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Logan paused, took a drink of his beer and then set the bottle in onto the bar. “She’s not doing too well from what I hear.”
Again, Shane shrugged. “Not my concern.”
“Keep telling yourself that buddy.”
Shane scowled and tossed back the remainder of his drink. Shit, Duke hadn’t given him another. “Who are you? Doctor Phil?”
“Nope. I’m just saying what I know. The two of you obviously have unfinished business and maybe you need to face that shit now before it festers.”
Shane wasn’t in the mood for sermons or warnings or any of that crap. The past week had been bad enough. In a town the size of a peanut, he had more than earned the title of resident bad boy. And now he had solidified the crown by taking away the reformed princess from the local good boy. It didn’t matter that he’d had no part in Bobbi’s fleeing the wedding, the fact that she’d ended up at his place afterward—had been seen leaving his house in his fucking T-shirt and not much else—painted him with the same brush he’d been trying to avoid since he had returned home.
The black one. The one that spelled trouble.
A loud round of laughter drew both of their eyes and Shane watched Bobbi toss back a shot of…Holy Christ, was she really going to start with the tequila again? He ground his teeth together. Hadn’t she learned anything from The Hard Rock?
He caught the frown on Billie’s face as she looked at Logan.
If Bobbi kept this up she would end up going home with someone else – again. Not that he cared. As he’d told Logan, Bobbi wasn’t his concern. Not anymore.
Not even if his guts burned hot at just the sight of her.
“I should leave,” he said abruptly.
“What happened between you two? After you found her at The Hard Rock.” Logan’s gaze was fixed on the beer in front of him, fingers slowly peeling off the label.
Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, Forest. Are we gonna share our feelings? Is that what we’re going to do? Do you want to hold hands and sing Kumbaya?”
“Nah,” Logan replied with a grin. “I’ve heard you sing.”
All around them conversations rose and fell, traveling along the ebb and flow of energy in the room. People laughed. And snorted. And argued. And sang along to whatever the hell the dance shit was that Duke had spewing from the bar’s sound system.
“Nothing happened. I brought her back from Chesterfield because if I didn’t she would have ended up back at some loser’s place getting a hell of a lot more than she’d bargained for. It was the right thing to do. Anyone else would have done the same thing. She crashed at my place. End of story.”
“So, there’s no chance that the two of you…”
Shane shook his head, his thoughts darkening. “Not a chance in hell.”
They both glanced up as Billie slid between Logan’s legs and Bobbi hung back a few feet. Billie looked uncomfortable. So did Logan.
But not Bobbi. She tossed her hair around like she was a filly in a race and slipped her leather jacket off. The blue silk shirt she wore clung to her curves and Shane noticed more than a few heads swivel around for a peak. The top buttons were undone, leaving the soft swell of her breasts on display and he had to stop himself from reaching out and yanking the gap closed.
“Seth, your tongue just fell out of your head. I suggest you put it back in. Not exactly a good look for you.” Shane eyeballed the man as Seth’s chest heaved and he turned back to his buddies, a loud guffaw following a few moments later.
“I thought you were out of town,” Bobbi said slowly as she stepped up to the bar. She was now inches from him and her scent filled the air around him. It was cold as hell outside and she smelled like summer. Hot-as-fucking-hell-summer.
Why couldn’t she smell like dead, rotted leaves? Or stale musty crap? It would make things so much easier for him.
“Nice to know you’re keeping tabs on me,” he answered.
“I wasn’t,” she said quickly and paused. Then she licked her lips.
Why did women always feel the need to lick their lips? It’s like they wanted men to focus on them. To think of things they shouldn’t be thinking of. Of places those lips shouldn’t be. Things those lips shouldn’t be doing.
“I wasn’t keeping tabs. Billie t
old me in passing you were out of town.”
“I was,” he offered and tossed some cash onto the bar to pay for his one and only drink. He was ready to leave.
