One Night of Trouble(47)

The familiar weight of guilt bore down on AJ’s shoulders. Damn it. He couldn’t deny the accusation, because it was 100 percent true. He had been pushing them away.

“You’re right.” He dropped his hand from the door and exhaled in a rush. “Look, I am seeing someone, all right?”

“Ha! I knew it!”

“But it’s not serious,” he added, “which is why I haven’t brought her around.”

“It’s not serious?” Reed shook his head skeptically. “Dude, you’re all about serious.”

AJ shook his head right back. “Not this time. Neither one of us wants a relationship.”

“But you’re, like, Mr. Relationship. I was the manwhore in the friendship, remember?” The lines in Reed’s forehead deepened. “Were we Freaky Friday’d and nobody told me?”

AJ had to grin. “Maybe.” He hurried on before Reed could hurl another question his way. “It’s no big deal, okay? I’m having a little fun, and that’s all there is to it.”

“If you say so.” Reed hesitated. “I still feel shitty about that fifth-wheel thing. How about you, me, and Gage grab some beers tomorrow? We can make it a dudes’ night.” He sighed. “God knows Darce and Skyler have enough girls’ nights. It can be our turn to gossip about them.”

“Sounds good.” AJ turned the knob and ducked out of the office. “But I really do have to run now. I’ll text you tomorrow, ’kay?”

Although talking to Reed had succeeded in alleviating the burden of unhappiness he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying, all thoughts of his friends flew out of AJ’s mind as he left the club. The eagerness to see Brett had quickly taken over, bringing a spring of anticipation to his step.

A few minutes later, he was typing the bar address into the Jeep’s GPS and planning out the fastest route to get to Brett.



There was a bouncer manning the door at Donnelly’s.

That was the first indication that something might be amiss, because AJ hadn’t encountered many bouncers in Boston’s pub scene. Someone inside to check IDs, sure, but never posted at the door.

And when he noticed the clipboard in the bulky man’s hand, the situation looked even less promising.

Wary, AJ approached the door, only for a meaty hand to rise up and stop him. “Sorry,” the man barked. “Pub’s closed for a private party.”

Wonderful. Brett could’ve warned him that Jordan’s birthday shindig was a private affair. He peered at the main window, but it was fully tinted, making it impossible to see inside. Still, she had to be in there somewhere. And she definitely wouldn’t have left him in the lurch.

“I should be on the list,” he told the bouncer. “Name’s AJ Walsh.”

The man’s gaze lowered to his clipboard, and then he gave a brisk shake of the head, officially squashing all the faith AJ had placed in Brett.

“You’re not on the list, bro. Sorry.”

“Look, my—” The word girlfriend got stuck in his throat, so he rephrased himself. “My friend’s in there. Everyone’s expecting me.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” The bouncer’s dubious expression said he wasn’t buying what AJ was selling.

“Brett.”

A pair of bushy black eyebrows soared. “For real?”

“Yes. For real.” He couldn’t stop the edge in his tone. “Why?”

“You don’t seem like Brett’s type.”

Of course. Yet another person making a judgment call about the “type” of man he was.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” With a little smirk, the bouncer ducked into the bar and left AJ outside like a chump.

Less than a minute later, the enormous man returned and held open the door. “Go on in. Brett’s coming to meet you.”

Thank fuck. AJ had been worried he’d be forced to hang out with Mountain Man until someone from Jordan’s party wandered out and vouched for him. Brett’s cell had gone to voice mail when he’d called to let her know he was on his way, which wasn’t a surprise—these past couple weeks he’d discovered that the infuriating woman never remembered to charge her phone.

AJ stepped into the small, wood-paneled entryway, where he was instantly greeted by the sound of classic rock blasting out of the pub’s speakers. Loud voices and bursts of laughter drifted out of the main room, but he didn’t get a chance to go there, because another behemoth of a man obstructed his line of vision.

“Well, damn,” the guy drawled. “Dude, I don’t know who you are, but I sure as hell ain’t complaining.”