Home > Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(41)

Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(41)
Author: M. Leighton

“What the hell do you need me for, then? I’m no diamond expert.”

Cash shrugged. “Mainly because I wanted to ask if you’d be my best man.”

I’m sure my shock resonated in the car like the thud of a bass drum.

“No offense, man, but why?”

“There’s no doubt I know Gavin better. He’d be the logical choice. And I happen to like him a lot better, too.” He glanced over at me and grinned. I know he was probably telling the truth—no doubt he does like Gavin better—but what he was saying is that I’m his brother. I’m his blood. And it’s the one thing that can’t be erased, the one bond that can’t be broken, no matter how estranged we are.

And I understand what he feels. I feel the same way.

“But I’m your brother. I get it.”

He looked away from the road long enough to glance at me again, then nodded. That’s how I knew we were on the same page.

“So, you in?”

I took a minute or two to consider what he was asking, as well as my willingness to make such a commitment. I wouldn’t tell him yes if I wasn’t sure I could hold up my end of the bargain.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

Cash nodded again. He knew what I meant was that, come hell or high water, if I’m alive when his wedding rolls around, I’ll be there. I’ll be his best man.

After that, we fell into a fairly comfortable silence. I went with him into the most unconventional jewelry store I’ve ever seen. It was more like an old house converted into a posh store. It had different rooms for different types of jewelry. I’d never seen anything like it. Cash said it was one his law firm favored. He’d probably bought something for Marissa from there, although I didn’t bring that up. Not really out of deference to him; more because I didn’t really want to know.

He picked out a nice bracelet for Olivia for her birthday, then went off by himself with some woman into a room where they keep loose diamonds. Evidently he’s going all-out and having something unique crafted for her.

Poor pu**y-whipped bastard.

Looking at all the jewelry and thinking of the girlfriend I might have had, the one I might’ve been able to buy things like that for, just put me in a bad mood. And then when Marissa didn’t respond to my texts . . . Well, I was pretty pissed off by the time I got to her condo.

But to find her there in a fit of her own . . . Damn! That was kinda hot. I wish she’d been a little more agreeable to working off some of that steam.

I can’t help but frown as I think about the way she was acting, like I’d done something wrong. I have done something wrong, something terribly wrong, but I don’t think she knows what it is. If she did, she’d have probably thrown me out on my ass and sworn never to talk to me again. But she didn’t. So I doubt she knows about that. But what else is there? I all but told her I’m a lowlife. She knows I’m not the kind of guy she needs to be involved with. For God’s sake, I told her I’m a killer and she gave me a blowjob.

Maybe she’s had a crisis of conscience since then. Maybe. But it doesn’t seem likely.

Women!

This is exactly why I avoid getting too close to them. Most of them are batshit crazy and more trouble than they’re worth.

I should just walk away from this one. Only . . .

I thump my fist on the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t know what comes after the only.

I take the turns as Cash directed. I don’t know if he intended to invite me to Olivia’s birthday party, but after talking to Marissa, I invited myself. I figure that’s where she’ll be. Cash was just nice enough to give me directions.

I see the bar up ahead and make the left into the parking lot. In a shitty podunk town like Salt Springs seems to be, my guess is that this is the only spot for miles to get a drink. That or Olivia has an ass-ton of friends. Either way, the lot is packed with cars and pickup trucks.

I’m no stranger to walking into a bar like this one. I know just what to expect, and I’m never disappointed. People give me a wide berth. The men eye me like I’m competition; the women eye me like I’m dessert. I don’t really give a shit what they think. I usually have one thing in mind. Either getting laid or getting drunk.

That’s the only way this night and this bar differ from all the others. Tonight, I’m not here to get laid or get drunk, although if both happen I won’t complain. Actually, I’m not really sure why I am here, but I know it has something to do with Marissa. I’ve given her the impression that I’ll look out for her, that I’ll protect her. I can’t very well manage that when I’m hours away. It also has a little something to do with whatever bug found its way up her ass. I’m curious about that. And I wouldn’t mind exploring that little temper of hers. Other than that, I have no interest in what her deal is. I’ve got nothing to apologize for. At least not that she knows of.

My gaze is drawn to her right away. It’s not that she’s necessarily easy to spot in the crowd. This place is so full of blondes I might get high from the fumes. But Marissa’s hair is a natural blond, pretty easy to pick out of the yellowed bottle-blondes all around her. Plus, there’s just something about her that draws my eye, no matter how crowded the room.

Besides that, she’s sitting by herself. She’s probably never been to a bar like this one. Dual is probably the closest thing, which isn’t really very similar at all, since it’s more of a club.

She looks like an elegant fish out of water, even though she tried to dress the part. Her denim short-shorts are a little too new-looking and her T-shirt is probably designer. My guess is that it cost more than some of these people make in a month. And her smile is stiff, like she’s uncomfortable. I gotta give her some credit for trying, though. She came because she’s trying to do right by her cousin, because she’s trying to prove herself. Even if it means doing so in the enemy camp.

The girl’s got some balls.

When her eyes light on me, I see them freeze into icy blue points in the perfect oval of her face. She looks away, out toward the dance floor and the crowd moving clumsily there.

I don’t approach her. Instead, I go to the bar and order a beer. When the bartender slides me the green-tinted glass bottle, I immediately regret my choice. My dick twitches in response.

You meant to torture her and Cash, but the only person eating a shit sandwich is you! I think to myself as I try to put that night out of my mind.

   
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