Clashing Hearts - Nicky James Page 0,9

strolled unrushed toward the bar. Pausing before I made it all the way, I caught my reflection in the window and ensured every hair was in place and my clothing was even. I had on one of my more expensive suits—minus the jacket. Announcing my status ensured I was adequately taken care of in establishments like these. It never hurt when I was on the hunt either.

Satisfied I was looking my best, I slid shamelessly onto the empty stool beside him. Noticing the commotion, he turned his head, blanching when he caught sight of me. I second-guessed myself for all of ten seconds when a faint smile creased the sides of his mouth.

“Is this seat taken?” I cocked a brow, exchanging a smirk.

“Looks like by you.”

It took a beat for me to figure out what he’d said. His voice was deep and smooth, quiet and unassuming. But his words were all strung together, which made it difficult to puzzle out.

“Name’s Lachlan.” I offered him my hand. “You’ve been a distraction all through my dinner.”

He shifted all the way around on his stool and shook with a firm, unyielding grip. His hands were rough and callused, likely from years of hard labor, a direct contrast to my smooth office ones. His gaze was assessing.

“I’m Easton. Most of the guys just call me East.” Then he added something else I didn’t catch.

Between his quiet tone, jumbled sentences, and lazy drawl, I shook my head, confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, y’ain’t from around here, are you?” It was a modicum clearer that time.

“No. Edmonton. Just in town for business.”

“Hmm.” He nodded like he’d assumed that already.

The bartender approached, and I asked for another mug of the homebrewed lager I’d been enjoying all evening.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked Easton while holding up a finger at the bartender before he walked away.

“Nah, I’m all right. Thank you.”

Up close, his eye color was more distinct—like amber or honey, a swirling mixture of yellowish-brown. They studied me as I studied him. It was a silent two or three minutes before the bartender placed my beer in front of me and walked away.

I drank, making another display of licking my lips when I finished. Easton’s attention traveled to my mouth, his jaw ticked, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Gifting him a knowing smile, I leaned in, catching a hint of leather and outdoors and something more distinct I couldn’t name. “Got plans when you’re done with your little dinner party?”

He chuckled and ducked his chin, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe my boldness. “I don’t know you from Adam. What are you getting at?”

“You know very well what I’m getting at. I don’t play games. I tell it like it is. Keeps everything simple.”

Easton rubbed his jaw as he shifted around on his stool, diverting his attention to the bartender as he worked. “I don’t know. I ain’t that kind of person.”

“I think you are.”

He stayed quiet. The cogs in his brains spinning. I had him.

“East.”

The pair of us swung around on our stools when a woman called from behind. She was a tiny thing, with the same shade of hair as the guy beside me. Same amber eyes that flicked in my direction, dissecting me at a glance before looking back at Easton.

Easton grunted something I didn’t make out, but the woman must have understood.

“The girls and I are leaving. We’ll take Dad home. He’s tired. You and Austin stay however long you’d like.”

“Is my pretty girl leaving?” the auburn-haired guy asked, jumping off his stool at the other side of Easton and taking the woman in his arms. He kissed her deeply and tugged her in for a hug.

“Yeah. I was just telling East we’re heading out, and we’ll take Dad home. You guys have fun. And don’t drink too much while you’re here or else East will have to drive.”

Another grunt and mumble from the man beside me, which earned him matching looks of scorn.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Be good,” the auburn-haired man—Austin, I thought I heard—said to her.

“You be good. If you show up hungover, I might change my mind about marrying you.”

“Hardy har. You’re funny. Go on.” Austin kissed her again, then the woman—whose name I hadn’t caught—kissed Easton’s cheek too before leaving.

Austin eyed me before sharing a silent conversation with Easton. With a smirk, he went and gathered the other men from down the bar. Before Easton could turn around and face me, the group of men on his

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