“I’m sorry,” Will gasped from behind his fingers. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Hawk. It’s just too much.”

Turning back up to the man beside our table, I smiled. “Thanks very much for checking in. Go ahead and let Henry know we’re sorted.”

Mike Hawk wasn’t a tall man, and he didn’t look as hard and intimidating as the casino executives in movies would lead me to expect. He was average height, with a round, friendly face and eyes full of understanding. He gave a little laugh, shaking his head before leaving us with, “Enjoy your stay, gentlemen.”

“I would like to state for the record,” I started once he’d left, “that I am the only fucking bloke at this table who was able to keep his arse together.”

“Mike Hawk!” Bennett practically yelled at me, dropping his hand. His eyes were red from laughing. “How am I supposed to keep it together over that? That’s like meeting a fucking unicorn.”

Will leaned over to high-five him, and then sighed, leaning his head back against the back of the couch. “Holy crap that may have been the highlight of the night.”

“The night is young,” Bennett said, recovering with only a slight slur to his words. He glanced at Will’s empty glass. “Have another.”

“No. It’s too late to get me drunk and have your wicked way with me.”

“Garçon!” I yelled, grinning. “A scotch for the curmudgeon. Bring the whole bottle if you would.”

“I told you, Max, I’m not drinking that.” Will turned his face away in mock anger. “It’s too damn late to pretend you love me.”

The waiter slid the glass of scotch in front of Will and, with a quiet clink, set the entire bottle beside it.

Will stared at me, at the bottle, and then shook his head. “No.”

“The thing is,” Will slurred, tossing a sloppy arm around my shoulders. “Women are tricky.” He waved the index finger of his free hand in front of my face. “How often do you meet one you can imagine just hanging out with like this?” He dragged the s out to about five seconds, and then lurched forward, reaching for his glass. It skittered away from his fingertips before he finally captured it with his palm.

“Just the one,” I admitted. “And even with Sara, it’s different than with you guys. I try to curb the swearing.” I rubbed my jaw, reconsidering. “Sort of.”

“You curbing the swearing is like me curbing the . . .” Will trailed off, thinking. “The something. I’m hungry.” He ran a hand over his face and looked at his watch. Likewise, I checked my phone. It was nearly five thirty in the morning. “Actually, I’m tired. Let’s meet for lunch at noon and start this fucking bachelor party thing over again tomorrow.”