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“I don’t know.” I scrub a hand over my jaw, try to ease the tension.
“What do you think about calling her? Taking the direct approach? She comes from good people—they seem nice as hell. Highly unlikely she’s a scammer. Take it from someone who knows scammers. She’s probably just lonely.”
Juliet squeezes my hand, and my chest loosens a tiny bit. She’s probably right. Still, a part of me wants to jump back in my truck and head home. Mission failed and leave it at that.
“King?” She gazes up at me, the golden flecks in her eyes shimmering in the neon glow of the bar.
“Any chance you want to head home?” I throw the question out there. I can guess her response, but I throw it out there anyway.
“King Montgomery. No, absolutely not.” She steps forward, rests her tiny hands on my chest, hovering over my heart.
“You’ve got this. We’ve got this. We’re so close—let’s finish the job.”
I know she’s right. I feel it deep in my gut. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.
“Let’s have another drink, hang with our new friends. Really enjoy a night out together, not worrying about the past or the future. We’ll tackle those things again in the morning.”
“Deal.”
She rises on tiptoe, kissing me softly, and in that moment the world melts away. The stress, the uncertainty, all the negative bullshit. Gone, vanished with her touch.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I murmur against her lips. The corners of her mouth tip into a smile, her arms winding around me.
“I’m happy to be your ride or die, King. Always.”
My chest warms, surging with something I never thought I’d feel again.
Love.
This is exactly how I felt the last time we were together, before shit went south.
And I know I don’t deserve her, but I can’t help wanting her anyway.
Forever this time.
23
JULIET
King’s freaking out about this Lacey thing, I can tell. He’s been quieter than usual all night, which puts him at practically silent.
Not a great trait when we’re trying to gather info about his half sister. I’m attempting to chat up our new friends, but he’s not making it easy.
So I’m actually relieved when karaoke starts and Bree and Delaney drag the group away from the pool tables, claiming a table in the main bar area.
“Are you going to sing tonight, Delaney?” Bree flips through the paper songbook, studying the list of song choices as if they’re fine wine.
“I don’t know, maybe. Depends on how many drinks I have.” Delaney throws her head back, laughing, then takes another sip of her beer.
“What about you?” Bree swivels to face me, and my face flames.
“No. No, I couldn’t.” I stare past her at the stage, the DJ adjusting the microphone stand. Static feedback screeches through the room as he taps on the mic.
“Testing, testing.” His voice booms through the bar, and everyone claps.
Eager crowd.
“All right, y’all. First up we have”—he glances at his clipboard—“Frank singing ‘Friends in Low Places.’ Let’s give it up for Frank!”
