Northwest. We were a week past Labor Day weekend, the height of fire season, which was blessedly mild this year, and I was absolutely not ready to prepare for winter.
“Mainly thinking about tonight and the king-size bed they upgraded me to at the hotel.”
And right as the guy delivered his latest flirty attempt, Eric walked in with a group of friends. Crap. I hoped he hadn’t heard the tourist. Not because I was feeling guilty but because it’d been a little awkward on the rare occasions Eric had come into The Heist since we’d started fooling around.
“The five of you?” I bustled out from behind the bar, grabbing menus for Eric, Sean, Percy, Tate, and Tennessee. Business usually dipped after Labor Day, which meant fewer servers per shift until the start of the holiday rush and then ski season. The trick was to treat Eric like any other friend who came in to eat—a warm smile, no lingering eye contact, no overly familiar chit-chat around others. I led the group to two four-tops, which were easy to push together. “This okay?”
“This works.” Despite his partner’s absence, Sean was in a jovial mood and answered, whereas Eric stayed stone-faced. “And we’ll be seven once Tony and Caleb join us.”
“Three guesses as to why they are late.” Percy snorted at his own joke. “And it’s been a year. You’d think the monkey sex phase would be long gone.”
I kept an impassive expression as I handed out menus, staying in the background as the group’s banter swirled around me. I knew all of them, but I also knew my role as a server and facilitator for their night out.
“Speak for yourself.” Tate rolled his eyes at Percy as Tennessee turned bright pink. “Some of us know how to keep it going.”
Keep it going. I couldn’t say as I had a ton of experience with that. Failed relationship with Flo notwithstanding, most of my flings had been exactly that—short-term, intense connections that burned themselves out in a season or less.
However, it had been well over a month since the start of my and Eric’s thing, and while our time together was sporadic, the spark showed zero signs of fizzling. In fact, I liked the friendship we’d settled into where, on the rare nights we were both free, we often watched movies together or met up for late-night food. I liked our stolen moments of privacy and how the friendship enriched any sexual connection.
“Drinks?” I suggested once everyone in the group was situated.
“Hey, Magnus.” Percy was a bit of a flirt, which never bugged me, but across the table, Eric stiffened as Percy gave me a very obvious once-over. “Surprise me with whatever the cocktail special is.”
“Will do.” I kept my tone professional as I moved around the table, taking orders until I reached Eric. Him, I granted a bit more smile. Not enough to raise speculation, but he deserved a little extra warmth. “You want a surprise too? It has tequila.”
“No.” Eric frowned. “Iced tea.”
“Come on, man.” Percy playfully gestured at Eric. “You can’t come out for a drink and not drink.”
“If the guy wants iced tea, let him.” Sean gave Percy a stern look, which I appreciated. “We don’t goad friends into drinking around here.”
“Fine. But if ever there were someone more in need of a shot…” Percy trailed off as Sean’s glare sharpened. He held up both hands. “Dropping it.”
“I’ll be back with your drinks.” I moved away from the table. I needed to stay in waitstaff mode, not get caught up in Eric’s bad mood. However, I couldn’t resist trying to cheer him up when I brought out the assortment of appetizers the group had ordered.
“What’s this?” Eric frowned at the order of potato balls I’d deliberately set in front of him.
“Kitchen accidentally made up an extra order of our newest potato dish. Thought you guys might like to try it.”
“Thanks.” His jaw was loaded-spring tight, and he didn’t look the least bit interested in sampling the offering, passing it along down the table.
As I moved away, Percy resumed his ribbing of Eric.
“You really need to lighten up. Impending grandparenthood has made you act old before your time.”
“Maybe I am old.” Eric huffed as he glanced toward the bar, where the tourist continued to nurse his third cocktail. Yeah, he’d observed the earlier flirting.
“Speaking of Grandpa Eric, how is Maren these days?” Ever the peacemaker, Sean used a more jovial tone than Percy. I busied myself wiping down nearby tables so I could listen in on Eric’s reply.
“Good.” Eric was, if anything, even more wooden with Sean. “The second trimester has been easier on her with less nausea.”
“Are they going to do a gender reveal party?” Tennessee looked up from playing with Tate’s hand to ask Eric. “Those seem to be absurdly popular these days.”
“I don’t think so.” Eric shrugged, wincing like the motion hurt, and I wanted to rub his shoulders in the worst way. “She doesn’t fill me in on much though.”
“Adult kids are the worst at small talk,” Sean chimed in, bringing the conversation to updates on Declan and Jonas and the continued work at their property outside of town. I drifted away to check on other patrons and my crew.
“So, what time do you close up?” the tourist asked when I returned to the bar. He wasn’t giving up easily. “Wanna walk me back to the hotel?”
And, naturally, the universe chose that second for Eric to stride by on his way to the restrooms.
“Nah. Sorry, mate.” I raised my voice slightly, hoping Eric would hear my reply. “I’ve had a long day and need to get home to my dogs.”
Which was the truth and exactly what happened. Shortly after Eric and his group of friends paid their tab and headed out, I closed the restaurant for the night and took myself home to where Ben and Jerry were waiting at the carriage house. Despite having access to the dog run and frequent visits to the main house, they acted like they’d been cooped up for years.
I took them for a short walk only to find Eric lingering near the carriage house door when I returned.
“Fancy meeting you here.” I gave him a smile. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” Eric sure didn’t look fine—weary eyes but restless energy and more of that earlier grumpiness pinching his expression. “House feels too damn empty. Maren must have gone to sleep early again. Wren is on a school trip to Seattle for a science expo. John’s spending the night at Elliot’s to review game footage before Friday’s first home game.”
“Want to come in?” I opened my door.
“No. Yes.” Eric shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Fuck. I came to apologize for being short earlier.”
“It’s okay.” I patted his shoulder, taking the opportunity to direct us into the carriage house along with the dogs. “You’re allowed a bad mood.”
“It wasn’t a bad mood,” Eric lied.
“Oh?” I gave him a pointed stare.
“Fine.” He flopped onto the loveseat near the stairs to the loft. “That tourist was trying hard to get you to hook up.”
“Yep,” I agreed easily, leaning against the narrow wooden loft stairs rather than squeezing myself next to Eric. “But I turned him down.”
He made a frustrated noise. “You didn’t have to.”
“You wanted me to say yes?” I peered down at him, trying to suss out whether this was a new sharing kink, indifference, or more lying.
“No.” He groaned. “That’s why I was in a bad mood. We’re friends with a no-strings fling. I have no right to tell you not to flirt with tourists or Percy.”
“Definitely not going there with Percy either.” I pitched my voice to be more reassuring. “And if you’re upset because you think I’m fooling around without you, I’m not.”
“But you could.” Eric tipped his head back against the loveseat, reminding me of how damn good he looked climaxing. No way was I interested in any other flavor than him. “And maybe you should. We’re not exclusive.”
“We could be,” I countered. “If you want us to be exclusive, just ask.”
“I don’t have the right.” He scrubbed at his short hair.
“Sure you do.” I hadn’t done the agreeing to exclusivity thing for a long time.
“Can you even have no strings or friends with benefits and be exclusive? Wouldn’t that make it… more ?” Eric’s pained expression made it clear more would be on par with a root canal in terms of fun.
“Doesn’t have to.” Unlike him, I didn’t have a ton of experience in more serious relationships and even less confidence that I could make one work with Eric. This right here was easy and good and worth keeping going. “And like I said, I’m not dipping my wick elsewhere as it is. If exclusive feels right to us both, why overanalyze it?”
“Indeed.” Sitting forward, Eric gave a sharp nod. “Thank you.”
“How about we move on to the better question of how you’re spending your kid-free night?” Leering at him, I stalked to the loveseat, giving him a long, thorough once-over.
“I should let you sleep…” Eric made zero moves to leave the loveseat.
“What you should do is let me finally make good on that promise to fuck you through the loft.”
He gave an audible gulp. “Please.”