Zach grew more insistent. “You don’t have to drink it all night. You just have to down one of them.”
“No.” The more he pushed, the more I was going to dig my heels in. “I can’t drink that and still be a man.”
The incredulous look Zach shot me had me forcing myself to keep a straight face. In truth, I just didn’t want … whatever was in that cup. I had my sights set on cognac. The older I got, the less I could handle the amount of sugar in some of the cocktails that made their way up and down the Strip.
“It’s a cocktail,” Zach snapped. He took an exaggerated sip of the pink concoction. “Look. I’m still a man.” He gestured toward his crotch.
I managed to keep a straight face, although it took effort. “I think I’m going to need you to prove that.”
Zach shoved my arm, then he burst out laughing before downing the rest of the drink. I didn’t miss the way his nose wrinkled. “That’s foul,” he said as he put the glass on the bar. “You’re my witness that I drank one when your sister asks.”
“What’s in it?” I was curious despite myself.
“Vodka, champagne, strawberry flavoring, grenadine, and a dash of 7UP.”
I was officially appalled. “Dude.”
“I know.” Zach wrinkled his nose again, then he grinned. “It has a nice lingering aftertaste. It’s sweet. Just like your sister.”
I flicked his ear. “Don’t be gross about my sister. I don’t like it.”
“Your sister is my wife. I have no choice but to be gross about her.”
“Oh, you have a choice. You just willingly surrendered your man card for some ungodly reason and pretended otherwise. I don’t even understand why you would do it. The fact that you’re so happy about it is dumbfounding to me.”
Zach merely shrugged. “Sometimes people fit together in ways you don’t expect.”
“Don’t talk about having sex with my sister.” I was firm on that. “I said I accepted your relationship with her. Sex talk is a bridge too far, though.”
“I wasn’t talking about sex.” Zach’s expression turned dark. “I was talking about the other stuff.”
“What other stuff is there?”
“You know … like feelings and emotions.”
I waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, all I could do was shake my head. “I don’t even know what happened to you. It’s utterly disgusting, though.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Zach led me to a small corner booth. A server in a skimpy outfit immediately popped up. “Can I get you gentlemen something?” she asked, her lascivious gaze bouncing between us.
This was not a new development. Zach and I had been going to the bar together for as long as I could remember. Wherever we went, the women followed … and flirted. Some of them recognized Zach. He came from one of the wealthiest families in Vegas, which was saying something. Some of the attention I got was simply because they assumed I was important because I was with Zach. Other bits and pieces of attention erupted simply because of the way I carried myself. I wasn’t dumb enough not to realize that most of the attention I garnered was because of my looks.
I wasn’t an overly deep man. Like … I didn’t spend the bulk of my time reading poetry, drinking cappuccinos, and thinking about my inner man child. I wasn’t nearly as shallow as some people assumed either. Was I bothered that my looks were what I was known for? Yes. Well, sometimes. Okay, not as often as I probably should have been bothered. Did that stop me from using my looks to get dates? Not even a little.
I’d always thought Zach would be like me, a consummate bachelor until he was forty and then he would settle down with a younger woman and have kids. That was the dream when we were growing up. Now, suddenly, he was thirty-three and utterly devoted to my baby sister. They weren’t talking about kids just yet, but I knew they were coming.
Was I annoyed with my sister for stealing my best friend? Yes, and I was man enough to admit it. I missed my wingman. Their happiness made me happy, though. Plus, Olivia didn’t demand all of Zach’s attention. When he and I wanted to hit up the sports bar for a drink and to watch a game, she was fine with it. She didn’t nag him. She didn’t constantly invite herself along on our outings. Sometimes she came with us. Since I was genuinely fond of my sister, I was fine with it.
The restless energy I was feeling these days had nothing to do with Olivia and Zach. I wanted to blame them—and occasionally I did just to amuse myself—but in reality, the fact that I couldn’t seem to get comfortable in my own skin was coming from someplace else. I’d never had that problem before. I was an easygoing guy.
Yet, still—still—something felt off in my life. I simply couldn’t identify what it was.
“I’ll have a shot of the Buffalo Trace Double Eagle with a club soda chaser,” Zach volunteered.
I gave him an odd look. “That’s a weird combination. It’s also an expensive one.” I happened to know that the Buffalo Trace Double Eagle sold for like twenty grand a bottle.
He shrugged. “I want to celebrate. I’ll just be having the one shot,” he said to the server.
“Of course.” The woman’s smile never faltered. “I’m Misty. I’m here to get you whatever you want.”
