One Night of Trouble Page 46
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.”
AJ faltered. The person in front of him was a complete stranger. A very big, very terrifying stranger. He was six five, if not taller, with tattoo-covered arms, silver piercings through his lip and both eyebrows, and a body-builder physique that AJ would’ve been scared shitless of if the two men had been in an MMA cage.
“I…think there might be some kind of mistake…” Frowning, he took an uneasy step back, but a hand clapped over his arm to stop him.
“Fuck no,” the stranger exclaimed. “C’mon, join the party. The more the merrier, Blondie.”
AJ had no time to object. He was being dragged into the pub, and the hand on his arm might as well have been a steel vise.
Half a second later, there was no doubt in his mind that he was in the wrong frickin’ place.
Forty or so people crowded the dim-lit room—nearly all male. He spotted maybe four or five females in the mix. None of which were Brett. And of course, who could miss the huge green banner draped across the massive stone fireplace on the other side of the cozy room?
The one that read: Congratulations, Liam and Steve!
The two men’s names were written inside a big red heart.
AJ’s gaze darted from the crowd of men, to the streamers and balloons, to the makeshift dance floor, until finally it landed on the ten-tiered cake sitting on the sleek oak bar counter…which proudly featured two tuxedo-clad figurines on the top layer.
Two grooms.
“Yeah, I’m totally in the wrong place—” he started.
The grip on his arm tightened as the man it belonged to broke out in a smile. “C’mon, Blondie, let’s dance.”
The next thing he knew, the grinning behemoth pulled him onto the dance floor.
Chapter Thirteen
AJ was waiting outside Brett’s door when she reached the top of the staircase. With his back against the wall and his long legs stretched out before him, it appeared as if he’d been sitting there for quite some time.
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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.”
AJ faltered. The person in front of him was a complete stranger. A very big, very terrifying stranger. He was six five, if not taller, with tattoo-covered arms, silver piercings through his lip and both eyebrows, and a body-builder physique that AJ would’ve been scared shitless of if the two men had been in an MMA cage.
“I…think there might be some kind of mistake…” Frowning, he took an uneasy step back, but a hand clapped over his arm to stop him.
“Fuck no,” the stranger exclaimed. “C’mon, join the party. The more the merrier, Blondie.”
AJ had no time to object. He was being dragged into the pub, and the hand on his arm might as well have been a steel vise.
Half a second later, there was no doubt in his mind that he was in the wrong frickin’ place.
Forty or so people crowded the dim-lit room—nearly all male. He spotted maybe four or five females in the mix. None of which were Brett. And of course, who could miss the huge green banner draped across the massive stone fireplace on the other side of the cozy room?
The one that read: Congratulations, Liam and Steve!
The two men’s names were written inside a big red heart.
AJ’s gaze darted from the crowd of men, to the streamers and balloons, to the makeshift dance floor, until finally it landed on the ten-tiered cake sitting on the sleek oak bar counter…which proudly featured two tuxedo-clad figurines on the top layer.
Two grooms.
“Yeah, I’m totally in the wrong place—” he started.
The grip on his arm tightened as the man it belonged to broke out in a smile. “C’mon, Blondie, let’s dance.”
The next thing he knew, the grinning behemoth pulled him onto the dance floor.
Chapter Thirteen
AJ was waiting outside Brett’s door when she reached the top of the staircase. With his back against the wall and his long legs stretched out before him, it appeared as if he’d been sitting there for quite some time.