“Good idea,” Beck said. “Since she’s working for us and all.”
Jase swallowed a protest. She’s mine, not ours.
West rubbed two fingers over his jaw. “I’ve been meaning to ask... Are you sure it’s smart to have the little blonde firecracker hanging around the house all the time?”
No. “Why?”
“Why?” Beck arched a brow. “Did you really just ask me why? Dude. You nailed her sister.”
“So?” Don’t like the reminder. “You did, too.”
“So you both admit to being idiots. May we move on?” West grumbled, a surprising amount of frustration in his voice.
“Exactly,” Beck said, speaking over him. “The situation is complicated. And yes, I can roll with it. But can you? I’ve seen you, man. And I can’t believe I’m having to point this out yet again, but you watch Brook Lynn like you’re drowning, and she’s the only life raft.”
“You must be going blind,” Jase ground out. “I have never looked at anyone that way.”
“My eyes, like every other part of me, are working just fine, thanks. But if it’s the analogy that bothers you, I can give you a more palatable one. You look at that girl the way I look at her casseroles. As if there’s about to be a party in your mouth.”
West pushed his plate of leftover fries away. “I told you guys what would happen if you messed around with a Strawberry Valley girl. I told you, but you did it anyway. You’ve got no one to blame but yourselves.”
Beck flipped him off, and Jase threw a wadded-up napkin at him.
West held up his hands, all innocence. “Hey, we’ve all agreed I’m the smart one in our little band of brothers. Why the attitude now?”
“Your IQ might be higher,” Jase said, “but your street cred definitely sucks.”
“True that,” Beck said.
West laughed, the sound of it rusty. “Tell me you didn’t just true that me. Because if you did, I will have to deduct serious points from your street cred.”
“What do I care?” Beck spread his arms wide. “I’ve got points to spare.”
The two continued to argue good-naturedly, the tension draining once again, and Jase soaked it up, knowing there’d soon be another drought. This was something else he’d missed. This most of all. Smack-talking, enjoying the company of his friends. Smiling till it hurt. Just...being, no worries intruding.
The insults continued as they cleared their table and headed outside.
I’m kind of jealous of people who haven’t met you.
If ignorance ever goes up to $5 a barrel, I want drilling rights to your head.
A handful of bikers arrived, removing their helmets, locking up their gear. One glance, and Jase had them pegged as trouble-seekers. He’d encountered plenty of guys just like them in prison. They had a chip on their shoulder the size of a two-by-four and always had something to prove.
His assessment was soon confirmed. Just to be contrary, one of the younger guys stepped in West’s path, causing West to bump into him.
The biker snapped, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, man?” and shoved him.
West plowed into Beck, who plowed into Jase. Of course, all the bikers laughed as they gathered around their comrade in a perfect show of unity.
West rolled his shoulders, saying, “Instead of watching where I’m going—” his tone even, perhaps even anticipatory “—why don’t I teach you how to move out of my way?”
“I vote...yes,” Beck said with a cold smile.
West and Beck were not afraid to fight anyone. Even a group of anyones. And they were damn good at it. But Jase was better. He turned “dirty” into “downright filthy.” The only problem? His opponents tended to end up in the ER—or dead.
Fear of returning to the life he’d despised screamed: can’t risk it. He was so close to finishing parole. Proving a point by knocking the bikers down a peg or two would help nothing but his pride.