Drifter
He sat down on the other side of the room, in the little chair that he and Monster had found at a thrift store.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I went about this all wrong. I thought that Blitz sticking around would help make you feel more comfortable, Josie. I didn’t mean to sound as though I was demanding you stay with us, Blitz.
I have a big house with extra bedrooms. You are welcome to stick around and use one of them if you’d like to. ”
They decided to barbecue, and Monster got the grill going.
His backyard smelled like smoke and mesquite, the old grill working overtime as dusk settled in.
The backyard wasn’t fancy—but it felt lived in, safe in a way the house he grew up in never quite managed.
He planned to fix up the inside of the house first, and then get to work in the backyard, but his plans went to the wayside when things got too busy down at the funeral home.
What he needed was to hire someone to help around the funeral home, freeing up some of his time, and maybe that would be a good idea, not that Josie was living with him.
She’d require some of his time since he couldn’t expect Blitz to hang around town forever.
Monster shot him a look that could’ve killed a man. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
Monster froze; shoulders tense. The tongs scraped the grate as he slowly turned the burgers, buying himself a second. “Who?” he asked, playing dumb.
Drifter couldn’t help but chuckle. “Blitz,” Drifter said easily, like it wasn’t a bomb he’d just dropped between them.
“You think I don’t see it? The way you watch her when she’s talking, like you’re cataloguing every damn word.
Hell, I knew the second that I walked in the bar that you wanted her, man. ”
Monster didn’t answer right away. The quiet stretched, broken only by the hiss of grease hitting flame. Finally, he set the tongs down and turned, his stare sharp. “Yeah. I want her.”
Drifter nodded, no mockery in his face now, only the blunt truth of a man laying his cards on the table. “Good. So we’re not pretending anymore.”
Monster’s brows furrowed, that dangerous edge flashing in his eyes. “You think I’m gonna step aside so you can charm your way into her bed?”
Drifter smirked, but there was steel beneath it. “Hell no. I’m saying it’s not up to you or me. Blitz is gonna choose. And when she does, I’m damn sure gonna make sure she picks me.”
Monster crossed his arms, chest broad in the fading light. “Then we agree on one thing. She decides.”
Drifter pushed off the railing, stepping closer, his grin turning sharper. “She decides. But until then, we bring our best.” He tapped his beer bottle lightly against the tongs Monster still held. “No half-assed moves like offering her a place over the clubhouse to crash.”
Monster’s scowl bent into something that almost resembled a smile, fierce and dangerous. “Fine. And for the record, using Josie as an excuse to get her to move in here was a jerk move, too. But I’ll warn you now—I don’t play to lose.”
The two men locked eyes, tension thick but laced with mutual respect, the kind forged on the road and in blood.
The burgers hissed behind them, smoke curling into the night sky, the smell of char and challenge hanging heavy in the air.
Drifter thought it ironic that somewhere inside of his house, Blitz was unpacking her things, completely unaware that in Drifter’s backyard, a war had just been declared—for her.
Drifter’s kitchen smelled like grilled meat and smoke, the table set with paper plates and mismatched silverware.
He carried in a bowl of chips, setting it on the table just as Monster stomped in with the platter of burgers and dogs.
He dropped it down with a grunt, the sound more a challenge than hospitality.
“Eat up,” Monster said, sliding into the chair beside Blitz before anyone else could take it.
Josie sat next to Blitz, and Drifter took the last empty seat next to his sister.
He would think the whole scene very domestic—well, besides the fact that he and his best friend were fighting over the same woman, and she didn’t seem to have a clue about their feud.
“Would you like a beer, honey?” he asked Blitz, pulling one free from the bucket of ice he had them cooling in, and cracking it open for her without waiting for the answer. He slid it across the table with an easy wink.
“Gross,” Josie murmured under her breath, but still loud enough that they could all hear her. Blitz giggled and took the beer, nodding her thanks.
Monster’s jaw ticked. “She doesn’t need you waiting on her hand and foot. I’m sure that Blitz is a capable woman who can get her own damn beer.”
Drifter leaned back in his chair, smirking widely.
“She deserves it, though. I mean, she just drove my sister all this way. I owe her a little hospitality, don’t you think?
I never thanked you for going out of your way to bring Josie here,” he said, staring Blitz down as she took a swig of her beer.
Blitz arched a brow, her gaze flicking between them. “What’s gotten into you two?”
“Nothing,” they said at the same time, both reaching for the ketchup. Their hands collided, and neither man moved first. The plastic bottle bent between their grips, pressure mounting until Blitz reached over, snatched it, and set it down on her plate.
“Seriously?” she muttered, shaking her head.
Monster scowled but speared a burger, dropping it on her bun before she could reach for one. “Eat before it gets cold.”
Drifter wasn’t far behind, sliding the platter of hot dogs closer to her. “Or try one of these—better flavor, not burnt to shit.”
Monster’s head snapped toward him. “Nothing I cooked is burnt.”
Blitz took a bite, chewing slowly, watching them like they’d both lost their minds.
Drifter caught her look and softened his grin, brushing his hand lightly against her arm as he passed her the mustard.
Monster noticed, his eyes narrowing, shoulders tensing like he was seconds from snapping, but Drifter didn’t care.
They had both agreed to bring their A games when it came to competing for Blitz.
He couldn’t help it if he had a better game than Monster.
But Blitz broke the tension with a laugh, shaking her head.
“You two are ridiculous.” They both froze, and Drifter worried that she had already figured out their game.
He just hoped that neither of them had blown their chances with her.
No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. He hoped that he hadn’t blown his chances with her because that would suck—big time.
“You’re not ridiculous,” Josie said, looking between the two of them, “you’re both just gross.” Drifter knew his sister had figured out their game, but she at least hadn’t ruined it for them—yet.
Dinner went on, the clink of silverware and soft hum of conversation, but under it all ran the steady current of rivalry. Every time Drifter leaned close to ask Blitz something, Monster cut in with his own question. Every time Monster set something on her plate, Drifter offered her something else.
Blitz might not have known it yet—but the game had already started, and who the winner would be was completely up to her.