Meanwhile, I turned back to hear the latest. Their drama was way more interesting than mine, and to tell the friggin’ truth, I kind of wanted to see if Ashe would kick Brodie’s ass.
“I do want the baby! You know that. Jesus, Ashe. Let me explain.” Brodie paused, tilting her head to his. “After you got pregnant, well that fuck Hunter stole our thunder—getting hitched to JB. Then all the stuff with Rayce and Boomer. And . . .” Brodie dropped his voice. “I kinda wanted to wait until this little one was born so we could—I dunno—have our whole family at the wedding. You, me, Cara, the baby. My family.” Clearing his throat and blinking rapidly, he croaked out, “Lame. I know.”
“Brodie. Look at me. You foolish, foolish man.” Suddenly Ashe smiled, clear-eyed and in control of her emo-mess.
I couldn’t friggin’ believe it. Brodie had dug himself out of a deep hole. Again.
This shit could only be better with popcorn. And a fresh beer. From my couch.
Tucker had the right idea about this MC. Good fodder for a soap opera or a porno.
“Sorry.” Brodie bent his cheek to Ashe’s, his gruff voice resounding.
“Come here, handsome.”
I almost popped my head in the door, hearing my roadname.
“Not you, Handsome.” Ashe didn’t even turn her head to look at me, but she knew I was there. A trill of amusement sounded in her voice.
Brodie choked on a laugh, hugging her close. “Don’t you forget. I’m your handsome.”
“How could I ever forget?” She sighed. “And what you said about having our whole family—our family—at the wedding. That was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Yeah?” He asked, shock evident in his voice.
“Yeah.”
They kissed, and I ducked my head back—the sounds were evident enough.
Oh Christ. I didn’t really mean it about the porno thing.
“Brodie, you know we shouldn’t . . .”
“I know. Not here. You’re loud.”
“But you want to.”
“Hell, yeah. When have you known me not to want you?”
“But I’m huge.”
“You’re beautiful. You’re carrying our baby. You’re sexy as hell. All these curves.”
“I think you just want me because my boobs are enormous.”
“Ashe. Shut up and kiss me and tell me you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
I heard the sound of a zipper.
Then Ashe, “I could help you out, Brodie . . .”
“You first, babe.”
Fuck.
With all the hormones flinging around they’d probably fight about who got whom off first.
Yeah. Right.
I beat feet in a hasty retreat.
The hallway was officially off-limits after I exited.
I made a path through the dudes who had even fewer boundaries than me. Jumping on top of the bar, I whistled between two fingers.
All eyes turned to me.
“Yeah. Brodie and Ashe? They’re all good. But someone should probably crank the tunes because they might get a little loud back there, capiche?”
One big crisis averted, I hopped down, took up my pool cue again, and felt a hell of a lot happier than I had earlier.
I was even on a winning streak against Tail when he straightened from prepping for a shot that I hoped he’d scratch.
Running his pool stick across his shoulders, he aimed a glance at me. “Girlfriend’s back.”
I swallowed hard before allowing my gaze to find Shy just inside the door, her attention locked solely on me.
Chapter Nine
Shifting Gears
I THWAPPED THE POOL cue down, surprised it didn’t break in half.
Shiloh, again. The woman haunted me, day and night. I woke up from dreams of her, sweaty and frustrated and . . . really fucking hard for her.
Then I remembered there was no possible future. Hadn’t been even before Diablo started leaning on me for a fucking bank-load of cash.
And not to goddamn mention, Shy was a Friend. Capital F. For no fucking. Might as well throw in a P, too. For strictly platonic.
Kid-sister material. Not a woman to mess with. Definitely not make out with.
She really should look more like kid-sister material.
I groaned under my breath.
Growled out loud.
Lowered my hands to my jeans, slinging my thumbs in my pockets, bulking my shoulders.
I’d just play it frosty cool. Get her to go home.
Ask her to stop torturing me.
Or—better idea—just ignore the shit out of her.
She laughed in her sexy, smoky way, responding to something Sadie said.
Ignore.
She accepted a drink from Cole, and her fingers brushed against his.
Ignore.
Another pair of tight jeans molded to her legs and ass. That ass. Her shirt was soft and loose and skimmed what looked like nice juicy tits.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about tits and Shy in the same friggin’ sentence.
Her lips looked moist. Her skin glowed golden. Her hair was shiny and straight. Her eyes . . .
Dammit.
I forgot to ignore her more.
Her eyes—shiny as liquid silver—found mine again.
I tossed the pool stick aside . . . about five minutes after Tail called the game a wash after I forgot I was even supposed to be playing.