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“No worries. Just thought I’d mention it. Either way, drive safe.”
I snorted. “Yes, sir.”
His smile was X-rated. I could have sworn he knew every dirty thought churning in my brain, and he wholeheartedly approved.
No, that was me going off the rails.
Reg squeezed my shoulder and headed toward the group of kids running like hooligans. He waved Emmett over, kneeled so they were eye level, and held his palm up for a high five. Then he tousled Em’s hair and made his way to the flag football game without so much as a peek in my direction.
Okay, so…I was imagining things.
Damn, I really needed to get laid. Stat.
CHAPTER 7
WAYLON
The teary good-bye at the airport was horrible. Zero stars, would not recommend to my worst enemy.
My nephew clung to my knees sobbing as my poor mother cooed softly in his ears, telling him how much they loved and had missed him. The kid adored his grandmother, and he must have heard the sorrow in her voice. That empathetic streak sobered him. Em might not have been thrilled with the circumstances, but he didn’t want to upset her.
Emmett swiped his forearms over his wet eyes, then tilted his chin proudly and hiked his backpack on as if he were about to embark on a strenuous expedition. “Th-thank you, Uncle W-Way. I had a lot of f-fun.”
I dropped to one knee and crushed him to my chest, kissing his head before he could wriggle away. “Me too, Em. I’m gonna see you soon, you know. And you can visit me any—”
“When?”
“Real soon, buddy. I’ll come see you next month. Tell your mama hi for me, ’kay?” I hugged him again and stood, lowering my voice for my mother’s ears only. “How’s Misty?”
My mom spoke in a strained Southern lilt. “Better. I’m serious. But we take it day by day, honey.”
“Is it safe for him to—”
Mom kissed my cheek and patted it gently. She smelled like her favorite Ralph Lauren scent, spearmint gum, and home. “Of course it’s safe. And we’re there for him, Waylon. Always will be. Don’t you worry none.”
I waved as Mom and Emmett headed hand in hand to the security line and stayed until they disappeared from view. Then I trudged to my truck and slumped behind the wheel.
Fuck. Just…fuck.
I veered out of the parking lot, marveling that the twangy guitar riff from an old blues song on the radio so perfectly fit my maudlin mood. I thought of Reg’s number on my cell but instantly knew it was a bad idea to text him. I didn’t feel like having a friendly drink with the straight single dad I had a crush on. I was liable to say something I’d regret, like, “I think you’re hot and I’d really love to lick your abs. Thoughts?”
Maybe not. Besides, I was tired, low-key depressed, and hungry.
Food was a good idea, though, and since I was in no hurry to go home to an empty house, I drove downtown and found a gastropub on Main Street that served delicious burgers and artisan draft beers. I idly thought of Reg’s killer burger boast and caught myself scanning the restaurant from my corner of the bar for the tall silver-fox cop.
There was no sign of Reg. Just as well.
I took my time, chatting with the buff bartender who flirted shamelessly with me and the pretty blond next to me.
The blond was waiting for her boyfriend, a hockey player. He was supposed to meet her after practice, and he was late. That led to a spirited conversation about all things hockey, a safe topic in these parts. My companion vacillated between roster shakeups in the upcoming season to Vegas’s hot new forward with his thick thighs, abs for days, and that face.
“Oh, my God. He’s gorgeous,” she gushed.
The bartender agreed, gliding his pinky over mine as he collected my empty glass. And just like that, my motor was running.
The boyfriend showed up soon after—a big dude with wide shoulders, hands the size of a catcher’s mitt, and yep…he was good-looking, too. Suddenly, getting laid seemed like a very good plan indeed. But the blond was taken, the bartender was busy, and it was time to move on.
I paid my tab, surrendered my stool to the hockey player, and fist-bumped my new friends. I knew a place a few blocks from here.
