Everyone barked out another laugh because, yeah. The devil-may-care guy sounded almostexactlylike that cartoon tiger.
“Okay, everybody!” Megan stood to gain everyone’s attention. “Time to sing to the birthday boy!”
“But first, grab a drink!” Ro motioned to the shots.
Picking up two of the tiny glasses, she ignored the small drips of cool liquid spilling over the rounded edges as she handed them to her friend. Megan set one down in front of Cade—who was oblivious to its arrival—before stretching across to pass the second one on.
The makeshift assembly line continued until everyone around the table was ready to roll.
“Listen up!” Christian Hunt—Delta’s leader and Megan’s fiancé—rose to his feet. With a commanding voice, he addressed the group as a whole. “Now I know we’ve all enjoyed giving Ellis a hard time about being the baby of the group.” His brown stare landed on Cade’s. “I also know I speak for everyone here when I promise you…” A dramatic pause. “We’restillgoing to give you shit for being the youngest on the team. Ain’t that right, boys?”
Just as the man promised, the other Delta men joyfully hollered their own solemn vows. Christian raised his tatted arm in the air, the rest of the team followed.
Standing on Cade’s other side, John Rockland—better known to the group as Rocky—cleared his throat and jutted his strong, square chin. Looking like a living, breathing Greek statue, the blond warrior put on a serious face and then…
He began to sing.
Badly.
“Happy birthday to you…”
Thankfully the entire table, along with half the bar, quickly joined in to wish the team’s gentle giant a very happy birthday. Once the singing had come to an end, Ro did her duty as Rocky’s friend and slammed the smooth bourbon down with a harsh tilt of her head and one big gulp.
Holy shit. That really burns!
Remembering why she stuck to the simpler things in life—like fruity drinks, wine, and the occasional beer—she did her best not to outwardly react. The last thing she needed was for present company to catch her coughing or gasping because she couldn’t handle her liquor.
She’d witnessed enough razzing between the group of lethal friends over the past couple of years to know she didnotwant to make herself a target.
Taking in several slow, deep breaths to cool the liquid embers, Ro stood to the side and tried like hell not to cough. The previous conversations picked back up around her, and to her left, Megan sat back down in her seat and scooted closer to the table.
The second she did, Cade leaned toward the other woman and began slurring on and on about something Ro couldn’t quite hear...which was probably for the best.
Lips twitching at the thought, she turned and glanced at the growing crowd. With everyone else in her party occupied, she decided to use the opportunity to slip back to the bar for something a little less flammable.
Resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, she leaned down, speaking close to Megan’s ear to save her already strained voice. “I’m going to grab another drink,” she shared. “You want anything from the bar?”
When Megan gave a gentle shook her head, her layered brown hair flowed back and forth in soft waves. “Thanks, but I’m good,” she smiled up at Ro. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll just be sitting here, enjoying the musings of a very drunk man who will mostdefinitelyhave one helluva hangover tomorrow.”
The humored expression on the woman’s slightly freckled face made Ro laugh.
“He’ll probably be the first in line at Cup of Joe tomorrow,” she chuckled back, referring to the quaint coffee shop Megan owned. “Lord knows he’s going to need a lot of strong, black coffee when he finally decides to crawl outta bed.”
“In that case, we should keep the shots coming. I mean…job security for me, right?”
“Exactly.” Ro huffed out a breathy chuckle and nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
With careful steps, she slowly began to snake her way through the thick crowd.
This being her first time here, she absorbed her surroundings with an artist’s eye as she moved. With its black walls, low lighting, and spacious seating area, the club had the perfect balance of hip, masculine lines and feminine hues and curves.
Upbeat music played from speakers scattered all throughout the Chicago bar’s interior. The crowd a constant sea of movement as people walked around, danced, laughed, and drank the night away.
Black and white photos from yesteryear adorned the walls around her, some even hanging in the narrow space above the long bar’s massive mirror that was now fully within her view.
It was a typical bar’s bar. Several black, backless bar stools—all currently filled with people talking to those standing between said stools—lined the front of a long, shiny, wooden countertop.
Facing her from behind the bar was the gigantic mirror she’d seen earlier. Glass shelves topped with just about every liquor known to man ran filled the reflective surface.