Page 27 of Already Callin’ You Mine

8

JACE

“Where you at?”

“Behind the at.”

I groan. Audibly. Long and hard so that there is no room for any kind of questions about how I feel regarding my best friend’s answer. His stupid, stale, pedantic answer.

“That joke wasn’t funny when Mrs. Grupposo told it the first time in eighth grade English, and it’s certainly not funny now.”

Owen snickers, getting way too much enjoyment out of my reaction. It was exactly what he was going for, I’m sure. He was sitting right next to me in class that day Mrs. Grupposo snarkily replied to someone’s inquiry with that comeback, using it as a platform to lecture—errr, educate—us on when it is and isn’t appropriate to end a sentence with a preposition.

Apparently where you at is not one of those times. Hasn’t stopped me from using it.

“I’m south of Tifton on seventy-five,” Owen replies, mirth still filling his voice. “Why? Whatcha need?”

I slam the door of my truck behind me, clicking the button on the fob a couple of times to make sure it’s not only locked, but extra super locked.

“Just got back into town; gonna grab a beer at Pour Decisions.”

“I’m on duty for at least another half hour, but can meet up with you after. How long you gonna be there?”

I glance at my watch as I reach for the door. Four fifteen. Meaning that even if Owen starts making his way back up toward town now, it’ll be five-thirty before he’s here. Then again, it’s not like I have anything else on my to-do list for tonight. Might as well hang out at my older brother’s taphouse.

“’Til I decide it’s time to eat.”

“I’ll text you when I’m about thirty minutes out. Good deal?”

“Good deal.”

I hit the end button, slipping my phone into my back pocket and yanking the door open. A blast of cool air whooshes past me, sending a chill up my arms. I shake off a shiver, squinting as I walk inside.

I’m so ready for a beer I can taste it. It was a long trip—a good one, but a long one. Seven schools in eight days. A total of eighteen classes. Including three training sessions, certifying fifteen new Hayes Personal Safety trainers. Those are my favorite sessions. Working with people who are interested and passionate about helping others, teaching personal safety and self-defense techniques that are easy to understand and perform.

“It really just depends…”

A soft, feminine voice wafts through the air, my ears perking up, the melodic sound sending a different kind of shiver ripping through me. One that goes straight to my groin.

“I personally think that having both of you on camera is the way to go, but if one of you is more enthusiastic than the other, we can make pretty much anything work.”

My dick twitches, the sweetness almost too much to handle. Until I realize that I know that voice.

And it shouldn’t be making my dick do anything. Other than maybe wilt.

“I’m down for whatever. Just let me know,” Brandt Rawlins, Milo’s best friend, business partner, and now brother-in-law says.

“That makes me so happy to hear,” Presley coos. “It’s nice to have a team not push back.”

Wow…that’s a jab…

My eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the bar, Presley’s brown hair shining under one of the overhead lights from where she’s perched at the rough cut bar. She hasn’t turned around or even slightly glanced this way since I walked in, so I know she doesn’t know I’m here. Didn’t stop her from taking a swing at me though. That’s low—even for her.

Then again, I don’t know why it surprises me.

Maybe because my dick seems to have a mind of his own and is hoping she turns around so we can see those gorgeous blue-gray eyes.

“Not everyone is willing to potentially make a jackass of themselves online in the name of free publicity,” I comment, weaving my way through the tables toward the bar. I don’t bother to hide the bite in my voice. She knows exactly how I feel about this stupid social media push.