“It’s fine to have needs, Meg,” he said, a smile playing around his mouth. “And,” he added, one hand resting on my hip, “if you do decide you need help with,you know, you clearly know where to find me.”
“I can get myself off just fine without your help,” I said hotly.
32
Hunter
The thought of Meg getting herself off was an ice pick to my brain. How did she do it? Did she do it in her bed? In the shower? In her office? Did she think of me, of all the times we had been together?
I had wanted to kiss her in the kitchen, run my hand up her body, bend her over the counter, and fuck her. Now she was gone.
I had spent the rest of the day spinning over in my mind how to win Meg back. However, I had reached the same conclusion that I had all the other times I had picked through scenarios. I had originally believed, after she had screamed at me all those years ago and told me to get off her porch, that eventually Meg would come around, that being in close proximity to me would wear her down. She would get over her anger, and we would be back together.
But Meg had been stubborn—was stubborn—and now I was staring down the barrel of a reality I did not want to be in, one in which Meg wasn’t mine, in which we didn’t get married and have kids and build a life together. The idea was devastating.
“Is this what you do all day?” Greg asked from the doorway of the clubroom. “Sit around in the dark and drink?”
“At least he took a shower,” Mace said, turning on the lights, setting his bag down on one of the antique leather chairs, and pouring himself a drink.
“Don’t ever let me hear you complain about having to make all these sacrifices watching the kids,” Greg said, “since you don’t even take care of them.”
“I corralled them after school, fed them, helped them with their homework,” I listed off.
“What did you do with the other eight hours of your day?” Garrett asked. “Beside trying to weasel out of going to the compost committee meeting.”
“Are we really going to have a whole pack of goats eating garbage in the middle of the town square?” Weston asked me.
“Good news sure travels fast.” I drained the rest of my glass.
“I thought you hated goats.” Parker wrinkled his nose.
“It’s your fault,” I snarled. “You brought that goat back from Ernest’s farm, and now Sadie is feeding it garbage, and the whole town thinks they should just ditch the waste disposal service and let goats free roam. It’s insanity!”
“And we’re all shocked why Leif is still at large, still manipulating and using women, and still has our sisters trapped,” Crawford interjected, striding into the clubroom and setting down his motorcycle helmet. “You all are pathetic.”
“Hunter’s not pathetic,” Weston said, defending me. “He’s lovesick. This is the most time he’s spent with Meg in forever, and it’s making him mopey.”
“I’m not mopey,” I snapped.
He stared at me, the scar across his eye prominent. “You two should just fight it out in a ring, medieval style.”
“I’m not going to get in a physical fight with Meg,” I said in horror. “What is wrong with you?”
“He’s an animal,” Greg said, glaring at Crawford. “All that time in the Special Forces rotted his brain.”
“It’s not like a boxing ring.” Crawford smirked. “The man is in a three-foot hole with one hand tied behind his back, and the woman swings at him with a bag full of charcoal.”
“That sound horrific,” Mace said.
“Yeah, Meg would totally brain him to death.” Crawford grinned, sharp-toothed, and grabbed one of the bottles of expensive whiskey, twisting the cap off with his teeth and taking a swig.
“I do have other things to do today,” Greg said, grabbing the bottle from Crawford and wiping off the rim with a napkin.
“Right, like losing yet another development,” Garrett cut in.
Crawford barked out a laugh.
“Shut up,” Greg hissed at Garrett.
