12. Wyatt
WYATT
Zero. Fucking. Chance.
My pulse hammered as I stalked across the dance floor toward Lark and Royal fucking King.
From the second she walked into the Grudge, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
She wore cutoff jean shorts that showed off her smooth, toned legs and casual high-top sneakers, but that wasn’t what drew me in.
It was my shirt. She wore my flannel, cropped short and tied in a knot.
My blood ran hot for her, and a flash of her grin as she shot me down that night on the porch ran through my mind.
I’d also jerked off a shameful number of times to the image of her perfect ass as it slid in front of my face when I’d rescued her from the dune.
Lark had come to the bar alone and seemed content to be a happy observer. She probably didn’t realize it, but she’d positioned herself squarely on the east side of the bar—King territory.
I pictured her smiling down at my kid as they walked away together, and every cell in my body protested.
It wasn’t until Royal sauntered up to her with his lazy smirk that my blood began to boil. Lark was new in town. She didn’t know that by being friends with us, she’d been claimed as a Sullivan.
Being a Sullivan meant that the generations-long feud drew distinct lines in the sand. It was more than the stupid pranks. Years of backhanded deals and a muddy history meant the Kings couldn’t be trusted and Lark was ours.
I wasn’t a caveman. I didn’t intend to stomp over to them, pound my chest, and haul her over my shoulder. Though the thought of her perfect ass right next to my face again made my palm itch to smack it.
I dragged my hand down my face, and my feet started moving. Jesus. What the hell am I doing?
Before I could even come up with a plan, I’d inserted myself right in front of Royal and Lark.
Lee and Duke were posted up right behind me, their arms crossed and legs planted wide.
I smirked, knowing they’d have my back if this thing went south and we ended up brawling— again —in the middle of the Grudge.
“She’s not interested.”
Royal only tipped one eyebrow in my direction and dismissed me with a laugh. Lark slipped from her seat, but her small frame barely came to our shoulders. She was squarely in the middle of two grown men having a pissing contest.
“Hey, Wyatt. What’s up?”
The muscles in my jaw worked, and I flexed my fist. I lifted my chin. “Oh, he knows what’s up.”
Lark sidestepped between us, and some of the fire in my gut died down. She couldn’t be this close if things got physical. It wouldn’t be safe. The Sullivans and the Kings had had hundreds of scuffles in the past, most ending with black eyes and sometimes a broken bone or two. I flexed my fist.
“Yeah, GB. What’s up?” Royal tossed around my high school nickname like I gave a shit the town wasn’t creative enough to come up with something other than Golden Boy after my football career took off.
I rolled my eyes and then squared my shoulders to him. “Lark is with us.”
He only nodded his smug fucking face. “Is she? Seems she sat on our side. Maybe she’s with us.”
“You know I’m right here, right?” Lark was clearly annoyed that we were talking over the top of her head, acting like she wasn’t standing right between us. The scowl on her face was almost cute, had I not been containing my simmering rage at Royal trying to claim Lark as a King.
The tension boiled up around us, crackling in the air as someone stood behind Royal to back him up. More eyes were drawn our way, and murmurs began to float through the bar crowd.
This was not going to end pretty.
Lark threw her hands in the air. “You know what? I’m out.”
Shoving the both of us in the chest to push past, she sailed toward the front entrance. Watching her walk away let the wind out of my sails.
I lifted my chin at Royal. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
Royal only scoffed and leaned against the bar, then signaled to the bartender for another drink. “She’ll come running once she realizes she’s caught the eye of a King.”
Goddamn, I wanted to land my fist at his jaw. Just once.
Duke’s hand clamped on my shoulder. “It’s over. Let’s go.”
Duke and Lee steered me back toward the table where we’d been sitting. They both sat back down, but I remained standing, my eyes trained on the entrance to see if Lark would come back inside.
I owed her an apology for acting like a child fighting over a toy. She deserved better than that.
“That’s a fucking shame.” Lee shook his head before swiping his beer bottle off the table and taking a deep pull. “Would have been a fun little tussle.”
Duke shook his head at our grinning little brother. “You’re an idiot.”
Lee’s grin only widened. He was always ready and willing to back up a fight or end one—especially one with the Kings.
“So what was that about?” Duke asked, motioning toward the door.
I swiped my hand across my face. I glanced toward the entrance. Lark was long gone. “I gotta run. I need to check in on the guys, and Tootie’ll be back early with Pickle in the morning.”
Duke let his question hang in the air. He already knew the answer. Together we eyed the Kings from across the bar. They didn’t seem to be watching us, so the likelihood of me getting jumped on my way out was slim.
Duke only nodded as I said my goodbyes and pushed out the front door of the bar.
The summer air had become stickier as the June temperatures climbed higher and higher. Even the lake breeze was still. I looked down both ways of the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lark before she disappeared into the night.
She was gone, but I knew where to find her.
I needed to explain myself. Apologize for being a dick and ruining her night out.
The drive home was quick, and the light was still on in her apartment. I climbed the rickety stairs and made a mental note to get to work on fixing those before she broke an ankle.
I had raised my fist to knock when the door flew open.
Lark stood, hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised. “Can I help you?”
Jesus, she was stunning when she was pissed. I wasn’t expecting that. My mouth was dry at the sight of her flushed cheeks and the wild look in her eyes.
I scrubbed my hand at the back of my neck. “I owe you an apology.”
Lark’s eyebrows pinched down, and she dropped her hands and sighed in defeat. “Oh. Well, that’s no fun.”
Confused, I just looked at her.
“I was ready for a good fight, but then you showed up”—Lark’s hand flicked between us—“looking all sad and sorry. I can’t fight with you now.”
Lark crossed her arms and pouted. I couldn’t help but laugh. That woman was ridiculous.
Charming.
Dangerous .
“Look, I don’t know what got into me.”
Sure I do. Royal was moving in on something that was mine , and I didn’t fucking like it.
I cleared my throat and my errant, utterly ridiculous thoughts. “Royal can be a pain in the ass. He didn’t need to bother you, but I didn’t think about the fact that maybe you didn’t mind him... you know, talking to you.”
A slow smile played on her lips. “You were jealous.”
I shot her a blank stare, hoping like hell she couldn’t see right through me.
“Well.” She sighed. “Come inside before someone drives by, accidentally looks my way, and throws you into a jealous rage.” She liked to tease, and while I wasn’t completely unhinged, the thought of Royal driving up to her apartment was enough to further sour my mood.
Shoulda hit him.
Lark moved from the doorway, and I glanced back at the house across the driveway.
Through the living room windows, the dull glow from the television meant the guys were still up, probably watching some late-night show.
After tonight, I didn’t want to leave things awkward with Lark, so instead of doing the right thing—saying good night and walking away—I walked inside her little apartment.
It was like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed in the small space. There was even the old hunter-green recliner that Lee had lost his virginity in. I pointed to it. “Hey, Lark?”
She turned to look at me.
“Don’t... sit in that chair.”
Her eyebrows crept up her forehead before she laughed. “Ooo... kay.”
Shaking her head, Lark walked to the fridge, and her face disappeared as she leaned inside. I had another perfect view of her ass as she bent over to reach for something. When she straightened, my eyes flew to the ceiling.
“No Beer Thirty, but I do have some day-old peanut butter cookies.”
“Alice?” Alice made the best peanut butter cookies in Remington County.
“Big Barb, I think?” Lark shook her head. “I swear I can’t keep up in this town.”
I laughed. “It gets easier with time. But I’ll warn you. Big Barb likes to smoke while she bakes, so sometimes you get a nice little ashy flavor baked right in.”
Without breaking eye contact, Lark took two steps toward the trash bin and tilted the plate, dropping the entire contents into the garbage. “Noted.”
My laughter came free and easy. It was uncomfortable in my chest and sounded a little rusty, but it also had a strangely freeing feeling right behind it.
“You look far less grumpy when you laugh.” She took one step forward. “The little crinkly lines around your eyes come out, and I find that very handsome.”
Lark was in my space, breathing the same air, and my hands found her hips.
“That’s called being old.”
Her smile widened. “Debonair. Dapper. Weathered.” She gave a little nod of approval with each word.
As her breath moved over me, I stopped thinking. I reached up, wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her into me, crushing my lips to hers.
I swallowed the little shocked moan that pushed through her lips as I devoured her. Her mouth opened for me, and her back arched as I leaned into the kiss. Lark’s arms wound around my neck, and one leg hitched up.
God, she tasted bright and amazing and altogether irresistible.
My hand found her bare thigh at my hip, and I squeezed.
I ran my hand up the back, feeling the smooth skin of her curves as I poured myself into that kiss.
I reached down, grabbed the back of both thighs, and pulled her into me as she wound her legs around my hips.
My hands found her ass, grinding her against my cock as the denim of her jean shorts stretched.
I stepped forward, pressing her against the countertop as my mouth moved over hers.
When her hand went back to steady herself, a glass toppled over, spreading water across the counter and soaking her shorts before rolling to a crash on the floor.
It broke apart, and I took a step back. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Lark swiped a hand across her swollen lips before she hopped down. “No, it’s fine.” She pulled a kitchen towel from where it hung near the sink and dropped it on the water.
She looked around, a little shell-shocked. Then she swiped her hands at the back of her jeans while I bent down to scoop up the broken glass with the towel and soak up some of the water.
I shook out the glass into the garbage can as she quickly picked up the rest of the mess.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
She shook her head with a slightly dazed smile. “No, it’s all right. Just a broken glass and a wet ass.”
My chest rose and fell, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I needed to leave. If I didn’t, I would be dangerously near to closing the space between us and putting my mouth on her again.
All over her.
“Good night, Lark.” I quickly retreated from the shrinking apartment and barreled down the stairs.
I didn’t have the balls to look back up at her before I stormed across the driveway and into the house. I only lifted a hand in greeting at the three boys playing a video game in the living room and closed myself behind my bedroom door.
What the hell was that? What was I thinking? As if I don’t have enough on my plate.
I had no business acting like a jealous idiot at the Grudge and then making the situation a million times more awkward by mauling Lark in her own kitchen. To me, it had been clear that she wasn’t interested in sex when I’d invited her inside my house and she turned me down.
I was pissed at myself for the total lapse in judgment. What if I’d taken it too far? Was my plan just to rail her against the countertop with three college kids within shouting distance?
I ran my hand over my face. I needed to pull my shit together. I needed to focus. Get my head in the game.
Lark was only passing through, and I was doing everything in my power to plant some roots for Penny. That all hinged on a winning season for MMU, which meant the three kids currently vying for the FIFA World Cup in my living room were also my responsibility.
The cold shower did nothing to cool the blood coursing through my veins. So what if I convinced myself that jerking off to the way her trim little body fit against mine was better than the alternative. Lark Butler meant chaos and complications.
Trouble was, even after I came to the image of her body pressed beneath mine, I still couldn’t shake her.
Something had to be done.