“Fucking Gemini. Theworst.”
I watch in disbelief as Ox-Oliver pulls off his jacket. Then, he raises his bulky, muscled arms over the back of his head and pulls off the tee. As soon as it’s off, both Bella and I stare at his chest. I let my eyes move down to his abs. Holy shit, he’s got those. Like on the book covers. Like Chase Ryder’s. I gasp when Bella reaches out like she’s about to touch him. “Don’t,” I snap. “Bella?”
“He’s so pretty,” she says sort of breathlessly.
“So are you, darlin’,” Ox-Oliver says in a raspy voice. “Look here.” He points to the T-shirt that is now laying across the bar—the back side up. “Well damn, honey. You’re not listed on my shirt.”
“Yeah?” Bella leans over his left arm until she’s practically pressed up against him. I know what this means. Bella and Ox-Oliver are going to be a thing. At least for a night or two. After all, he’s a leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding bad boy. It was a done deal the second he walked in the door.
“Does that really matter, Ox?”
The pair of them stare into each other eyes. It’s a bit unsettling. When Oscar-Oliver-Ox moves his head left, then right in slow motion, I know it’s time for me to go.
Well, the multitude of shots I had throughout the day told me that, but it’s been confirmed now more than ever thanks to the open-mouth kissing my best friend and the biker guy are up to now.
“Fine.” I sigh. Setting my empty glass on the bar, I slap the top and push away, causing my chair to fall backward. Ox-Oliver is nice enough to pull away from Bella in time to grab my arm before I go right along with it. “You okay?”
Patting his arm, I shake my head. “No worries. I’m calling our one and only taxi for a ride home.”
“Me too.” Bella says it but she doesn’t mean it. I know this because she’s now running her hand up and down motorcycle man’s arm. “I live close, though. So, I guess I could walk.”
“Let me see you home, then, pretty lady.”
“Why, thank you.” She grins up at him. “Aren’t you sweet.”
Not for one second does she think this guy is sweet.
Let me rephrase that. She’s hoping he’s not. She wants quite the opposite.
“I’m out.” I grab my purse and search for my phone. I’ve got our taxi driver on speed dial. I just don’t like to use him because he’s expensive. It’s gonna cost me five bucks to get home. Oh, and he’s a huge gossip, so everyone will know how drunk I got at Brother’s by morning.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. “Who cares?” Pressing his button, he picks up on the first ring. I attempt to sound as sober as a judge. I’m not sure it worked. But he says he’ll be here in five minutes. I can handle five minutes. Making my way to the door of Brother’s, I trip on something that’s now gone. A cat? A mouse?
I snort, then giggle at the absurd notions running around in my head. That’s when I run into something else. Someone standing in the open doorway of Brother’s. Looking up, I see Finn Manning. In uniform. His big arms crossed over his chest and the angriest expression I’ve ever seen on his face. “Oh. Hey, Finn.”
“Lou.” His voice is gruff. Angry. I’m a little worried he’s mad at me for being drunk at––what time is it? But when I look up at him, his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on Bella.
Glancing back, I snicker because Bella is something else. She’s kissing the guy again, her hands are in his long hair, and she’s practically in his lap.
When I look back at Finn, I stop smiling because the look on his face is alarming. He looks like he either wants to kill the biker guy or throw Bella over his shoulder and take her back to his cave.
I snort. “Caveman.”
“You’d better not be driving, Lou.”
Just then, my taxi pulls up. “Nope.” I point at Tim. “Got a ride.”
“Good.”
“Bye.” I wave to Finn, but he doesn’t wave back because his arms are still crossed over his chest. Patting his arm, I think I whisper this, but I can’t be sure. “Patience, grasshopper. You want the girl, wait for the girl.”
Then, I slide into Tim’s Taxi.
I’m blubbering in the back of Tim’s Taxi Service’s car. It’s a 1998 Ford Festiva, so it’s not at all comfortable in the back seat. Plus, it reminds me of what a tin can would sound like if it had an engine and wheels. “He’s not even from California, Timmy.”
We all call him Timmy and have since he was six.
“Let me get this straight. The guy you were seein’ left all of a sudden?”
