Page 18 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

RYDER

“Goddamn.”

Everyone knew Top Shelf kept Parker’s pockets stuffed, but they had to be overflowing for him to own this kind of property. And this was coming from me, who’d lived in luxury my whole life.

“Impressive, right?”

Trevor’s voice had me glancing down to my right, where he stood at my side wearing skintight jeans, his white puffy coat with a fur-trimmed hood, and boots that matched.

“I had no idea Parker was this loaded.”

Unlike my parents’ home, whose style could only be described as old-money ornate, Parker’s place had a fresh, modern style.

The foyer, where Trevor and I stood gawking, had at least a thirty-foot ceiling.

To our right, a wall of windows offered a gorgeous snowy view of his vast yard, while the left wall featured an enormous modern painting.

Music played somewhere in the background, though nothing like the loud beats we were used to at the club.

“Yeah, Top Shelf is his baby, but not his only source of income. He’s invested in multiple businesses in Boston.”

“Huh.” I cast him a sideways glance.

“What?” Trevor narrowed his lined eyes as he peered up at me.

“Nothing. You know a lot about the man, that’s all.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve been working for the man for a long time.”

It was more than that, and everyone who spent five seconds around Trevor and Parker knew it.

“How long?”

He sighed. “I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve been working for him since the day I turned twenty-one.”

My eyes nearly fell out of my head. “For real?”

He nodded, gnawing on his lower lip. “Yep, I waited tables at an Italian restaurant he owned before opening Top Shelf. He sold it about two years ago, wanting to focus more of his attention on the club.”

“And the whole time you’ve been obsessed with him?”

Sighing, Trevor nodded. “The whole time. Pathetic, right?”

“Nah.” Heartbreaking, maybe, but not pathetic. “Anything ever happen there?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Not a once. Parker is… complex.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I get that impression.” As I spoke, I unbuttoned the large buttons on my peacoat. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think your feelings are unreciprocated.”

He snorted. “You know, Ryder, that actually makes it ten times worse.” He shrugged out of his coat and cast me a sad smile.

Yeah. I could see that. Wanting someone so badly and knowing they wanted you but couldn’t or wouldn’t move forward for whatever reason had to feel like a daily knife to the heart.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Please forgive me.”

The newcomer jerked us out of our depressing conversation. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, wearing a perfectly pressed charcoal suit. His snowy white hair had a slight curl he’d tamed into a neat style atop his head.

“I’ll take your coats and take you to where Parker and his guests are enjoying drinks.”

“Thank you, James,” Trevor said as he handed over his jacket.

James, huh? Clearly, this wasn’t Trevor’s first time, probably not even his tenth, visiting Parker’s home.

“Yes, thank you,” I echoed as I draped my coat over his waiting arm.

“Follow me, please,” James said, turning.

I glanced down to find Trevor looking up at me with an amused grin. “So formal,” I whispered.

Nodding, he linked his arm through mine. “That’s Parker for you.”

We followed James down a hallway, where more impressive artwork filled the walls. It appeared my boss had an extensive collection of paintings.

“Do me a favor?” Trevor asked as we trailed a few feet behind James.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Lay off Alex tonight.” His eyes no longer sparkled at me—they’d gone serious and almost lethal.

“Whatever you think you know about Alex, whatever impressions he gave you when you guys were younger, they’re wrong.

He’s a good guy… the best, actually. Now, I happen to think he has the wrong idea about you, too, but make no mistake, my loyalty lies with Alex.

And if it comes down to choosing my allegiance, I’ll choose him.

I’d appreciate not having to do that, so like I said, lay off him tonight. ”

I’d wondered if Alex had spoken to anyone at work about our dislike of one another. I guess he had. My stomach twisted at Trevor’s fierce expression. He might be the smallest guy in the room, but he wasn’t the meekest.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Alex isn’t exactly open to the idea of a truce between us.”

Or a blow job. Damn, I wanted his lips on my cock.

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” He chuckled. “But I told you my loyalty lies with him, so you’re the one who gets my lecture.”

“Lucky me.”

He snorted.

“All right, I’ll be nice. You know, I don’t even hate the guy the way he hates me. He annoys the shit out of me, sure, but it’s mostly because he has a giant stick up his ass.”

“Here we are, gentlemen,” James said as we reached a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a sprawling landscape covered in snow.

“Thanks, James,” Trevor said before zeroing in on Parker, who sat alone in a beige armchair observing his guests. “Wish I had a giant stick in my ass,” he mumbled.

I choked out a laugh so loud that all six heads in the room swiveled our way.

“Hey, all.” Trevor wiggled his fingers as he slipped his arm from mine. “Miss me?” He practically bounced into the room and over to a plush beige couch. Gone was the man who’d threatened me, replaced by the Trevor we all knew and loved—the life of the party.

“You made it.” Parker rose from his spot and strode to where I now stood alone. “What can I get you to drink? I have it all.”

I glanced at the tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey. Johnnie Walker Blue.”

“Nice.” I rubbed my hands together. “One of those sounds perfect.”

“Follow me.” I accompanied him to the full bar which had a white marble top and an impressive liquor stock. It made sense he’d have the best of the best in his home, considering what he served in his club.

“Your place is amazing,” I said as he strode behind the bar. I stayed in front, bracing my hands on the stone top.

“Thank you.” With the confidence of a man who knew his worth, Parker grabbed the half-full bottle of Johnnie Walker and a crystal glass.

“I’ve lived here about three years now and never plan to move.

It’s my oasis.” After pouring me a double, he slid the tumbler my way.

“It’s taken me a while to perfect the décor, but I think I’m finally done.

Let me see if anyone wants a refill. I’ll be right back. ”

I turned and rested my back against the bar as he left me alone.

The first sip of whiskey went down as smoothly as you’d hope and had me grinning.

Damn, that was some good stuff. It would warm me from the inside and chase away any lingering chill from the winter air.

So would the sizable electric fireplace set into a stone wall on the other side of the room.

The only wall without windows, the fire glass gleamed like hundreds of sparkling diamonds.

Parker’s recreation room was dominated by two large couches and three posh chairs that managed to be contemporary and inviting.

A thick white rug covered the light wood floor beneath the couches—the kind you wanted to roll around on naked.

The incredible room also had a pool table, a foosball table, and what had to be a ninety-inch television with multiple gaming consoles.

No one would doubt a bachelor lived here, but one with class and a shitload of money—no bearskin rug, cheap beer, or Ikea furniture for Parker.

Even with the obvious luxury and high price tag of everything I’d seen so far in his home, he created a comfortable environment.

It was the kind of place I wanted to curl up in for hours and watch movies while enjoying the warmth of the fire.

My parents’ home, on the other hand, felt like a museum, even more so since I’d been away for a while. It had a cold, sterile vibe I’d always hated.

God, I needed to get my own place.

Parker hadn’t returned to the bar after a few minutes.

Instead, Trevor snagged him and dove into an animated story complete with gestures, jumping, and plenty of eye rolls.

I smirked at the visible difference in their personalities.

For his part, Parker remained stoic and expressionless as he listened, but I’d swear on a stack of Bibles, the heat in his eyes came from desire for Trevor instead of the fire or even the whiskey.

As I watched and tried to comprehend their dynamic, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A shiver ran down my spine, settling at the base in a tingle of awareness. If I believed in ghosts, I’d worry Parker had one who resided in his rec room.

But no, this feeling didn’t have a supernatural origin. Alex had arrived—no idea how I knew on instinct, but I did.

A glance to my right revealed my sixth sense had nailed it.

Alex stood at the entrance to the room with James, scanning as though hoping to find someone specific.

Or, more likely, hoping not to find me. He wore a hunter-green sweater that hugged his upper body, paired with dark, straight-legged jeans and winter boots like the rest of us.

The cold had turned the tip of his nose red, made more apparent against his paler skin and dark hair that was slightly mussed as though he’d been wearing a wool hat.

My pulse fluttered at the base of my throat. Swallowing did nothing to help.

How was it possible that Alex looked just as sexy with every inch of skin covered as he did working in a scrap of material at the club?

Of course, he wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either, probably because he’d yet to notice me.

While I wouldn’t describe his posture as relaxed—I don’t think he knew how to chill—he didn’t seem as tense as usual.

No pinch in his forehead, no narrowed eyes, and his facial muscles weren’t twitching as he clenched his jaw—none of his typical pissed-off tells.