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“Just one. I’m only here to pick up some chicken wings. Seems she’s already craving crap food, so she thinks this one is a girl.”
“Congrats,” Matt said and they downed the tequila.
Logan slammed the shot glass onto the bar. “We’re excited. Abel’s a handful, but I’m looking forward to another one.”
Duke came over with a large takeout bag in hand. “On the house, Forest. Congratulations.”
Logan accepted the bag with a smile. “That’s got to be some kind of record. How’d you find out?”
“Twitter.”
“Are you kidding me?” Logan looked shocked.
Duke chuckled. “Yeah. I am. I heard it from Larry at the bank.”
Logan turned to Matt, shaking his head. “Who the hell needs Twitter when we have Larry from the bank?”
With a nod, Logan left and not more than five seconds later, Sasha Armstrong waltzed into the place. She was with a bunch of women, most of them hockey wives, and as soon as she spied Matt, she did a one-eighty and headed right for him.
Matt scowled. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sasha.
“Good luck with her,” Duke muttered, before moving to the opposite end of the bar.
Well, shit. Matt glared at the mug of beer he didn’t want. He should just leave. Yep. He was done. He pushed the mug down to Longwood his intention to leave, but Sasha Armstrong had other ideas.
“Not so fast,” she said sharply. “I want to talk to you.”
Matt frowned, more than a little annoyed. Totally wasn’t his night. He should have just stayed home.
“Sasha—“
“Don’t even bother. You owe me Matt.”
Matt stared down at the redhead, aware that they were generating the kind of attention that kept a bar hopping, and the local gossips happy. Seth Longwood for one, talked shit more than anyone he knew and the guy was listening with both ears.
There was a time—not so long ago if he was truthful—when Matt would have told Sasha to beat it and he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It’s not as if he and Sasha had been a ‘thing’. They’d shared a few drinks and not much else. If she had other ideas, that was on her not him. But as he stared down at her, he noted a few things—her arms were crossed and her stance was aggressive, but that didn’t jive with what he saw in her eyes. What he saw there was hurt. He’d treated her like shit and Sasha was right. He owed her the opportunity to lay into him.
“All right. Let’s go.” He moved aside and waited.
“Seriously?”
He nodded and she shoved past him, heading outside to the abandoned summer patio. White Christmas lights sparkled at them, strung from the beams overhead, and other than a few smokers huddled in the corner, they had the place to themselves.
Matt waited for Sasha to speak and it didn’t take long.
“You’re an asshole.”
Not entirely original, but altogether true.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked, her face growing red with anger.
“What do you want me to say, Sasha? I was an asshole. I can’t argue with you there.”
“I gave up an entire Friday night to watch you play hockey and I don’t even like hockey. And then you left me at this bar without even saying goodbye. Who does that? There’s a certain expectation when you start the night out with someone, and it doesn’t include being abandoned. You went after that Simon girl like a dog in heat and then walked out the back door. How do you think that made me feel?”
“Look, Sasha. I’m sorry. It was a dick move and I can’t say anything that will make it right.”
“That’s all you’ve got? One lame-ass attempt at sorry?” She looked like she was going to explode. Sasha threw her hands up into the air and took a step toward him. “You know what? Forget it. I should have listened when my girlfriends warned me about you. They said I’d regret it. Said that you’d screw me and that would be that.”
