“She’s the definition of a puck bunny.” The evil glint flashing from Chett’s eyes should come as a precursor. “She can’t resist bouncing from one professional athlete to another–– Oops, in your case, your glory days are behind you, old man.”
Guests murmur around us. More people are filming this circus now.
Not good.
Kaz tips his chin down and glowers at Chett. “Keep talking shit about my girlfriend and I’ll––”
“Speaking of puck bunnies, your new girlfriend is as proficient as your mother was in the art of fucking––”
Kaz lunges at Chett.
I try to hold him back, but the man has the strength of a superhero. My efforts are as futile as a kitten pulling at a lion’s leg.
This isn’t going to end well.
I need to make him see reason. “He’s provoking you. Let it go, Kaz. Please, ignore him.”
“I can’t.” Kaz wiggles out of my hold and gets up in Chett’s face.
Shit, shit, shit.
I rush after him.
“This is how you get your kicks?” Kaz stares down at Chett from over his nose, his jaw working. “You can talk shit about me all you want, asshole, but call my girlfriend a puck bunny again, and I’ll make sure you consume your meals from a straw for the foreseeable future.”
Chett studies Kaz long and hard before taking a step back, sticking his hands in his pants pockets, and turning on his heel.
I’m not sure what Chett saw in Kaz’s eyes, but it was enough for him to know his ex-stepdad meant business.
“That’s right,bro, you can intimidate a woman half your size, but you can’t stand up to a man.” The guy who came to my rescue shouts that at Chett’s retreating back. “You’re a coward. Run away with your tail between your legs, pussy.”
Chapter 22
The big bad bear and Goldilocks
Kazimir
Harley licks her fingers. “I’m never going to have oven baked or fried chicken wings ever again.”
“Once you go open fire, you can’t go back,” I say. “That’s why Saturday nights are so popular at Number 22.”
“I can see why.” She takes another bite of chicken wing. “I thought the hand-cut fries were out of this world, but these sweet potato fries, ohmyGod. I could eat a whole bucketful of these.”
I take a swig of my beer and drop the bottle on the coffee table in front of me, catching a glimpse of the row of brownstone houses. You don’t live in Manhattan and expect privacy. Even in Brooklyn Heights, the neighbors at the rear of my property can see my every move when I’m on the deck. Same for when the folding glass door is open like it is right now, but on a perfect night like this, it’s a small price to pay for Harley and I to sit on the couch near the retractable glass wall. My eyes roam to the stairs leading down to the fire pit.
Had it been a cooler night, I would’ve started a fire.
When October comes around, I’ll treat her to the unforgettable experience.
Who said she’ll be around that long, Lindström?
I shift my attention back to her.
Harley traded her pretty white dress for a simple light-blue t-shirt, jeans shorts, and her fluffy, pink house slippers. The contrast between the simplicity of her outfit and the diamond necklace and earrings is striking.
It fills me with pride she’s still wearing them.
The one time I had bought Devlyn expensive jewelry, she asked me if I had kept the receipt for an exchange or a refund. The next day, I returned to the Fifth Avenue shop and asked for my money back.
