Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Ryder
Max completed a turn today, just like I predicted he would.
A few days ago, I would’ve gloated about that in front of Hayden, taking pleasure in the way it’d make him cross his arms and purse his lips.
Today, that feels like a dick move. Something that would make his brown eyes look sad instead of furious.
I don’t think I can stomach that, and not because I hate people giving me sad eyes in general.
It’s him specifically I don’t want looking at me that way.
I don’t know what that says about me. Or him. All I know is I have no fucking clue what to do next. Except get a drink.
My buddy Deacon’s at the bar when I get there, sitting at the far side opposite the door with a pint in front of him. He spots me right away and waves me over, and while I’m not really in the mood for company, since he was there for me during some of my darkest days, I can’t ignore him.
He arches a brow in my direction when I order a beer.
“You, too? Seriously?”
“I mean, I haven’t seen you since you started your community service gig,” he rubs a finger along the bridge of his nose, “and I kinda feel like if I hadn’t turned a blind eye to the drinking, you might not have ended up in trouble.”
“Are you saying you’re the one who poured alcohol down my throat?”
“Might as well have,” he snorts.
“Look, we’ve never bullshitted each other before, let’s not start now. It’s not your fault I tried to drive drunk, and it’s not your job to keep me sober. I’ve got enough people trying to do that.”
“Carter?”
“Among others,” I grumble as the bartender, some guy I don’t recognize, puts a glass in front of me. About time Lennon got some new people to help out in here.
“I’ll agree to not forcing you to stay sober, but I’ll have to step in if you’re on your way to getting shitfaced.” He lifts his glass to mine as if we’re making a handshake deal.
“I haven’t been shitfaced in weeks.”
“Yeah?” He sets his glass back on the counter. “Guess that makes my end of the deal easy.” If he's curious as to the reason why, he doesn’t let on, which is one of the reasons I like Deacon. He gives me the space I need to sort through my shit at my own pace.
“Seen Blake around?” His question earns him a death glare.
“Trying not to.” I swirl my finger in my beer to reduce the foam. Why do all the bartenders here need practice with the tap?
“This isn’t gonna become one of those him or me situations, is it? I don’t want to pick sides in this thing. Especially considering I’m pretty sure you know he’s not responsible for what happened to Chase.”
So much for giving me space. “I’m not some fucking teenage girl who needs a posse to blindly follow me.”
“So, that’s a no? I can hang out with him without you losing your shit?”
“Have I lost it yet?”
He shakes his head with a little snort. “No, but only because you haven’t been hanging out much.”
“Wasn’t sure you’d noticed that with it being tourist season and all.” There aren’t a whole lot of single women in town, but fresh powder brings fresh faces. Or as Deacon would say, fresh pussy. I’m sure he’s been busy.
“It’s preseason until Christmas,” he says without missing a beat, “but I could go for a warmup round. You?”
“Do you ever not think about getting laid?” Deacon’s single-minded focus on getting his dick wet is refreshingly normal, making it hard to keep the amusement out of my voice.
“What else am I gonna do around here after the sun goes down?” He lifts a shoulder and takes a sip of his beer, casually scoping out the room for his next target. “There.” He sets the glass down and gives a little up-nod toward the other end of the bar.
Following his gaze, I spot a head of rich brown hair framing creamy porcelain skin. The same combination that comes to mind every time I think about taking a drink. Hayden.
Wait, that can’t be right. Deacon chases pussy, not cock.
“You need glasses? That’s a guy.” My voice is surprisingly level given the possessive rage coursing through me. Can’t wait to unpack that later.
“Yeah, and?” Deacon arches a curious brow in my direction, as if he didn’t just confirm breaking news.
My whole body goes stiff as his words sink in. First Blake, now Deacon? Granted, Deacon’s only lived here a few years so it’s not like he’s been keeping this a secret for a lifetime, but the fact I’m only learning about this now still stings. “Since when do you do guys?”
“Since college.” He must notice the white on my knuckles from how hard I’m clenching my fist, adding, “It’s not a secret, it’s just never come up. I haven’t picked up a guy since moving here.”
“Not sure why you think you have to pick up a dude before you mention that little factoid.” I shake my head dismissively. “Especially given that pretty much all our friends are into dick nowadays.”
“It’s kind of been a taboo topic with you recently.”
“The taboo part was Blake lying to me for years, not who he fucks.” I slam the rest of my beer and signal for another.
“Yeah, I know. But even though I haven’t been lying to you for years, you haven’t exactly been in the right head space to hear I like the occasional dick, so I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
“I’m in the right head space now?” I accept my fresh beer and take a calming gulp.
“Not even close.”
“Why open that door then?” I side-eye him suspiciously.
“I told you, I haven’t hooked up with a guy since moving here. Gotta scratch that itch.”
Horny bastard. I want to be pissed at this latest “omission” from someone who’s supposed to be my friend, but after the past several days I just can’t find the energy.
I roll my eyes with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. Just not that one.” I nod in Hayden’s direction.
“Yes, that one.” He nudges my arm with an elbow, nearly causing the beer in my hand to slosh out of the glass. “Guy looks like he needs a good fuck as bad as you do. You can be my wingman.” He waves at Hayden, who’s eyes dart briefly to me before landing skeptically on Deacon.
“Trust me, it’s futile.”
“He’s straight?” Deacon scratches his head comically.
“No clue.” I shake my head slowly back and forth, careful to keep my eyes focused on my beer instead of him. “But he’s my jailer. And an ice prick. He’ll probably hate you as much as he hates me.”
“Ooh, let’s find out.” Deacon shoots Hayden a coy little smile as he slides over a chair, leaving one empty between us. His invitation is clear, but it’s not until I glance up to meet Hayden’s lingering eyes that he starts heading our way. Fuck me…
He’s hesitant, unsure of whether he’s making the right decision by coming over. I know he isn’t, but I can’t bring myself to scowl at him and warn him away like I would’ve a few days ago. Part of me thinks he knows that.
Rounding the corner, Hayden gives me a tight smile as Deacon pulls out the barstool to my right. He extends his hand after helping my jailer get seated. “Deacon.”
“Hayden.” He takes it, and I grind my teeth together remembering how he refused mine when we first met. I’m not surprised to learn it’s only me he’s cold toward, but I sort of hoped he wouldn’t warm right up to Deacon.
“Can I order you your signature drink?” my horny friend asks as I swallow the urge to gag. Can’t he pick a different line? Frosty just stares at him blankly.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have one.” Deacon drops his jaw and looks at me over the top of Hayden’s head as if to suggest that’s my fault. “Everyone needs a signature drink.”
“What’s yours?”
Deacon gives him a sly wink. “Three-Legged Monkey.”
I’m expecting him to snort, or scoff, or maybe even storm off.
Instead, he laughs. Not some polite little chuckle to cover up the fact he’s secretly offended, which he should be, but a rich full-bellied laugh that makes my stomach tingle and has my chest feeling kind of warm.
Fuck, that’s a nice sound. I hate that Deacon can pull it out of him.
“What’s his?” Frosty tilts his head in my direction, the only sign he’s given since sitting down that he even knows I’m here.
“It was a Magic Boner Iced Tea, but now I think it’s more like Blue Balls.
” Deacon lifts his glass like he’s toasting me, proud of his little jab at my recent celibacy.
Hayden isn’t in on that joke though and obviously interprets it as unresolved tension between the two of us given the way he traps his lips between his teeth and ducks his head, which doesn’t hide the rush of pink flooding his cheeks.
I roll my eyes, trying to pretend like my cock didn’t just perk up at the sight of that little blush. Traitorous bastard.
Hayden lifts his head and clears his throat. “Well, I don’t have a signature drink, yet. What do you suggest?”
Deacon pretends to study him, eyes traveling up and down his body with calculated precision. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “I got it. Slutty Nurse.”
Frosty crinkles his nose like he’s unsure of what to think. “What’s in it?”
“Cherry brandy and white crème de cacao.” Deacon smiles behind his beer. He thinks he’s reeling Frosty in.
“Why that one?”
“I bet you could use a little fun after helping people all day.” He doesn’t even try to hide the innuendo behind his words. “Plus, you smell like cherries.”
“Almonds.” I take a gulp of beer as two heads swing in my direction, hoping neither of them were paying enough attention to hear what I said.
Idiot. Staring blankly toward the other end of the bar seems to fuel their confusion based on the silence growing around us, which suits me just fine.
The longer they second guess themselves, the better the chance is that they’ll start to believe they didn’t hear anything.
“Did I get it right? Can I order you a drink?” Deacon breaks the quiet.