He has me there. That’s probably our fault because we’ve always made our dislike for him very clear. It’s primarily out of jealousy, but still. I sigh. “Look. She’s not doing good, and neither are you from the state you’re in. So, let me do something with that hair all over you, and let’s go.”
He turns on his heel and disappears from the room, coming back with clippers in his hands. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks, handing it to me with a pair of scissors.
“Sure,” I lie easily. I know the basics, but that doesn’t mean I’m not about to fuck up his head.
He pulls a chair over from the table to the kitchen. Jerking his shirt over his head, he sinks into the chair.
I plug it in and work on his scraggly beard, revealing that strong jawline underneath. I work in silence while he eyes me warily the whole time. I don’t blame him. We aren’t friends; hell, we aren’t even acquaintances. I tolerated him for Les, so we could use him when needed.
So why the hell am I getting him ready to see my girl?Because that’s what Les needs.
I pick up the scissors, and he sits back away from me. “I don’t fucking trust you.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I grouch. “I’m not going to stab you with scissors.”
He keeps his eyes on me but moves back within my reach. How pissed would he be if I gave him a bowl cut? A chuckle escapes before I can stop it, and he stands up. “That’s it. You aren’t touching my hair,” he says, jerking the scissors from my hands and storming from the room.
“Don’t be like that!” I yell, starting to laugh harder.
“Fuck you!” he yells back from the other room.
Still chuckling, I scoop up the clippers, following in the direction he went. I see him down the hall in the bathroom, so I walk in and sit the clippers down on the counter. I grin at him in the mirror and walk back out. I walk past his bedroom, and because I’m a nosey fucker, I slip into it before he can see me.
It’s at least cleaner here, but the bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, with dirty clothes lying around. Walking around, I snoop around the top of his dresser, the small end table, and a wooden desk in the corner. I’m getting ready to walk back out when a group of pictures catches my eye on the far wall. Looking closer, I see pictures of Zane with his dad, Les’ dad Luca, various pictures from his time with Luca, and the picture in the middle is of him and Les.
She’s in his arms on his lap, her head thrown back, laughing. He’s smiling down at her like she hung the fucking moon, lovewritten all over his face. His face is younger and less harsh than it is now since his face stays in a permanent scowl unless he’s around Les.
Am I crazy for considering what I’m thinking? Probably. Zane is still in love with Les; there’s no denying that. Even before what they went through. Les is the girl he never got over. Can I handle that? Can we? I’m about to bring him to the house because she asked for that. Ghost called Ryder earlier about trouble in Concrete Row, so he and Micah took off to check it out. He’ll at least be out of the house for a while; he sure as fuck is going to kill me when he gets back, though. Ryder respects Zane for getting Les out, but that’s as far as it goes. Ryder has a deep-seated hatred for Zane that won’t go away overnight.
I hear the clippers cut off and slip back out of his room like I wasn’t even there. I go to the living room, flopping on the couch to wait.
Before long, he walks back into the room, looking more like himself. He didn’t do a lousy job on his hair. “You still look like shit,” I quip.
“Ha. Ha,” he replies, bending down to pick up his shirt and sliding it over his head.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I can see what she sees in him. He’s built, my height, defined muscles, nice ass, and those weird, almost gold eyes.I see the appeal. Shoot me.
“Alright,” I say, jumping from the couch. “Let’s go.”
He follows me out the door without comment, locking it behind him. He slides into the passenger side of my brand-new Bugatti Chiron without question. He might regret that.
“Rich fucker,” he mutters under his breath.
I snort, shifting into reverse. “I know for a fact your dad left you money.”
“I haven’t touched it,” he answers, staring out his window.
“Why the hell not?” I ask, glancing at him.
He shrugs. “I just haven’t.” He turns to look at me. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly will I die when I get there?”
If Ryder doesn’t come home before I get him out,zero. “It’s fine.”
I maneuver onto the main highway and open the car up, slamming through gears.I. Love. This. Car.
I make it back home in record time and pull into the garage. I glance at Zane, expecting him to yell at me, but he’s smiling. “This car is badass.”
“Right?” I answer with a laugh.
