I snatch a shot glass, pour myself a double, and knock it back, relishing the burn as it seeps down my throat, hoping it’ll bring a dose of forgetfulness later. His eyes are pinned on me as I set the glass down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like a lady.

“You sure?” He wrinkles his brows, his gaze shooting from the glass and back to me.

I give him a nervous smile while I consider pouring another shot. Too bad I’m on the job and I don’t want to get fired. “Positive.”

No one will find out about Quinton’s visit.

It’ll be my and my stupid tormentor’s little secret.

Among many.

He reaches out, running his hand over my arm, as worry flashes along his features. “If you need anything, I’m here. You know that, right?”

If it were any other time, I would revel in his touch. Now, I can’t keep my mind straight because all I’m thinking about is Quinton.

I tap his wrist. “You getting soft on me, Callahan?”

“Hell no.” He snorts.

I do a sweep of the bar, noticing the growing crowd, and know soon, there won’t be much time for conversation. “Did Georgia find Archer?”

“Sure did.” He smirks. “Archer texted me, bitching about not giving him a heads-up.”

“Good girl.” I smile, a real one this time, as I think about Georgia barging in on Archer. “Tell him it’s time to rip off the Band-Aid.”

“Trust me, I did. Who knows if he’ll listen, though?”

“Make sure to keep me updated.” I pat him on the back.

He groans. “Hard pass on keeping you updated with my brother’s love life.”

I mock his groan. “Fine, I’ll be texting you for updates.”

“Too bad you don’t have my number.”

“Too bad I do.” I dance in place, Quinton temporarily dissipating from my thoughts. This is what I needed. “You’re just lucky I haven’t sent you nudes yet.” I pause and press a finger to my mouth. “Or does that make you unlucky?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, peeking at me through the spaces between his fingers. “How’d you get my number, you little stalker?”

“There’s a spreadsheet in the employee room in case we need someone to cover our shift.”

“Remind me to have Archer change that.”

“Pretty sure Archer has bigger concerns at the moment than me knowing your number.”

“Nope.” He presses his hand to his chest, feigning defensiveness. “That’s a serious violation of privacy.”

This is how it is with Lincoln.

I spend time with him, and all my frustrations fade.

I shove him at the same time I say, “Shut it. Who else will I call when I’m lonely at night?”