Nightclub manager Julian Cullen runs Reservations with impeccable precision and a deep sense of pride. But repressed memories from his abduction two years ago surface, leaving him struggling emotionally. Julian vows to reclaim his previous life but doesn’t factor in the biggest distraction of all: the handsome cowboy hanging around the club intent on gaining his attention.
“Julian, listen to me. I’ve got to run.” Thane’s harsh tone insinuated Julian had somehow been the one creating the extended phone conversation. “Thomas Peterson’s a member of the club. He has a reservation for next Tuesday night. You know him, right?”
All Julian could do was give a humorless shrug as one brow lifted and a shit-eating grin spread over his face.
“Yes, I know him,” Julian finally replied, limiting his response. It seemed the simplest answer, especially with Luke in the room. Tom was a longtime client of Julian’s who had seriously been giving Julian the eye his last few visits to the bar.
Did he know Thomas? Pfft. Intimately. Even down to the small incision scar on his right ball sac. Julian also knew Thomas liked to bottom in public settings. Julian had had to fuck the shit out of the man at every gathering and gala they had ever attended together, while they both stayed utterly silent. If Thomas didn’t have trouble walking afterward, then Julian hadn’t done his job properly. Try being dominant while silence was paramount.
“Good. Peterson has a connection to Pat’s Pub here in Baltimore. I want to make an offer on the place, and I can’t get past the owner’s son. I need Peterson to help pave my way in. I’ll make it worth his while.”
“Sure.” Julian could most certainly make that happen for Thane. “What’s the place?” He couldn’t understand Thane’s interest in a random business. There had to be more to that story.
“Remember a few years ago, maybe four, when you were in town and we went out. Remember we went to Pat’s Pub?”
Julian had to squint under the strain he put his brain through while trying to remember one place through a sea of hot spots he had attended. “Maybe. Who owns it?”
“The Collins family. The patriarch, Pat, is retired, but he still holds court at the bar, and no one in the family will sell without his permission,” Thane confirmed. “He’s Irish through and through. It’s an Irish pub and the attached restaurant is called Sunday’s. I understand Peterson’s friendly with Pat. What else do you need?”
Julian pushed back in his seat at such a dumb question. He didn’t need anything. Thane had made the call and crashed Julian’s day, not the other way around. “You called me, Papi.”
A huff of breath hit the earpiece before Thane lectured, “I’ve asked you numerous times to stop calling me that, Julian. It’s unprofessional…”
Honestly, Julian used the old endearment just to get underneath Thane’s skin. If Thane would just realize Julian’s tactics instead of getting all riled up, it would take the fun out of it and he’d maybe quit using the name. But alas, Thane started on his angry roll, making Julian smile as he rose to his feet, extending the landline telephone across the desk to Luke.
“He wants to talk to you,” Julian whispered.
It took Luke a second to finish before he reached for the phone, never looking up from the screen. “Hey,” Luke said.
No matter how hard Julian tried, he couldn’t contain the laughter that welled inside him as he left the office, knowing Thane’s head just exploded. Julian lived for giving Thane shit. He glanced down at his watch, making a mental note of his daily calendar. He had scheduled an impromptu counseling session to discuss two things. First, Beckett and this attachment Julian was beginning to feel for the man. Second, the ease with which Julian had handled last night’s flashback.
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