Chapter 12
“Barmills, Isaac, and make it a double with a Guinness.” I sat down heavily on the bar stool at my dad’s bar.
“Double? Rough day, son?” Dad asked, claiming the seat next to me.
Isaac slid my drink across the polished bar top. Picking up the glass, I tossed it back, welcoming the burn.
Dad said nothing when I put the glass down and reached for the Guinness. I would give anything to be able to get drunk, but I had to be back at the source of my current black mood’s house in the morning, and being hungover while using a scroll saw meant I felt like I was carving my brain in two.
“Oh, he’s just having trouble with a certain little newbie.” Wade plopped down on the vacant chair on my other side, slapping me on the shoulder.
“I’m not having trouble,” I denied belligerently.
Phoebe wasn’t trouble…she was…she was…I didn’t know what the hell she was.
Gorgeous. Funny. Sweet. Stubborn. Difficult.
Hot. An image of her in a pair of black yoga pants and matching tank top that outlined all the curves of her sweet little body popped into my head.
All of those words and more added up to the one word I could use to sum up Phoebe Lebonaire: frustrating.
“I thought things were going well? Did she change her mind on parts of the build-out? Your mother said Phoebe seemed really happy with what you came up with.” Dad looked questioningly at me. “She also mentioned you agreed to coach the Maple River Bats.”
I wasn’t sure how much I loved my parents still talking about me as if I was a kid.
Don’t get me wrong, I was forever grateful that when they divorced, they remained good friends, so I never had to choose between them.
I could come and go between each of their houses as I pleased.
I had them both at every event. We had all our holidays together, even after Mom married Harris, who grumbled about it.
I was incredibly grateful my parents were the way they were, even if it was annoying as fuck when they talked about me behind my back.
“I did. And the reno is fine. Phoebe is fine. Everything is fine.” I signaled for Isaac and ordered a double order of hot wings, hoping to put an end to any further discussions on Phoebe.
“Do you need extra help at her place?” Dad persisted. He got up, rounding the bar to grab a couple of water bottles. He plopped one down in front of me before getting Wade his beer. It was probably for the best. Another shot of whiskey and I was liable to do something stupid.
“I’m free next week to come and help,” Wade offered.
That’s what I loved about him. No matter how many hours he worked or what he had going on, if I needed him to come and break his back, he was there.
“I might take you up on that.” Having someone else there might be exactly what I needed.
Dad grabbed the hot wings from the pass window and slid them in front of me. I picked one up, chewing the meat off quickly.
“If the reno isn’t the issue, what’s the problem?” Dad didn’t let up, and I wished he’d go serve other customers.
“I don’t have a problem,” I lied. The last thing I wanted to do was sit in my dad’s bar, which was full because the Braves were playing the snotty Yankees, and admit how I fucked up by telling Phoebe that she could move back into her house, which resulted in two weeks of me listening to her, laughing with her, spending time with Lock—and didn’t that just start to make me question my thoughts on having kids—and slowly getting to know her.
It seemed every day she came more and more out of her shell. At least with me.
No. My problem was that, on top of all of those things, I had to fight the daily urge to grab her by the neck and push her up against a wall before devouring her mouth.
My mind, the dirty fucker it was, watched her stir cookie dough this morning, and all I could think of was taking the spatula and spanking her ass until her flesh was as red as the spatula.
It had been such a short time, but the woman fucking lived in my head. I couldn’t count the nights I’d woken up, my hand wrapped around my cock as the dream images of her tormented me.
Phoebe Lebonaire wasn’t my problem. Me and all the filthy things I couldn’t stop thinking and dreaming about doing to her were.
“I see,” Dad said cryptically, assessing me like he used to when I was a kid, making me feel like he could see right inside my head.
“Do you see the group down there who want a refill?” I pointed with the chicken wing in my hand to the group that was now inundating Isaac, hoping Dad would take the hint. A large hand snatched the chicken wing out of mine. “Do you fucking mind?” That’s when I noticed my basket was already empty.
Wade polished off the wing. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry!” Dad and I said in unison.
“Well, isn’t it my lucky night?” The sultry voice of Janelle Demerti interrupted us.
Dad gave Janelle a nod, put in a triple order of wings, and then headed down the bar and as far away from her as possible.
“How are you doing tonight, Ty?” She put a hand on my shoulder, bumping me with her hip.
Janelle was a pretty, stacked woman with dyed blond hair that actually suited her.
Her svelte body was shown off to perfection in the tight Atlanta Braves T-shirt she wore.
Like always, her jeans were pasted on and so low I knew all I had to do was slip a finger inside and I’d find her bare pussy right there.
We’d hooked up a couple of times in the past, but it was never anything serious.
I might have kept at it if I hadn’t found out she was friends with my ex, Brittany.
There was only so much of that crazy ride I could take.
If not for being in Dad’s place of business, I’d have ignored her. Instead, I said simply, “I’m good.”
“Who you here with tonight, Janelle?” Wade looked around.
“Oh, I came with Annie and Dakota.” She gestured to her two friends in a booth in the back, who gave us both a wave. Wade, the ever-affable bastard, smiled and waved at them. I didn’t even bother.
“Well, have a good night.” Seeing my wings were ready at the pass, I found myself stuck when she rested her arm on my shoulder.
Wade, the bloodhound, got up, heading to collect the wings he better fucking be sharing.
“Oh, Ty,” she whined in the way that made my ears pop. She leaned heavily against me, her breasts cushioning my arm. “It’s been so long since we…hung out. You and Wade should come and join us, and we can have some fun. You know, like old times?”
“Thanks, but we’re good here.” In fact, we were great here where I didn’t have to deal with her and her catty friends.
“Why, Ty? It’s been soooo long since I’ve seen you.” Her pout made her look ridiculous. We were thirty, for God’s sake.
“Maybe we’ll join you in a bit, Janelle.” Wade plopped the wing basket down on the bar.
What the fuck? I clenched my teeth. Wade’s face held that mischievous look that had gotten us into trouble more than once, and I thought seriously about kicking his ass. I didn’t know what he was up to. He liked Janelle and her merry gang of bitches even less than I did.
“Yay!” she squealed so loudly in my ear, I winced. Damn. I was going to be lucky if I wasn’t going to be deaf. Several of the patrons around us jerked, glaring at Janelle, who bounced on her feet in excitement, completely oblivious.
Snatching a wing, I took a bite. The sooner I ate, the sooner I could get the hell out of here.
“How about you head back to your seat, and we’ll join you in a bit?” Wade suggested, pointing her in the direction of her friends.
“See you soon, boys.” Janelle kissed my cheek so fast I didn’t have time to react, returning to her table. I stiffened when a few of the regulars made catcalls. I stared right at them, which had them quieting downright quick.
Polishing off my wing, I picked up another one and tore into it, chewing furiously.
“Dude, you’re super intense tonight.” Wade faced me.
The catcalls around us died a quick death, only to be followed by the subdued chatter that told me all I really needed to know.
Fucking great.
“You’d be the same if you knew your name was going to be making the rounds come morning.”
Wade demolished a wing. “Aren’t you the same guy who had a threesome with the cheerleaders from Thomaston Prep during halftime at the senior football game in high school?”
I grinned. I had done that. At the time, I’d thought it made me cool to flaunt my sexual proclivities.
Banging two girls at a game where anyone could have caught us but didn’t was the highlight of my senior year.
I did have enough brains to keep my antics out of Maplehurst. But not far enough away, apparently.
The conversation with my mom and dad the next morning was something I didn’t want to repeat. Ever.
It was a hell of a lesson, and I’d learned right then to clean up my act and keep my dick out of the gossip mill. Mostly, I’d been successful.
“We’re not seventeen anymore,” I argued.
Green eyes and a sweet smile flashed in my mind, turning the wings sour in my mouth.
You’re being a moron. She’s just a client. And your mom’s friend. Why the hell do you care if she knows you’ve fucked half the town or not? You don’t care, I told myself, chewing on a wing so hard that I cracked the bone in half.
“Uh-huh.” Wade picked up his beer, taking a sip.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I dropped the broken wing onto the plate Dad put in front of me.
“Nothing, man.” Wade grinned, and I wanted to punch him.
Instead, I swiped the wing basket from in front of him.
I knew he was up to something when instead of fighting me, something he did often over food, he slapped me on the back, getting to his feet.
“Let’s take those and go make some women happy tonight, brother. ”
He walked off, heading for Janelle and her two friends.
“Asshole,” I muttered, polishing off a few more wings. I wasn’t going over there. Nope. My ass was comfy right here. I stared at the game on the large screen hanging in the corner above the bar. Balls were thrown, bats cracked, and I saw none of it.
When my wings were finished, I got up, putting the basket and plate into the bin Dad used for dirty dishes. Turning, I found Dad leaning against the bar in a moment of calm, studying me.
Wade’s booming laugh was followed by a group of giggles could be heard over the noise of conversations and cheers when a home run was hit.
“What?” I raised a brow at Dad.
“Nothing, son.” Dad’s smile was cryptic. “Nothing.”