A rowdy group with one singular focus was just the medicine Alex needed. Especially because the atmosphere at the sports bar had nothing to do with a celebration of love. The engagement party at the warehouse had been too much. Too vivid of a reminder of his failings as a husband. Not the sort of reminder he needed. He’d been able to withstand Patrick’s wedding because it was his brother. But he had so small of a connection to Tony and Genevieve, tonight had nearly been torturous. And the way he kept fantasizing about Elena? There was only so much anguish a man could take before he broke. He was already hanging on by a very thin thread. “What’s your poison, boys?” Anne set a hand on her hip, waiting for their orders. Her cotton-candy-pink hair curled in loose waves, a few tips following the succulent curve of her very abundant breasts. Her legs were a mile long and capped by barely there shorts. No wonder Sam Flynn had hired her to tend the bar on Saturday nights. Her tips had to be killer.
