Page 44 of Clean Finish

“I’d obv be your best man if you get married, right? I would give such a good best man speech. I could tell everyone about you photocopying your balls at Taylor’s old work.”

“No, you fucking could not,” Holt said quickly.

“But it’s, like, a romantic little story! Or at the very least, it’s hilarious. It’d get a big laugh.”

“Larkin, for the love of god, please do not start talking to Taylor about best man speeches when he starts work next week. That would definitely freak him out. He’ll think I’m secretly planning our nuptials.”

He huffed. “Okay, fine, but I’m putting it in writing that you said you want me to be your best man. For when it does happen.”

“I didn’t say that. You did.”

Larkin waved a hand. “You agreed, bro.”

Holt spluttered. “No, I fucking didn’t.”

Trying not to give Larkin an affectionate look, I opened the door to the private box and stepped aside for them both to go in.

“Thanks, Seb,” Holt said absently as he swept past. Larkin grinned up at me, pausing to lift Cora to my face so she could frantically lick my cheek before I had a chance to jerk my head away.

A reluctant smile tilted my mouth as he snickered and slunk into the room while kissing the top of Cora’s head. I followed, shutting the door behind me and beelining straight for the couch against the back wall. I could already faintly hear the sounds of the crowd filtering into the arena below.

Holt stopped in front of the windows, hands on his hips. “Busy already tonight.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Excellent.”

“So what cool new ideas does Taylor have for the club?” Larkin asked as he set Cora down beside me on the couch, then hustled over to the minifridge.

“Tonnes of new merch. Pay-per-view online. Different signature cocktails for the headliners each night.”

“Oooh, that last one sounds dope. Can I have a signature cocktail too?”

Holt huffed and turned to drape himself elegantly across the couch in front of the window. “You’re not a wrestler.”

“I know, but I’m basically an institution here now. An important member of the team. Can mine be caramel apple vodka and cream soda?”

Holt’s nose wrinkled. “That sounds vile. And that’s not a cocktail. It’s just a mixed drink.”

“We could put a little umbrella in it. And we could call it…” Larkin thought for a moment, straightening from the fridge with two cans and a water bottle cradled to his chest. “Larkin’s Fae-tastic Cocktail. No, wait—The Creamed Jeans. Because of the cream soda.”

I suppressed a snort, ducking my head so Holt wouldn’t see my smile.

“And Seb’s should be…”

I glanced up, meeting Larkin’s eyes. He stared back at me for a moment, that blush climbing up his throat.

“Something with honey in it,” he said, looking away. “Like maybe… whisky and honey something. Or maybe maple syrup.”

Honey and maple syrup? I liked both just fine, but I didn’t think I’d ever expressed a particular love for either in front of Larkin, so I wasn’t sure what had made him suggest them.

“I like honey,” I offered hesitantly. “And whisky.”

Holt let out an exasperated sigh as his head fell back. I’d almost forgotten he was in the room. “Alright, if we’re just making cocktails for everyone, what would mine be?”

Larkin cocked his head, eyeing him as he munched on a pretzel. “Well it’s gotta be dark rum and something.”

“Espresso and brown sugar,” I suggested quietly. Holt perked up, eyeing me with interest over the back of the couch.

“That sounds pretty good, actually.” Suddenly, he looked very on board with having his own signature cocktail. “What would it be called?”

“Holt Up,” Larkin blurted, looking proud of himself. “You know, instead of hold up. Like, hold up, folks, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried the boss man’s sig tail…”