Page 30 of Wrecked

I can’t get those memories out of my head.

On impulse, I text him.

Me: What are you doing?

I get no response.

Me: What are you up to tonight?

Again, no response.

Like an idiot, I go down to his apartment and knock. There’s no answer. I knock again. Still no answer.

Then I do a really harebrained thing and go down to the parking garage to see if his truck is here. It isn’t.

I text him again.

Me: Answer me, damn it.

Sam: I’m drinking blue balls.

Blue balls?Shit!He’s at Sapphires. Guys will be all over him like sprinkles on a cupcake.

I hop in the Escalade and head to Sapphires.

I try once more to text him.

Me: Don’t do anything stupid.

Sam: Go away.

Me: I’m coming.

Sam: Don’t bother. This really jacked teddy bear is plying me with copious amounts of alcohol.

Me: Sam please don’t.

Sam: NOW you give a fuck? Spare me. I’m done wasting my time with you.

I stop texting and start driving because he’s probably minutes away from disappearing into the bathroom with some random guy who is probably trying to get Sam drunk.

I park a block from the entrance to Sapphires and hustle it down the sidewalk to the front door. The line has cleared out already, thank God, so I’m able to walk right in. I head straight for the bar, expecting to see Sam sitting there, but he’s not. There’s not a single redhead seated at the counter.

Damn it!I swear to God, if I’m too late—

And then I spot him on the dance floor. It’s not hard to find him. His red hair gives him away. It looks copper underneath the flashing blue neon lights. A bearded, brawny guy is standing behind him, grinding against his ass.

I stalk right over and insert myself between them. The look on Sam’s face is priceless. At first, he’s surprised to see me, and then he smiles. That lasts for about ten seconds. That’s when his smile morphs into a frown.

“Who’s the daddy?” the big guy asks Sam.

Sam scowls at me. “What are you doing here, Cooper? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Yeah, buddy,” the big brute says as he clutches Sam’s hips and pulls him close. “Can’t you see we’re busy? Don’t butt in.”

I grab one of the brute’s hands and, as I twist it backward, his face contorts into a mask of pain.

Instantly, he releases Sam and cradles his wrist to his barrel chest. “Fuck! You don’t have to be such a dick.”