and Saint approached our table. His expression was unreadable, but his body was oh-so-fine as he and my brother seemed to effortlessly cut a path in our direction. I recognized his woodsy cologne from the law firm and breathed in the heady scent of log fires on a cold, crisp night.
Saint, as usual, looked as if he’d been dressed by a high-end fashion magazine and had just stepped away from his photoshoot. I hid my grin at Tori’s sudden wide-eyed infatuation and aimed a gentle nudge of my foot his way under the table.
“Chill, Tor,” I muttered. “Saint’s rules apply to you, too, friend.”
“Well, don’t you look cute as a button on this fine night?” Saint greeted Tori, and my friend let loose his tinkle bell laugh again at the overdone flattery.
I gagged—more for show than for real, but Saint’s casual flirting still irritated me. “Saint, my brother, may I remind you this is Tori, my friend?” I emphasized the important words in my sentence so Saint got my message, but he just rolled his eyes and grinned as he pulled up a seat next to Tori.
In reality, though, it didn’t matter how close Saint cozied up to Tori or whether he draped his arm over the back of Tor’s chair. Saint had never broken his rule in all these years, and he wasn’t the type to break it now—or stand for it being broken by anyone else.
I cast my gaze to the smooth wood tabletop to avoid Nico’s frown as he took the remaining chair—the one next to me. He filled my senses completely, and I fell silent, content to listen as Tori and Saint bantered back and forth and I breathed in Nico again and again until he consumed my thoughts, and I’d probably only make a fool of myself if I tried to speak, anyway.
I did my best to appear relaxed, keeping my feet from tapping a nervous beat against the wood block floor and my hands from forming tight claws around my beer. But Nico didn’t seem to be making the same effort. He sat tense and straight, and his expression didn’t change at all. He looked bored, or at the very least like he didn’t want to be there—only I couldn’t tell if he objected to the bar or if the problem was sitting by me.
Saint and Tori leaned closer together, their heads almost touching, and I’d just started wondering whether now was the time to drag Tori away when a movement at my side startled me.
I turned and found myself almost nose to nose with Nico.
“So, uh… What are you doing here?” His voice was unnecessarily loud in a lull in the music, and Saint and Tori stopped their little chat to look at us.
I drew back. The more distance between us, the better, because his question wouldn’t even make sense on a good day, let alone a moment where I was fighting my attraction to his proximity and needed to find the words to form an actual answer.
I frowned a little as I tried to figure out his meaning, but I must have waited too long, because he spoke again.
He gestured around. “I mean, we’re in a gay bar. You just Tori’s wingman?”
Something about him seemed too earnest, too invested, almost, and I glanced at Saint for clarification.
But my brother just shrugged. “Hey, man, it was never my thing to tell. I figure your closet, your deal.”
Shit, shit, shit. So that was where we were. Nico thought he was sitting alongside a straight man helping his friend troll in a gay bar. I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath as it became Nico’s turn to frown.
“I…I actually came out to my family about four years ago. So, uh, this is where Tori and I like to hang out sometimes.” I sounded apologetic, and I hadn’t meant to. My life would probably have been easier if Saint didn’t always take the moral high ground and gave in to the urge to gossip or talk about his family at least some of the time.
Nico’s lips parted, and I thought he might say something as an expression of surprise and something…hotter flitted through his gaze. But he glanced away, and when he looked back at me, any emotion was gone from his face, and he’d fixed his neutral mask back in place.
At a loss, I telegraphed a quick plea for help at Tori, but he was too busy alternating his gaze between Nico