I glanced at him. “Why?”
“Because your face already took a hit last night. No reason to let the rest of you go down too.”
I stared at him. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m helpful.”
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
I changed shirts, being careful with my shoulder, then picked up my wallet from the desk.
Torres was waiting downstairs by his truck when we got there and Mills took the passenger seat, while I climbed into the back.
The second I shut the door, Torres peered at me in the mirror. “Damn. Can you even open your mouth with that bruise?”
“Fuck you!”
Mills laughed. “Cross is in a decent mood, don’t ruin it.”
“Yeah, don’t make me regret leaving the room,” I replied.
Torres grinned and pulled out of the lot. “Maybe one of the ladies will put makeup on you to cover that shit up.”
“Or I can give you a matching one.” I glared at him.
“Nah, I’m good.”
By the time we got to the bar, Aguilar was there with Mendez, Sims, and Kellman, three women from comms, along with Bradford, a loadmast I’d met only once before. They had a high-top table near the back, and Aguilar and Bradford were already engaged in some debate.
“I’m telling you,” Aguilar insisted, pointing at Bradford with his beer, “you don’t get to live in San Antonio and not respect good tacos.”
Bradford leaned back in his chair. “I respect good tacos. I don’t respect you acting like every taco in Texas changed your life.”
Mendez snorted. “He’s got you there.”
Aguilar spotted us. “There he is. Cross finally left his cave.”
I slid onto the chair next to Mills, trying not to let my body’s protests show at all. “You’re all really committed to acting like I never go anywhere.”
Bradford raised his bottle. “Heard you won last night.”
Torres slid a beer over to me, and I picked it up. “Word gets around fast.”
Sims looked at my jaw. “You won and your face looks like that?”
“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes.
“Sorry, I’m just saying.” She grimaced.
“Bet the other guy got it worse, huh?” Bradford asked.
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it. “He did.”
“Good,” he replied.
The conversation picked back up, and for once, I didn’t mind any of it. I sat back, took a sip from my bottle, and let the noise settle around me. Bradford was chill. He wasn’t loud, didn’t fight for attention, and didn’t have that pushy energy some guys had when they wanted to be noticed. He just knew how to slide into a conversation at the right time, and he was hot in a way that didn’t need much help. Short dark hair, broad shoulders, and a face that got cuter the longer I looked at it.
Mendez glanced at me over her drink. “You fighting next Friday?”
