“One night,” Knox says. “No pressure.”
“No Troy.” Salem smirks. “We’ll run interference if he shows up.”
“No cameras,” Houston adds. “We’ll keep an eye out.”
“You pick the place,” Knox says. “If you change your mind at the curb, we turn around. No questions.”
A night out with three guys I’ve crushed on for ten years, paid for by them? I can think of worse ways to handle a breakup.
“One night. Let’s go.”
2
KNOX
Salem isthe reason we’re leaving the studio. I should expect nothing less by this point. We’re in our forties, for fuck’s sake. He’s always angling us toward trouble, or at least toward a story. Consoling our brother’s ex doesn’t sound like a headline that ends with a mugshot.
Probably. But I’ve learned to never say never with Salem.
We spill out into the late light. The lot behind Sagebrush is bare and hot. Our bikes sit where we left them. Houston straddles his, waiting for us to do the same. Salem twirls his keys on a finger and grins at Lou like he’s found something he wants to steal and keep. I step between that look and its destination without making a scene.
Lou is guarded, not like the girls Troy usually dates. She’s got that long dark hair up, copper streaks catching the light, pierced ears, and a black tank top and leggings combination. Curvy. There’s something nerdy hot about her. Might be the tank top—it reads,I’m not a nerd. I’m just smarter than you.
In Troy’s case, she’s right.
She stops short beside the bikes. “Where do I…ride?” She gestures at the lineup like there’s a wrong answer, and somehow it will be her fault.
Salem’s eyes light. I know that look. His go-to solution for fear is speed and flirtation, preferably layered. He lifts his chin at his ride. “With me.”
“Hold up,” I say before Lou can even process the invitation. I keep my voice light. “Ride with me.” I slap the back half of my seat and offer her my spare helmet. “I’ve got more room and a more comfortable bike for two.”
Salem rolls his eyes at me, the exact way he has since we were kids and I took a match out of his hand on a windy day. That’s how I know I made the right call. If Salem hooks up with Lou tonight, we lose any shot at smoothing things with Troy later. And no, that isn’t the only reason. But it’s a good one to tell myself while I ignore the rest.
Lou glances between us. There’s a flicker of relief, then a shrug that tries to look like it doesn’t care. “Okay.” She takes the helmet, fits it, and tightens the strap with quick fingers. She steps close and climbs on. Her hands hover like she doesn’t want to assume. I reach back and guide them to my waist.
“Hold on. Lean when I lean.”
Houston swings onto his bike. “We’re taking surface streets,” he says for Lou’s benefit. “No freeway.”
“Boring,” Salem mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Safe.”
“Same thing,” he shoots back, grinning.
The engines come alive, a chorus I know in my bones. I check the mirrors, Lou’s grip, the quiet in my chest that shows up any time the road opens. Lou fits against my back like she belongs there. She doesn’t squeeze too tight. She doesn’t float either. She does exactly what I ask and leans when I lean. The city unfolds in low stucco and palm trees before it spikes into glass and glowing lights.
The Strip grows from glare to structure, all screens and moving color. Valet lanes snake like rivers in flood. Houston cuts into ours first. The crew out front knows us. If they didn’t know us before we were booked for a residency, the residency taught them our names, our tells, our tips. Heads turn, phones tilt, but it’s early evening, so most people pretend to be casual. There’s always paparazzi outside of The Gold Bar Resort, but we’ve gotten good at ignoring the shouts and flashbulbs.
I park, kill the engine, and kick the stand. Lou peels off the helmet and hands it to me. Her hair’s a little wild from the ride. It looks good on her. She looks like she could do math on a napkin and hand you the answer before you finish your drink.
“You okay?”
She nods. “Better than okay.”
I nod too. I don’t press.
Salem hops off and stretches. “The suite first?”
