The Groomsman_An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance by Sloane Hunter

Author:Sloane Hunter [Hunter, Sloane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stockton Publishing
Published: 2020-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

I’d been correct. From the rooftop bar, the night exploded from one back alley haunt to the next. Mac led me through Wonderland like the White Rabbit, seemingly possessing a preternatural knowledge of where and how to find the most interesting and exciting spots for debauchery and deviance.

We popped from bar to bar, talking with backpackers from Europe and locals who’d lived on the Mexican coast their entire lives. I made Mac try a fruity cocktail (that he grudgingly admitted to enjoying) in a watering hole converted from a sixteenth century church. From the whispered advice of a one-legged, pockmarked local, we found an unmarked door and knocked only to be welcomed into a full-on rave somehow muted by what must have been solid steel walls. I’d wanted to leave until Mac grabbed my hand and pulled me into the fray and we jumped and screamed with the others until falling back out dripping with sweat and laughing.

Another suggestion ended up being a three-story, neon-hued strip club that looked suspiciously like it doubled as a brothel. That one I dragged Mac out of immediately even as he insisted we should ‘just give it a chance’.

We eventually found that hulking motorcycle group on the street corner and Mac talked to them in terrible broken Spanish until he had them doubled over in laughter describing how I’d walked in on him and the wedding planner in the woman’s bathroom. Then somehow Mac convinced me to jump on the back of a Harley while he argued with another to let him drive (the man didn’t cave). They drove us to another part of the neighborhood and we did shots and sang loudly and badly to Mexican music that I could only guess the words of.

Eventually, the motorcyclists spun out to a different part of town, leaving Mac and me to switch bars yet again, this time to a much quieter place where Mac started up a game of pool with a kid who looked to be in his late teens and who displayed an impressive sleeve of homemade tattoos.

I sat on a barstool, sipping my signature fruity cocktail while Mac and the kid circled the table, stabbing at balls and exchanging friendly insults.

“Where’d you learn to shoot, kid?” Mac asked as he sunk the eight ball to win the game. It hadn’t been a long one. The kid looked drunk, making sweeping declarations and tripping over his stick.

“Wa-Wan more game,” he slurred to Mac.

“Nah, man,” he said. “This is too easy. Play one of your friends.” He nodded to a table set back a bit where a motley collection of guys ranging from the kid’s age to early twenties watched them play.

“Play me,” he insisted. The kid shuffled in his pocket and brought out a wad of cash. My brow furrowed at the sight. I wasn’t sure what the conversion of pesos to dollars was, but it looked like a hell of a lot of money.

Now he had Mac’s attention. His eyes lingered on the money and then flicked up to meet the kid’s.

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