34
A Good Old-Fashioned Ass Kicking
Lucian
Life’s fuckin’ funny sometimes,” Knox mused.
We were occupying the corner of Honky Tonk’s bar on an unseasonably warm March night. I’d been summoned to Knockemout by Nash and Knox, who seemed unnecessarily concerned that I was in the midst of some midlife crisis. Stef and Jeremiah had tagged along for the Shiraz.
Lina’s firing had been reversed—as soon as I realized I couldn’t actually handle the workload alone—and I’d been reasonably polite to everyone at work today. They had nothing to worry about.
“In what way?” I asked, not particularly caring.
Spring was in the air. It made me want to drink until I couldn’t see straight. It was my first time back in town since my last time with Sloane, and every damn thing in this fucking place reminded me of her.
“The three of us growin’ up, raisin’ hell. Gettin’ in trouble. Now look at us.”
“Three grown men still raising hell?” Stef guessed.
“You should have seen them in high school,” Jeremiah teased. “It’s a miracle this town is still standing.”
Nash’s mouth quirked. “Now we’re almost respectable.”
“And we’ve got women too good for us.” Knox shot me a pointed look. “Well, two outta three.”
“Way too damn good for us,” Nash agreed.
Knox raised his glass. “May they never come to their senses.”
I ignored the toast. But I couldn’t ignore the train of thoughts it ignited.
My life was now divided cleanly. Before Sloane and After Sloane. I should have felt better by now. I was keeping her safe by keeping my distance. Something I should have done from the beginning. Something I always seemed to be incapable of. But I’d done the right damn thing. So why the fuck did I feel so damn knotted up inside?
Even now, I was watching the door, willing her to appear. And then what? Would she continue to freeze me out? Or would she direct her fiery temper at me?
“Where are these way too good for you women tonight?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to get information on Sloane’s whereabouts, it’s not coming from us,” Nash said.
The bearded Morgan brother shrugged. “You fucked it up, you fix it. And since you didn’t come to us before you fucked it up, we sure as shit aren’t helping you fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I insisted. “We had a good time. We’re done having a good time.”
Stef snorted into his wineglass and exchanged what-an-idiot looks with Jeremiah.
Nash set his bottle down on the bar. “I’m just gonna throw this out there before one of us does or says something stupider. Do not talk about Sloane like she’s one of the model scientist one-night stands you’ve been burning up the sheets with lately.”
“Things just got interesting,” Stef sang and nodded toward the door.
There she was. In a short black turtleneck dress that showed off the curves I’d so thoroughly explored. Her hair hung in a straight, sleek curtain down her back. Every muscle in my body tensed. My cock went rock-hard. It was too soon. I shouldn’t have come here. I wasn’t ready to see her and not feel things.
“Looks like someone isn’t waiting around for you to call,” Nash observed.
It was then that I realized she wasn’t alone. She was on a date with Kurt Michaels, the kid-loving teacher. He looked exactly like the kind of guy who would have kids. He’d buy a minivan and coach baseball, and every Christmas Eve, he’d stay up late, putting together toys.
Fuck.
“Man, that’s gotta sting,” Knox said smugly.
“Gotta admire our guy Luce here,” Nash said. “If Angelina had shown up on a date, I would have gone in swinging and not stopped until I carried her out over my shoulder. Not Rollins though.”
“Luce could give a shit that the girl he pushed away because he was too chickenshit to have feelings just showed up on a date,” Knox said, picking up the thread.
“Fuck you both,” I said into my bourbon.
“You could at least stop staring at them like you want to rip his arms off prior to carrying her off like a caveman,” Stef suggested.
“Fuck you too,” I shot back.
Jeremiah held up his hands and grinned. “Don’t look at me, man. You live your life the way you want.”
What I wanted was to turn away, to at least look in another direction. But I was riveted. The silver tips in her hair were gone. In their place was a single lavender streak.