Title: The Hookup

The Hookup

By Kindle Alexander

A few steps away, Easton hard-core second-guessed himself. Why had he walked away from the redhead like he had? He communicated for a living. As an attorney, it was his job to convince people to think the way he wanted them to think, and dammit, he was way past the point of denying how much he loved the chase. So why in the world had he left the bar area without Grant Holt in tow?

Easton knew better than most, guys who blushed the way Grant had, needed a gentle guiding hand to coerce them into being a bit naughty. He should have toyed with Grant longer, built a better sense of anticipation between them. Let their undeniable sexual tension build. Sadly, tonight there wasn’t time. People were wanting to celebrate the office’s big win. Damn, he wished he had more time.  Grant’s shy reserve was just the kind of thing that did it for him. That never got old and apparently maturity hadn’t helped, a little color in the cheeks and a shy downward cast of the eyes still vanquished all his carefully honed logic.

What was done was done. He had to assume Grant would follow. Easton pulled two twenties from his almost empty money clip and folded the bills, cradling them in the palm of his hand. He didn’t carry cash like he used to, replaced by plastic these days. He kept his stride self-assured, refusing to let Grant see his uncertainty—if the sailor had even bothered to watch him walk away.

On his way to the outer hall, he passed by an old high school buddy, Tom McShane, who also happened to be the general manager. Easton reached out, easily clasping the guy’s already extended hand. Easton’s grin spread into something a little more telling when recognition of the cash and what that meant registered on Tom’s face. It had been a while, but his buddy was quick on the uptake and started to protest.

“Easton, seriously…” Tom’s grin faded, and he started shaking his head and held up a hand.

“Come on. I’m feeling nostalgic,” he teased without slowing his course to the bathrooms while reaching for his cell phone to text his assistant, Dana.

“Forty dollars. That’s it?” Tom called out behind him. Easton couldn’t help the chuckle as he typed a quick message to Dana telling her that he’d reserved tables and they’d be waiting.

As for Tom and the forty dollars…well, Easton wasn’t quite the baller he used to be. He hadn’t planned for this opportunity to fall into his lap this evening. Sailor Grant was an unexpected treat indeed. Tonight, Easton had several credit cards, two twenties with a handful of one-dollar bills, and a peppermint in his pocket. Correction, Tom now possessed the twenties.

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