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Perfect. Another admirer of Dad’s. “Hal, stop.”
He doesn’t listen. “Yeah. Her dad. The Fox, right? Laurel worries herself sick about that album they were working on together—”
“Hal, shut up!” I kick him in the knee under the table.
“Ow!” Blackmore twists sideways and rubs his knee. “What did I do?”
I must have missed and kicked him instead of Hal, but I’m not sorry. “You did plenty.”
He shrugs. “That’s fair.”
The gesture is so genuine, I struggle to stay mad at him. How does he do this to me? I need him to stop.
“I love the way you two get along.” Hal keeps digging his grave. “You should start dating.”
Nachos keep disappearing into his mouth as if he hasn’t just thrown me under the bus. No, under a train. No, out the air-blasting door of an airplane. Into open space. My lungs take in only restricted amounts of oxygen, my pulse threatens to tear my heart apart, and I’m moments away from fainting from mortification.
Blackmore’s gaze and mine lock in a staring match that combines everything between my shock with Hal openly saying something so ridiculous and Blackmore’s… He cocks one eyebrow, nudging me to react first. Where does he get off?
At the same time, a long-forgotten emotion stirs in the depths of my heart. Curiosity. What’s he like when he’s not playing it cool? Maybe that never happens. Maybe he’s always like this. Kind of funny and not easily offended. And as brazen as it gets.
I choose to leave Hal’s insane remark without a comment and slump back against the cushioned leather seat of our booth. Blackmore takes a slow sip of his water, but I catch his eyes darting toward me. He’s studying me just like I’m studying him, also curious. He’s probably thinking how lucky he is to be having dinner with me, scheming how to get closer to me. That’s what everyone else used to do. Hal can tease me all he likes, but it’s still the truth. The only thing guys want from me is Dad.
“Give Blackmore your number,” Hal tells me between bites. “He’s the perfect kind of a maniac for you, and—”
“I will slap you,” I warn him. “I swear I will.”
“—Blackmore needs someone to help him get over an old flame—”
“Come on, Bjornson.” The man in question chuckles. “You know damaged goods never sell well. At least praise me a little.”
“I did say you were aperfectkind of a maniac.”
Since Hal refuses to be quiet when I ask him nicely, I throw my drink in his face.
He starts in his seat, Blackmore sucks in a sharp breath, and they both stare at me, cautious and astonished.
“Is this what you wanted me to leave the house for, Hal? To make fun of me?” Heat burns behind my eyes, but I manage to swallow the lump in my throat. “And you.” I round on Blackmore. “Enjoying my pain turned inside out for you? Having a good time?”
Hal wipes the water from his face with a bunch of napkins. “Laurel—”
“Enough.” I slide out of the booth and walk out of the pub.
Track 4
Buckle Up
Jace
Bjornson gets up to follow Laurel, but I fear he’ll make everything worse.
“I’ll get her.” I shove him back into his seat.
He frowns, so I explain, “She’s only mad at me, but she feels betrayed by you. Let me bear her anger first.”
Bjornson sighs but doesn’t argue.
Laurel hasn’t made it far. Ginger hair bouncing against her back, she stomps down the sidewalk, away from the pub’s parking lot.
