Page 172 of Rising Heat

“I think you might be right” he says, like that’s the best possible outcome.

Marco lifts his glass.

“Marco.”

“I’ve heard good things.”

“Most of them are true.”

Bex laughs softly at that and glances at me.

I knew she’d like Marco.

Trick gives her an easy nod and raises his bottle slightly.

“Trick.”

“As in Patrick?”

Coop almost spits out his beer.

“Just Trick.” He slaps Coop on the back. “Welcome to the circus.”

Bex looks over at Mack, who’s already reaching across the table to offer her his hand.

“You must be Mack.”

She shakes it, holding his gaze just long enough that I know she’s comparing him to every story she’s had to listen to for the last two months.

Then she looks at me, one eyebrow moving maybe half an inch.

I reach for my drink.

“Shots?” Coop asks.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bex says.

“I like her,” Coop announces.

“You said that already.”

Trick shakes his head.

“Still true.”

Tyler leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine beneath the noise of the table.

“She’s gonna fit right in.”

Looking around the booth, it’s hard to argue. Bex’s already laughing at something Coop said, Marco’s watching the chaos with quiet resignation, and beneath the table, Mack’s knee rests against mine.

He’s probably right.

Within twenty minutes, Bex has Coop passionately defending Boston sports fans like he’s their official spokesperson while Marco keeps dropping the occasional one-liner that catches her just as she’s taking a sip of her drink. At some point she and Trick drift into a conversation of their own while the rest of us talk around them like they’ve both temporarily stepped into another frequency.

Mack comes back from the bar carrying two beers and slides one toward me. His fingers brush mine briefly against the glass, cold condensation against rough skin, and I look down before it fully registers what he handed me.

No white wine or a cocktail. It’s the local lager I’ve apparently been alternating with my usual order often enough that Mack remembered it before I ever stopped to realize it’d become a thing.