It was Monday afternoon, three days and two hours before his weekly, precision-timed arrival on Thursday evenings. He was breaking pattern.
Kai Young never broke pattern.
Curiosity and a strange breathlessness slowed my pace as I brought him his drink. Tessa was still in the supply room, and the silence weighed heavier with each step.
“Are you taking notes?” I placed the cocktail on a napkin and glanced at his notebook. It lay open next to Kai’s novel, its pages filled with neat, precise black writing.
“I’m translating the book into Latin.” He flipped the page and scribbled another sentence without looking up or touching his drink.
“Why?”
“It’s relaxing.”
I blinked, certain I’d heard him wrong. “You think translating a five-hundred-page novel into Latin by hand is relaxing?”
“Yes. If I wanted a mental challenge, I’d translate an economics textbook. Translating fiction is reserved for my downtime.”
He tossed out the explanation casually, like it was a habit as common and ingrained as throwing a coat over the back of his couch.
I gaped at him. “Wow. That’s…” I was at a loss for words.
I knew rich people indulged in strange hobbies, but at least they were usually fun eccentricities like throwing lavish weddings for their pets or bathing in champagne. Kai’s hobby was just boring.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and realization dawned alongside embarrassment. Seems to be the theme of the day. “You’re messing with me.”
“Not entirely. I do find it relaxing, though I’m not a huge fan of economics textbooks. I had enough of them at Oxford.” Kai finally glanced up.
My pulse leapt in my throat. Up close, he was so beautiful it almost hurt to face him straight on.
Thick black hair brushed his forehead, framing features straight out of the classic Hollywood era.
Chiseled cheekbones sloped down to a square jaw and sculpted lips, while deep brown eyes glinted behind glasses that only heightened his appeal.
Without them, his attractiveness would’ve been cold, almost intimidating in its perfection, but with them, he was approachable. Human.
At least when he wasn’t busy translating classics or running his family’s media company. Glasses or no glasses, there was nothing approachable about either of those things.
My spine tingled with awareness when he reached for his drink. My hand was still on the counter.
He didn’t touch me, but his body heat brushed over me as surely as if he had.
The tingles spread, vibrating beneath my skin and slowing my breath.
“Isabella.”
“Hmm?” Now that I thought about it, why did Kai need glasses anyway? He was rich enough to afford laser eye surgery.
Not that I was complaining. He may be boring and a little uptight, but he really— “The gentleman at the other end of the bar is trying to get your attention.”
I snapped back to reality with an unpleasant jolt. While I’d been busy staring at Kai, new patrons had trickled into the bar. Tessa was back behind the counter, tending to a well-dressed couple while another club member waited for service.
Shit.
I hurried over, leaving an amused-looking Kai behind.
After I finished with my customer, another one approached, and another. We’d hit Valhalla happy hour, and I didn’t have time to dwell on Kai or his strange relaxation methods again.
For the next four hours, Tessa and I fell into a familiar rhythm as we worked the crowd.
Valhalla capped its membership at a hundred, so even its busiest nights were nothing compared to the chaos I used to deal with at downtown dive bars. But while there were fewer of them, the club’s patrons required more coddling and ego stroking than the average frat boy or drunken bachelorette.
By the time the clock ticked toward nine, I was ready to collapse and thankful as hell that I only had a half shift that night.
Still, I couldn’t resist the occasional peek at Kai. He usually left the bar after an hour or two, but here he was, still drinking and chatting with the other members like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Something’s off. Timing aside, his behavior today didn’t match his previous patterns at all, and the closer I looked, the more signs of trouble I spotted: the tension lining his shoulders, the tiny furrow between his brows, the tightness of his smiles.
Maybe it was the shock of seeing him off schedule, or maybe I was trying to pay Kai back for all the times he could’ve gotten me fired for inappropriate behavior （a.k.a. talking about sex at work） but didn’t. Whatever it was, it compelled me to walk another drink over to him during a lull.
The timing was perfect; his latest conversation partner had just left, leaving Kai alone again at the bar.
“A strawberry gin and tonic. On me.” I slid the glass across the counter. I’d made it on a whim, thinking it’d be a funny way to lift his mood even if it was at my expense. “You look like you could use the pick-me-up.”
He responded with a questioning arch of his brow.
“You’re off schedule,” I explained. “You’d never go off schedule unless something’s wrong.”
The arch smoothed, replaced with a tiny crinkle at the corners of his eyes. My heartbeat faltered at the unexpectedly endearing sight.
It’s just a smile. Get it together.
“I wasn’t aware you paid so much attention to my schedule.” Flecks of laughter glimmered beneath Kai’s voice.
Heat flooded my cheeks for the second time that night. This is what I get for being a Good Samaritan.
“I don’t make a point of it,” I said defensively. “You’ve been coming to the bar every week since I started working here, but you’ve never showed up on a Monday. I’m simply observant.” I should’ve stopped there, but my mouth ran off before my brain could catch up. “Rest assured, you’re not my type, so you don’t have to worry about me hitting on you.”
That much was true. Objectively, I recognized Kai’s appeal, but I liked my men rougher around the edges. He was as straitlaced as they came. Even if he wasn’t, fraternization between club members and employees was strictly forbidden, and I had no desire to upend my life over a man again, thank you very much.
That didn’t stop my traitorous hormones from sighing every time they saw him. It was annoying as hell.
“Good to know.” The flecks of laughter shone brighter as he brought the glass to his lips. “Thank you. I have a soft spot for strawberry gin and tonics.”
This time, my heartbeat didn’t so much falter as stop altogether, if only for a split second.
Soft spot? What does that mean?
It means nothing, a voice grumbled in the back of my head. He’s talking about the drink, not you.
Besides, he’s not your type. Remember?
Oh, shut up, Debbie Downer.
Great. Now my inner voices were arguing with each other. I didn’t even know I had more than one inner voice. If that wasn’t a sign I needed sleep and not another night agonizing over my manuscript, nothing was.
“You’re welcome,” I said, a tad belatedly. My pulse drummed in my ears. “Well, I should—”
“Sorry I’m late.” A tall, blond man swept into the seat next to Kai’s, his voice as brisk as the late September chill clinging to his coat. “My meeting ran over.”