Free That Kind of Girl (Fillmore & Greenwich Book 2) by Kate Perry Page A

become a teetotaler when I wasn't looking?"
    "You need to stop talking like that," he said, sipping. Giselle had loved sparkling water. "Most people don't understand you."
    "Yeah, but you do." Max nodded his thanks to the bartender and saluted Remy. "To miracles happening."
    "What miracles?"
    "You coming out. It's only a matter of time before you order a proper beverage." His friend clinked his glass to his and then took a healthy swig. "So why did you come out? I thought I'd have to work harder for it. It's like you've been in hibernation."
    "Even bears come out eventually," he said, swirling the ice in the cup.
    "Seriously, though," — Max leaned in—"is it because you have a drinking problem?"
    He'd stopped drinking after Giselle had died. They'd always shared a glass of cognac at night in bed. It'd lost its enjoyment; there hadn't been any point in continuing to drink. "I lost my taste for it."
    Max stared at him, then pointed to Remy's chest. "How's your hair shirt feeling these days?"
    "Excuse me?"
    "Nothing." Max turned away.
    He had the distinct feeling he'd let his friend down, but he had no idea how or why Max felt that way. He was the one who'd lost his wife.
    Uncomfortable, he stood up. "I should get going."
    Max looked at him like he was disappointed. "You just got here."
    "I'll talk to you later." He told himself that Max didn't understand—he didn't want Max to understand. Let him go through life being a happy, sexy Max. He clapped his hand on Max's shoulder as he zipped up his jacket.
    As he left, he looked back to see Max alone. Feeling guilty for cockblocking and running, he stopped by a table where two blondes sat having beer.
    "Excuse me." He smiled mildly at them, stopping far enough away from the table to show he was harmless and establish that he wasn't interested in either of them. "My friend over there"—he pointed at Max—"hasn't been able to stop talking about how beautiful you two are."
    They looked back at Max with increasing interest.
    Remy leaned in. "I hate leaving him, because he's really sad."
    "Oh no," one of the blondes exclaimed. "Why? Did he just break up with his girlfriend?"
    "No, his dog died." Remy nodded sadly. "Atlas was his best friend, next to me. It happened suddenly."
    "Oh no!" they cried together, staring at Max with sympathy.
    "I thought you looked like animal lovers," he said. "I bet Max would really appreciate the company."
    They were already picking up their purses. "We got this," one of them said.
    "Thanks." He smiled, stopped by the bar to buy the trio a round of drinks, and left with a clearer conscience.
    He rode around for a while, aimless, not wanting to go to his empty loft but not sure where else to go. Finally, he headed back.
    Siobhan's text came in right as he got off his Triumph. Come to the milonga tonight at El V.
    He stared at it, trying to think of a reason not to go, but he couldn't come up with one, so he grabbed his tango shoes and went back out. He hadn't been to any milonga since he'd arrived in San Francisco. He'd hoped to go to his first one with Georgina. Her parents would have to do.
    The tango music streamed out the doorway of El Valenciano. It washed over him, settling him as he hung his helmet on the bike's handle. He strode inside, paid to enter, and stood in the shadows to watch.
    The dance floor was crowded with couples, a counterclockwise tide of dancers. They all melded into one, except for Christopher and Siobhan, who danced in the middle.
    Christopher wore a purple blazer and a scarf, looking cool even though it had to be stifling on the dance floor. Siobhan was sexy, her hair piled on top of her head to show off her bare back in her dress.
    The couple looked like they had a spotlight on them, and all the other couples gave them space, as was their due. They'd been dancing together for a long time, and it was evident in the way they moved and their openness. Christopher confidently gave Siobhan the space to do what she needed, knowing