It wasn’t a college bar, too far from campus, too dim, too quiet. No packs of students screaming over beer pong. Thank God.
The place had a rustic feel, wood beams, scuffed floors, a few middle-aged couples leaning into each other at the bar, soft country music dragging lazily in the background. Not my scene. Definitely not Ryan’s.
Hardly anyone was on the small dance floor, just older groups clustered around tables, laughing over shared appetizers.
I headed toward the back, where it was darker, a little more private. Small table. Perfect vantage. No Ryan.
I ordered a whiskey on the rocks, letting the ice sweat against my fingers. Sipped. Checked the time. My wife wouldn’t be home until midnight, plenty of time to hear him out and leave. This wouldn’t take long.
So why the hell were my hands already clammy?
Why was I even here?
I’d just about decided to leave when someone dragged out the chair next to mine.
Dark curls. Not blonde.
I exhaled into my drink.
Me: Where are you? I can’t wait all night.
“Hey, hot stuff.”
The voice was deep, the compliment carrying no heat, if anything, it was laced with something sharp.
I looked up. Brunette. College-aged. Eyes sweeping me like I was a mark.
He pulled out the seat beside me and sat with the ease of someone who didn’t care if they were welcome.
“Nathan, right?” He reached for my glass without asking and took a swallow.
I stared at him, then at the drink.
He grinned. “Sorry—how rude.” He set it down and offered his hand. “Dev—Derek.”
I didn’t shake it.
“Ouch.” He smirked, pulling back. “Don’t wanna touch me, huh?”
The bartender slid over, all smiles. “Can I get you anything, sir?”
“Yes,” Derek said, without looking at me. “Another of what he had. And… wow. You’re gorgeous.” He winked at her, making her giggle.
She returned a moment later with the whiskey, setting it in front of him.
I checked the clock again, scanning the room for blonde hair. No sign. I started to rise.
“Woah, wait,” Derek said, catching my wrist lightly. I gave him a flat stare.
“For you, man.” He nudged the fresh whiskey toward me. “Sorry for drinking yours.”
I sat back down, took a slow sip. When I suddenly registered what he said.
“How’d you know my name?”
He smirked like the question amused him. “Ryan told me.”
A chill slid down my spine. “Did Ryan send you? Where is he?”
