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"You have some explaining to do, Sheats!" a female voice that should not be here breaks me out of my haze, and I drop my hands from King like I'm doing something wrong. I spin around in shock and gape.
"What are you doing here?"
My gaze flickers back to King, who is scrambling off the bar, not taking her eyes off the brown-haired girl in four-inch heels, skintight jeans, and a white lace blouse. She commands this place like she has with every room since junior high.
"BK!" Kai's voice breaks our stare down as he envelops D from behind to lift and twirl her around.
"Ahhh!" she shrieks, but nevertheless laughs.
She's not mad that he called her by the name she forbademeto use under the penalty of being impaled by her Louboutin.
Once he sets her down, she regards me with her head tilted. "Wes?"
Hesitantly, I open my arms, and Den steps into me like she belongs there, which she did until recently. She used to be the only girl I let in or come close in years. Now, it feels like I'm cheating. I hug my best friend, peering behind me so I can see King. She stands with her back pressed against the glass shelves on the other side as if she is trying to get as far away as possible. Her lips are pursed, and I want to assure her that it's not how it appears.
Den pulls back, and with her heels, we're almost at the same eye level. She studies me intently before looking behind me. "Who's this, Sheats?" Her tone is neutral, but I know her better than anyone—the bulldog is in the house.
I throw Kai a pleading glance and hope he is not too drunk to understand what I want him to do. I need Den out of here so I can talk to King. Then, I'll have a conversation with my best friend away from prying eyes. Half the customers probably think she's my girlfriend.
Thank the sobriety gods, Kai is coherent enough to get the message and wraps his arm around Den.
"D, let's get you home and continue the party there."
She's ready to argue, but Kai has her halfway out the door before anyone can blink. I'm impressed.
Seeing it as my chance, I whirl around to address King when I find her in deep conversation with a customer. She laughs at something he says, and my fists ball at my sides.
I move closer, waiting for her to look at me, but she never does. What the fuck?
"King?"
She holds up a finger, signaling "one moment" without averting her eyes. The asshole flicks his gaze to me before focusing back on King's tits, and I'm coming close to introducing my fist to his nose.
Fuck this shit.
I stalk to our high top table. Dropping several bills on it, I grab my hoodie from the back of the chair and leave. As I pass King, our eyes connect for a fraction of a second, and all I see is the girl with the knife from last week.
Den isin the back of Kai's Rover with him in the driver's seat. I walk around and open his door. He glowers, probably hoping I won't embarrass him in front of D, but I don't give two shits. He is not driving my best friend while intoxicated. Usually, I couldn't care less. His tolerance is incomparable. Most of the time, he is the one functioning better than me with ten times the amount of booze in his system, but not tonight. I had barely two sips of my beer while he had…I lost count after four. Kai sighs dramatically and slides out of the SUV, walking around to the passenger side.
No one speaks as we make the short drive to the townhouse. I peer at D in the rearview mirror and am fixed with a glare she reserves for the Katherine Rosenfields of the world.
Fucking great. Now my best friendandmy girlfriend are pissed at me. Wait, what? Girlfriend? Do I even like King that way? Jesus fucking Christ, when did my life become such a mess again?
Kai is the first to exit with a huff and is up the stairs before I can turn in my seat. Den sits with her arms crossed, surveying me with a mix of curiosity and something I can't pinpoint.
"Can we talk upstairs?" I mutter, suddenly beyond tired. I just want to get to bed.
"Sure." She doesn't smile, but some of the hardness melts off of her.
She pulls a small overnight bag from the seat beside her as she slides out, and I frown. "Is this it?" I don't think I've ever seen her travel with less than two large suitcases.
"I'm heading back tomorrow," she explains as I take the bag from her.
"I see."I don't.
Upstairs, she aims straight for my bedroom, and I pause. Maybe I should take the media room. My neck instantly protests, remembering the one time I accidentally fell asleep on that tiny-ass couch. I had a kink in my neck for days and had to go see the team's physician.
Guess we're co-sleeping—not waiting for Thanksgiving. By the time I close my door behind me, she is in the bathroom, and I hear the shower come on.
