River was in total fake it ’til you make it mode. She smiled and laughed and complimented all the men on their sharp attire. She never met his eyes.
He needed her eyes. He wanted her to look at him. If she really loved him, why was she ignoring him?
Because he’d hurt her like the idiot he apparently was. Because he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
Bran, the only one brave enough to question the women’s attire, asked, “Hey, babe, do you think you guys maybe— didn’t realize how,” and here, his brother waved his big hand in front of his chest, “revealing your dresses are?” At Raven’s sharp look, Bran’s eyes went wide. Patrick would have enjoyed the moment if he weren’t in the middle of his own crisis.
“Am I too pregnant to be sexy on New Year’s Eve?” Oh shit, even Dad sent a warning look in Bran’s direction.
“No. No, my love. Not at all. You all look amazing.” Nice save.
“I will be reporting your inappropriate attire to your father at my earliest convenience, Miss O’Connor.”
Jo looked like a pin-free grenade. River, Raven, and Rowan moved to Jo’s side. All three women trained their eyes on MacGregor. River asked MacGregor, “Do you think Jo doesn’t look good, Honey?” Raven asked, “Do you hate the color? It’s gold, like your hair after all.” Rowan clenched his demise with, “Should I solicit several men’s opinions once we get to Wolves? Take a poll? Maybe you’re the only man who thinks Jo should change.”
The guard’s stare never wavered from Jo’s. Obviously admitting defeat, Thomas said, “Miss O’Connor is... beautiful. In the dress,” he tacked on quickly. His words loosened the stiff necks from all the women. “However, I will double my guard to ensure she has no unwanted attention tonight.”
Jo didn’t take her eyes off MacGregor when she asked, “So, by double my guards, what you really mean is, it’ll still be just you, but doubly annoying?”
“Correct.”
Jo sighed in defeat.
Damn. MacGregor was good. Patrick needed lessons— desperately.
His dad suggested they head out.
River never looked at Patrick.
* * *
After four hoursof watching River drink, laugh, and dance with her many admirers— her perfect tits perfectly visible with her perfectly hard nipples puckering her dress— Patrick had reached his tolerance level. Dad and Rowan disappeared forever ago to tour Grandpa’s memorial. MacGregor was hovering over Jo, who looked like she was about to explode from either anger or an orgasm. Take your pick. Bran had never let go of Raven. Ever. They were currently dancing toOklahoma Smokeshow.
James and Jane showed. Patrick hadn’t seen either of them for months. There was still stiffness between the two, but James made it very clear to anyone looking that they were together. Jane seemed withdrawn at first, but after Jo and the Byrne sisters hugged all over her, and Raven, he noticed, spoke separately to Jane, enveloping her in a warm hug, she seemed to relax.
The love of James’ life seemed to unfurl from her protective cocoon. James looked at Patrick and smiled. The first genuine smile he’d seen on the man’s face for a year. James drifted to the women, standing slightly back and to the side of Jane. Bran grabbed Raven’s hand again, sitting down, his wife in his lap, and MacGregor was crowding Jo against the bar where no one could accidentally touch her— but himself, obviously.
A brunette in what must have been ten-inch heels appeared in front of Patrick, blocking his view of River and interrupting his visual stalking. Annoying. Deigning to look down at the woman’s overdone face, Pat heard a red alert blare in his ears. Shit. He recognized her. A self-absorbed socialite near OKC that he’d fucked in a club over a year ago.
And as his luck was holding strong, Megan Thee Stallion’sFlamin’ Hottiestarted bumping over Wolves’ system, and River began dancing her way to her sisters, encouraging Jo and Jane to join. Raven pushed off Bran, busting some pretty impressive pregnant moves. Rowan had finally shown up from her ‘tour,’ parting ways with his dad, and Jo— she looked at Thomas, lifted a brow in defiance, and danced her way to the other women.
River’s eyes found him just asMiranda’ssticky tentacles attached to his chest.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
River closed her eyes briefly before taking a deep breath and turning from him.
The hurt on River’s face destroyed him. It was as though he’d slapped her, buthefelt the pain. Patrick watched in horror as she faked a smile and grabbed a man from the bar who’d been eye-fucking her for over an hour and took him to the dance floor.
Shit went downhill after that. River was dancing and gorgeous, as only she could be. Patrick’s anger and jealousy skyrocketed. Octo-Miranda was whispering in his ear to follow her outside, and— fuck him if he didn’t make the worst... the absolute worst decision of his life.
7
A FEW HOURS EARLIER.
It was New Year’s Eve, and Sam had his telephoto lens all polished. He planned on capturing the party at Wolves tonight. A few patrons here and there— average Joes. He also hoped to capture an O’Faolain in a compromising or unflattering position. If he mixed innocent pictures with salacious ones, the Tulsa World lifestyle editor wouldn’t be able to resist publishing them.
It took little intellectual deduction to realize Patrick O’Faolain was about to screw his personal life up. Hopefully, it would send the youngest son into a tailspin and embarrass his family. Small potatoes, obviously. Screwing with Patrick O’Faolain was a last tiny ‘screw you’ before he fucked their women over— literally.
