How to Steal Your Best Friend's Fiancé - London Casey Page 0,28
in touch with Liam whenever you want.”
She took out her phone and started to make a call.
I stood in the middle of the bakery and took a deep breath.
I always envisioned picking out my own wedding flowers.
But to do that, I needed someone to marry.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
I felt the pretzel hit me right in the forehead.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the bowl in front of me and threw it at Jackson as hard as I could.
He swatted it away as Cole and Lincoln jumped back.
They both started to laugh as Jackson karate chopped pretzels out of the air.
“Hey,” Jackson said. “You can go after me, but not here…” He pointed to his face. “Or here…” He pointed between his legs.
“Why are you throwing food at me?” I asked.
“It’s bar pretzels,” Jackson said. “It’s hardly considered food. You’re sitting there like someone just told you your cat died.”
“I don’t even have a cat,” I said.
Jackson snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Exactly. No pussy. We need to fix that.”
“Give it up, man,” Cole said.
“He won’t,” I said.
“She’s gone,” Jackson said.
“She’s on a business trip,” I said.
“Wait, I’m lost,” Lincoln said.
“Miranda went to Boston,” I said. “For a conference and possibly some interviews.”
“Shit, are you leaving the city?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t picture it. But… who knows…”
“And we’re out tonight to have a little fun,” Jackson said. “Let’s throw some darts. Pick a fight. Get drunk. Come on…”
I looked at Cole and Lincoln.
They shrugged their shoulders.
I stood up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt.
I slammed my hand to the bar and whistled for the big boobed bartender wearing the low-cut top.
She looked at me. “Do you think I respond to whistles?”
“You will for mine, babe,” I said with a smile.
The bartender smiled back and walked toward me.
“You know, normally I would kick someone out of here if they talked like that to me.”
“But you won’t do that to us, right?” I asked.
“Look at him go,” Jackson said to Cole.
I side eyed Jackson.
I was engaged.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with a bartender for ten seconds.
It was a game.
I flirted.
She flirted back.
I got drinks.
She got paid.
The night moved on.
“So…” The bartender leaned against the bar. She spilled damn near almost all the way out of her top. “What are you having tonight?”
“Is that some ink I see?” Cole asked.
He flashed his million-dollar smile.
The bartender looked at Cole. “Maybe.”
“I think it’s only fair if I see some ink, I see it all,” Cole said.
“How about I show your friend and he can describe it?” she offered.
“Yes!” Jackson yelled.
The bartender looked at me again.
“Do you have any tattoos?” she asked me.
“Ones I’d rather not talk about,” I said.
“Regrettable ones?”
“Who spells the word fuck wrong?” I asked with a laugh. “Two k’s?”
“Really?”
“No,” I said. “What other tattoos do you have?”
“You’d love to see where,” she said. “I’m Stacy.”
“That’s Liam,” Jackson said.
“Your guy friends here are really excited about us talking. Newly single?”
“Not even close,” I said. “I’m engaged.”
“But she’s out of town,” Lincoln said.
The bartender laughed. “Oh, this looks like a dumpster fire if I ever saw one. Then again, the offer still stands. Nothing wrong with looking, is there?”
“Tell you what,” I said. “Keep the bar flowing with whiskey and beer and we’ll see where the night goes.”
I handed her my credit card and she stuck it into her bra.
I looked at Jackson and he was grinning ear to ear, nodding.
I still knew how to have fun.
I just needed to avoid trouble.
In my defense, the guy took the first swing.
That’s what I told myself as I tackled the guy onto a pool table.
He punched my ribs with some speed and force, but I held my own as I slammed the back of his head to the pool table.
Behind me, I heard the sound of Jackson, Cole, and Lincoln handling their business.
All over darts.
And tits.
These guys wanted to play for fun. Then the whiskey said to play for cash. Then more of the whiskey had me wanting to defend the honor of the bartender. Who, by the way, loved to flirt with anyone with a wallet.
Not that I blamed her one bit.
I rolled off the pool table, my hands clutched tight to the guy’s shirt.
I threw him against the wall, shattering a mirror with a beer logo above it.