4. Naomi

The bar was surprisingly comfortable,even with the crush of people. I wasn't much for going out to drink—or eat, for that matter—but I could see why Iona liked the vibe.

The ceilings were high, the vibe was easygoing, and the music didn't pulse like in the clubs I'd been dragged to in the past.

It was loud, that was for sure, but it didn't have that bass that vibrated in the chest. This was more like background noise, familiar and fun. Since it was a ladies' night type of atmosphere, there was the slick overtone of the hookup culture and desperation tinged the air like smoke.

Loneliness echoed around in certain faces.

Not all.

But for every group of fun-loving women, there was one who was searching just a little too hard. Or who was hitting on Colder with a touch too much focus. The other man with the heavier beard got just as much play, but he seemed more oblivious to it.

Callahan, I think I'd heard Colder say.

He was more no nonsense with a side of friendly. Surface.

Colder was…more.

More charm, more crinkles at the corners of his eyes from his perpetual smile, more sex appeal. He was effortlessly building drinks, his long fingers competent and practiced as he poured, shook, wiped, and replaced drinks. All with an easiness I couldn't fathom.

Watching him pulled something in my…stomach. Maybe lower.

I wasn't used to that. I'd never been the type to notice such things. I was generally more interested in a man's brain. Nice features were a bonus, muscles not required. In fact, I'd rarely been attracted to people who cared about such things.

Walking was good enough for me to keep fit and strong. My cubical mates at Webster had talked me into doing a yoga class here and there, but I wasn't much of a joiner when it came to a room full of people sweating and chatting.

Much like a bar, but a bit safer.

I generally enjoyed the people watching when I couldn't get out of a social outing, and Lonegan's definitely applied there. Ages ranged from a newly minted twenty-one to a few in their sixties at the side table near the window—and everything in-between. An honest-to-God neighborhood bar.

But I couldn't stop my gaze from drifting back to Colder.

The tanned arms, rippling with muscles. The dimple that flashed when he was truly tickled into a laugh. He smiled, no doubt about that, but he didn't give a deep chuckle all that often.

Made me wonder if his surface was similar to the proprietor, just offered up a little differently.

"Gonna need a napkin for that drool soon."

I glanced at Iona. "That obvious?"

She grinned and took a sip from her drink. She'd switched over to seltzer and vodka for a second drink. Colder had added a splash of cherry juice to give it a lovely pink shade to go with the bright green lime.

Artist.

Surprisingly, he didn't just shuffle drinks. The backup bartender who had showed up twenty minutes after we'd arrived didn't have his finesse. He was sloppy and barely filled the glass enough to cover the cost of a drink.

Callahan caught him a few times, and his jaw flexed with annoyance.

Subtly, Colder shuffled him toward the simpler drinks like beer and cider. The new bartender seemed far more worried about flirting and gathering numbers than doing his job. He had a slick look and reeked of too much cologne.

I wasn't mad that Colder seemed to urge the new guy toward the other end of the bar, keeping us company when he could. Just like now. He came down with a tall gin glass full of my preferred ginger ale and frozen raspberries bobbing around the crushed ice.

I wasn't sure how he knew exactly what to bring, but he was surprisingly adept at reading the fact that I wasn't much of a drinker.

He set the drink in front of me and another vodka seltzer for Iona. "We'll be serving hot drinks after eight if you need something to warm you up on this rainy night. Things will die down around 8:30."

Iona transferred her straw from her current glass to the new one. "Who's the new guy?"

"Robbie." Colder's voice was flat. "He was two hours late."

"Ah, that's why you were both running around." Iona stabbed her straw through the ice and stuck her tongue between her teeth with a smile at the cherry at the bottom of her glass. She pulled it out and popped it in her mouth. "I don't like him."

Colder leaned on the bar and popped the tab on a can of Coke. "Why?"

"Has shit heel all over him." She sliced her white teeth through the cherry with glee. "Two pump chump, I bet too."

Colder choked on his sip of soda. "Jeez, Iona."

She shrugged. "You asked."

Colder slid his gaze over to me. "And you?"

I sipped my drink to wet my dry throat. Him up close was a little too much to deal with for me. I preferred watching him in the distance. "I saw him airdrop his contact info to at least four women in ten minutes."

Colder's amusement slid away with a flare of nostrils before he straightened. "Is that so?"

My fingers tightened on my glass. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Colder's face gentled, and he touched my arm briefly. "Not at all. Just not what we do here."

My eyebrow arched. "Like you've never gone home with a pretty girl at the end of the night?"

Iona's eyes widened as she wrapped her bright red lips around her straw and took a slow sip.

"Not saying that." Colder took a long draw from his sweating can. My gaze drifted to his long throat working and that little flutter in my belly grew and unfurled.

"What are you saying?" My voice sounded prim even to my own ears.

He set his can under the bar on his side. "There's a difference between flirting and finding a connection with someone, even if it's only for a night." He tapped the cuff on my wrist, then lightly toyed with my thin bracelet, his nail twirling one of the pearls near the side of my hand.

Goosebumps rose along my arm and surprisingly arrowed to my nipples.

Barely a touch.

"Making a woman feel special, not just a ticket to punch. And not on the goddamn clock." He straightened, his light blue eyes flashing with something I didn't quite understand. "That's the difference."

I frowned, but a customer came up to the bar and he wandered away.

"Careful there." Iona's voice was soft. "He's a professional flirter."

"Right. I'm sure it didn't mean anything." I pulled my hand under the bar and rubbed where he'd touched me. Surely the tingles would go away in a moment.

"I don't mean that." She turned to me. "I think he'd be good for you. Fun even."

I took a quick sip from my drink. "He's a person."

Iona rolled her eyes. "I know it. And one of the good ones. I've known him for a little while, but he doesn't stick."

"Revolving door?"

She shrugged. "Maybe a bit."

"I don't really have time to think about men right now. I need to find a job and get my life back together."

"Actually, it's perfect timing for a fling. No strings sex is good for the soul."

"What makes you think he'd be interested in no strings anything with me?"

"The fact that he came down here every fifteen minutes to check on us is a good indication." Iona drained her glass and tossed a twenty on the bar. "I've got a tab here."

"Oh, you don't have to pay for me."

"All good. Toss some tip money on there and we're good."

"We're going?" I slid off the stool. Probably a good idea before I did something stupid like tried to flirt back with Colder.

"Yeah, I think this is a good first outing for you." She waved at Colder. "See you Sunday."

"What's Sunday?" I waved awkwardly as Colder grinned and gave us a salute. I'd been kinda looking forward to the warm drink, but I was sure I could find something at our place.

I had my tea bags somewhere.

"You'll see." She hooked her arm through mine and steered me toward the door. "Now let me show you a little something." She stopped as we got to the door and turned back. "Take a look."

I tossed a glance over my shoulder and saw Colder watching us.

Watching me.

The little thrill was new, as were the jitters in my belly.

Then Iona dragged me through the doors and out onto the sidewalk. The rain had let up, though the sky was still pregnant with heavy clouds. We were in for a good soaking overnight.

The foot traffic was light, as were the cars. Most places closed up around eight or nine on a weeknight. Kensington Boulevard was lovely. It was four lanes with a wide median walkway dotted with trees coming into bloom.

April could be sneaky with warmth and freak snow in this part of New York, but the buds were already bravely trying to unfurl. We crossed the first two lanes of the street, but instead of darting past the median, Iona steered me along the cobblestone walkway.

"It's a nice night. I need to walk off the vodka a little."

I nodded. "Even in those heels?"

"I can run a mile in under ten minutes in heels if I have to."

I laughed and bumped my hip against hers. "Thanks again for giving me a place to stay."

She waved me off. "You're paying her share, but it's good to room together again. Like the old days." She grinned. "Besides, you're far more entertaining than Jess. All she cared about was studying and her girlfriend."

"Is that why she went to California?"

"Yeah, she was tired of doing the long-distance thing with Sassy." She shook her head. "What a name, but she makes my sister happy. And I can't blame her for heading for California. Besides, it gives me an excuse to head out there to visit."

"You miss her." I hugged her arm. "Smush."

"Shut up." But she tipped her head against mine for a second. "I didn't think I would, but I do. Don't miss her shitty music though."

I laughed. "Not all country music is bad."

"Oh, it is. You didn't have to listen to Carrie Underwood at six in the morning before there's coffee in your veins."

"Okay, I'll give you that one."

We walked down until there was a break in the median and used the crosswalk to get to the other side of Kensington. The scent of pizza lured us into one of the few places open.

"Not as good as Jimmy's over on Lancaster. I'll bring you there one night, but it'll do."

"You're going to have to tell me the good food places. I'm not much of a cook."

"Me neither, sister." There were a handful of people who looked as if they were trying to soak up some of their Thursday night drinks too.

Luckily, the guy behind the counter was quick and the New York style greasy cheese hit the spot. We laughed over old stories as we ate, and the first sense of rightness settled on my shoulders like my favorite blanket.

I hadn't been sure about moving back to New York. Some of it echoed of failure, but maybe I needed to restructure that narrative.

Maybe it was a new start.

By the time we got back to our apartment, the carbs and grease and drinks lulled me into sleepy contentment.

I'd go back to job searching tomorrow.

Or maybe Monday—like Iona had said.

Give us a few days to just be Naomi and Iona. Just like the old days.