Chapter 6

After getting lunch with our friends, I didn’t see Liam for the rest of the day, which was pure torture, especially considering the way his fingers had brushed my thighs under the table all afternoon. I was worked up and ready to feel his hands all over my body, but unfortunately, he held off on the sex, and I knew exactly why. He was an absolute animal in the bedroom. He only ever gave his all, and there was no giving his all in the gym if he’d already given it in the sack. That was why he generally slept with his girls at night. Train, eat, fuck, sleep. Repeat. He and his friends were all the same way, and I’d known it for ages. If I wanted him, I’d have to wait until evening, when he got back from the gym.

And that sucked. A lot. Luckily, I had a job to distract me. Not so luckily, I worked with the person I least wanted to find out about me and Liam: my sister.

Riley and I had pooled our savings last year to open our gastropub, The Queen. The Queen’s Lounge, really, but everyone called it The Queen. It was a cozy fifty-seater in a not-so-glamorous part of SoHo, close to the tunnel into Jersey. It was all we could afford, and we weren’t sure it would bring in much business, but we became an instant hit when Liam started coming with the guys from the gym. After training, they’d swing by to grab a bite and a beer. Women caught on quickly that The Queen was the unofficial bar of the city’s top MMA fighters and trainees, and suddenly, they were coming in hordes. And with the pretty girls came the men, so before we knew it, Riley and I were set.

“Am I all tan and beautiful?” Riley asked, tossing her newly highlighted hair when I walked in. “I was on the beach like every day for the past two weeks.”

“Lucky you,” I smirked. “And here I was fixing the ice machine on my own because our repair guys went on vacation too.”

“Oh, shut up. I know Liam fixed it for you,” Riley snorted, fluffing her hair in the mirror behind the bar. It was true. I’d tried for days to fix the ice machine, but the second Liam noticed my struggle, he went back there, shed his hoodie, and got to work. He was in one of his simple white T-shirts and had just come from the gym, freshly showered, but he got quickly hot and sweaty again, prompting all the girls on my staff to gather round, watching and drooling without shame. I couldn’t blame them—I was among them. I just disguised my ogling better.

“So, how have you been enjoying our favorite bad boy, Liam?” Riley asked, cocking a sharp eyebrow at me through the mirror. My heart stopped for a second.

“What do you mean?”

“A month into living with him, and you haven’t killed each other yet. I’m shocked.”

“Oh.” My shoulders relaxed. “Well, we’ve always gotten along.”

“Yeah, but I figured you’d get sick of hearing him fuck bimbos every night, and I figured he’d get sick of just… having you there.”

“How nice of you to say.”

“What? He’s hot and single, you’re weepy and heartbroken. Who wouldn’t imagine that you’d be a total buzzkill?” Riley grinned. I snorted, rounding the bar to polish the wine glasses that had just come out of the kitchen.

“I’m thoroughly over Ethan, but you can assume whatever you want.”

“Oh, Sash, don’t get so defensive. We’re all here for you, sweetie. Ethan was your first love and your first everything. It’s gonna take a while for you to get over him and all that… wild, rowdy missionary sex.” She could barely finish the sentence before bursting out laughing. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. You should never tell me about your sex life ever again. I’m just not to be trusted.”

I smiled, acting good-natured to hide the fact that I was sweating over my sex life as of last night. Once boring, it had become hotter than hell in barely twelve hours. “Alright. Very funny,” I said, offering a grin. Any other day, I would have been at least a little salty about the remark, but I didn’t care now.

Riley put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “Something’s different,” she said, disappointment tinged with curiosity. I paused mid-rack.

“What do you mean?”

“You usually get all pouty and wounded when I talk about your shitty sex life.”

“I guess I’m growing up?”

“Doubtful. I think you’re fucking someone,” Riley said, her eyes getting wider. There was no way she knew, but my heart was already beating faster. “Oh God, no, that would be so wrong,” she muttered, clasping a hand to her mouth. “Sasha.” She stared at me, eyes so wide I thought they might pop out of her head. “You’re fucking that chubster who delivers the napkins!”

I let out the breath I was holding. Never had I been so relieved to be accused of sleeping with some random guy. “Riley, I… no. I’m not sleeping with him. Or anyone.” Not a lie. I hadn’t had sex with Liam. Not yet.

“Oh my God, yes you are! I watch you two flirt all the time! You were just too embarrassed to hook up till I was out of town!” Riley gasped, bouncing on her heels with her signature over-the-top excitement. “Oh my God, Sash. That is so cute. Seriously, don’t be embarrassed. A lot of girls like big bellies. I mean, Trav’s getting a bit of a beer gut,” she stuck out her tongue as she spoke of her husband. “But I still love him. Even though he was a boring asshole the whole vacation. He’s starting to get so damned lazy,” she muttered under her breath, almost to herself. There was a pause. “But at least he doesn’t look twelve months pregnant like your little fuck buddy!” she cackled, doubling over again.

“Oh-kay, Riles.” Our staff was starting to trickle in, so I just stretched my lips into a tight smile and shut up, hoping to stop the conversation before they could hear.

“Don’t worry, girl, I’ll keep your secret,” she winked. I gave a thumbs up, not wanting to get into this. I knew she’d drop it eventually, and she did, because shortly after opening, we were slammed and I had to come out of the office and get behind the bar.

“I see you’ve got the seats roped off,” a pretty redhead called over the counter, nodding at the three seats at the end of the bar we kept reserved every night for Liam and the boys. “When do the fighters get here?”

“Oh,” I smiled, still getting used to the fact that we were practically a tourist attraction thanks to Liam and his friends. “I’m not positive they’re coming by tonight, but if they do, it’ll be past 9PM.”

“Then we’ll be here past 9PM!” Red declared, toasting her Cosmo before turning to relay the info to her friends. They squealed in excitement as Riley came up behind me with a groan.

“I hate how these little sluts come here just to ogle Liam,” Riley muttered, running a credit card. “It’s pathetic.”

“What’s pathetic about it? He’s every girl’s type, and they’re giving us business.”

“I just don’t want him sleeping with groupies. He’s better than that,” Riley muttered. I raked my bottom lip between my teeth. I didn’t know what constituted a groupie, but if it was a girl who actively chased a guy, then I was a total groupie for Liam.

Riley glared at me. As usual, she misinterpreted my silence. “Don’t get all quiet, Sash. Just say it.”

“What?”

“You think I’m jealous because you think I still have a crush on Liam. Which I do not.”

Except you do. Riley had claimed since marrying Travis that she was no longer attracted to Liam, but every time she got drunk enough, she slurred on about how she’d divorce Trav in a heartbeat if our mother split from Liam’s father, Vic. “I mean, look at Liam. Look at those abs. Look at that ass. Am I not a woman? What am I supposed to do? Not want to fuck him? I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. Just fucking look at that man.” It was always unbridled, nonstop, and hilarious. I’d have to hustle Riley into another room so she didn’t say anything loud enough for others to hear.

“You’re just protective of him. Like he’s protective of us,” I said, lying to end the conversation. I hadn’t told Aria about last night yet, and all that pent-up scandal was still bouncing at the tip of my tongue, desperate to come out.

“Yeah. I’m just protective of him. I love him,” Riley murmured, overpouring a beer as she gazed out the door. I tried not to overanalyse the look on her face. I didn’t have time anyway—the bar kept filling up.