I didn’t hesitate and slammed the shot.

I heard Cal chuckle.

I didn’t look at Cal.

I looked at Colt.

“You gonna give me shit about goin’ out with your brother in blue?”

“Gave Merry shit already,” Colt returned, and my stomach clutched. “He shoved it back.” My stomach unclutched and I beat back a smile. “Not sure which one a’ you is more fucked in the head, him for takin’ on your shit or you for takin’ on his. Just know I’ll kick either of your asses, you fuck the other over.”

“You do know I’m a big girl, Uncle Colt,” I shot back.

Cal chuckled again. Morrie joined him.

Colt started to look testy.

Or testier.

“Lotta people love you both, Cher,” he said quietly. “Pleased as fuck you’re takin’ a chance on life and doin’ it with the only guy on the planet I don’t have to do an extensive background check on. But want you both happy. You give that to each other, I’ll be over the moon. The opposite happens…” he trailed off.

Goddamned Colt, being his version of sweet.

Shit.

“Message received,” I muttered.

“I see good things,” Cal announced, and I turned surprised eyes up to him to see him already looking down at me. “He’s a catch. You’re a catch. That shit works, both of you are smart enough to know you scored and scored huge, and neither of you are stupid enough to forget it.”

Joe Callahan thought I was a catch?

Morrie poured another shot. “Babe, hit that, then hit the office. Fortification, then you get the shit job done and you can look forward to eight hours on your heels, which’ll be the best part of your night.”

Morrie totally knew me.

One could say I didn’t like shopping.

One could also say, unless there was a good deal of food to be consumed, the same with beverages, these being alcoholic, I didn’t do your normal girlie-type things.

I didn’t have money for manis and pedis and facials. I didn’t have patience with crowds in order to hang out at coffee houses and shoot the shit or go to the mall and ask my bestie if my butt looked big in things.

No, I wasn’t about that.

But I was the girl for you if you needed a wingman to go on the prowl, were happy to belly up to a bar and throw a few back while righting the worlds wrongs, if you liked to kick back and catch a game on TV, and I always had a dry shoulder to cry on.

Pawing through dresses with my girls around, giving their opinions about what would be just perfect for a date with Garrett Merrick, was not in the top two hundred things I would want to do.

And these men, who spent their free time bellied up to the bar or kicked back watching a game, knew my pain.

Fuck.

I looked to the office door.

I looked to the shot.