A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,99

explain, still dazed from the enormity of this gesture. “You should know his schedule, since you’re the hockey fanatic.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re the hockey fanatic now. And more importantly, what are you going to do after that, Dean?”

“Yes, Dean. How about after that?” Maeve seconds.

“Guys, I need to sort things out,” I add, but I’m grinning, and I can’t stop, not at all and not when Maeve hits the first tune on the jukebox. Music fills the bar, and everything feels okay in the world again.

At least for now.

But most of all, I can’t stop grinning because I know what I need to do now, and it’s not hang out with my mates.

I step outside and call Fitz. He answers in less than a second.

“Hey you,” he says.

The sound of his voice is like melting chocolate. “Hi. The jukebox is amazing. That’s an incredible gift.”

“I miss you,” he says, cutting to the chase.

My stomach flips, and briefly, I lean against the brick wall of the bar so I don’t stumble off the earth, pushed by this rush of emotions. “I miss you too.”

“I miss you so damn much. And then when you sent that text just now, do you know how it made me feel?”

I step away from the bar, heading down the street, smiling. “How did it make you feel?”

“Like I knew how to be happy again.” He sounds relieved, but his tone holds a tinge of sadness.

I wince, walking along the street. “I know the feeling,” I say, an answering sadness in my voice. I don’t want that to color our time talking, so I strip it away and laser in on something good. “So, you’re playing great.”

“I am.”

“The pact is working.”

“Maybe, or maybe we’re just a good team. And hello, when did you become a hockey fan?”

“I’ve taken an interest in it lately.”

“You researching hockey is hella hot, babe.”

I turn the corner. “You know what else is hella hot?”

Fitz moans, all raspy and sexy. “Tell me.”

“You, me, video chat. Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back to my flat in fifteen.”

“Good, but let’s keep talking now,” Fitz says.

“Obviously. I’m not letting you go,” I say.

“When you say that . . .”

“When I say what?” I tease. It’s so easy to flirt with him, it’s like we never hit pause.

His voice is rough and needy. “Do you know what it does to me when you say that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

His answer comes in a long, appreciative rumble. “Everything. It does everything to me. Turns me on, makes me happy, all at once. But I think that’s how I’d describe you.”

I laugh lightly. “I turn you on and I make you happy?”

“Yes. You do. Now call me on video. I want to see your face as you walk home.”

I give him what he wants. I want it too. I switch to a video call, and there Fitz is, looking so unbelievably handsome in—

“Are you wearing a fucking suit?”

Fitz wiggles his brows. “I am. Heading to a preseason game.”

I shake my head in appreciation. “You look incredible,” I say, drinking in how handsome he is in a tailored dark-blue suit, clearly custom-fitted, as well as a crisp shirt and light-green tie. “Mmm. That tie. If I were there, I would put it on you.”

His lips curve up. “You would?”

“Drape it around your neck, line it up, loop the tail over . . .” I’m getting ridiculously aroused as I walk home, telling Fitz how I want to knot his tie. If I were to put on his tie, my hands would be on him. “Thread the fabric through, tighten the knot, and adjust it against your neck.”

He breathes out hard, his chest rising and falling, his fingers tugging at his collar. “Look what you’re doing to me. You’re turning me on telling me how you’re going to accessorize me.”

“You’re not the only one turned on.” My whole body is buzzing. “I think all of South Bank must know I have a hard-on.”

“Thanks for mentioning your dick. Now I’m rock hard too.”

“You were pretty hard already, I bet.”

“I was,” Fitz says as he unknots the neckwear.

I blink, processing what he’s doing. “Are you going to get undressed right now? While I’m on the street?”

“I am. I’m too worked up not to.”

I glance around. “I’m almost home. Just wait. I can’t have everyone seeing you.”

“Better walk fast, babe.”

“You dickhead,” I say, but I’m smiling as I pick up the pace while he tosses the tie to the floor. Soon I’m at my building, up

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