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I’m going to bed. Be safe driving home. Flick Savage’s ear for me. Love you. X
“The old ball and chain?” Savage inquired.
I set my phone aside, leaned across the table, and flicked his ear. “That was from Willa, you dipshit. And she only texted to say she was going to bed and to be safe getting home.”
Savage made annoying kissing sounds.
“Ah, I get it,” I said finally.
“Get what?”
“You’re jealous.”
“Fuck you.”
“I knew it. You’re jealous that I get to go home to my hot wife, and that she cares enough about me to want me to be safe.”
I wouldn’t brag to him about the fact that I’d get to crawl in to bed next to her and then slide into her raw, without a condom. We kissed and told about one night stands; those nameless women didn’t matter. But there were things that were meant to stay between a man and his woman once it got serious.
“She is hot,” Savage said. “I’ll agree with you about that.”
If any other man called my wife hot, I’d be ready to lay him out.
But this was Savage. There was no jealousy about Willa on his end. There never had been.
“What do you need, brother?” I asked softly. “I mean, really?”
He cracked his knuckles. “I need a good fight.”
With a sigh, I downed the last of my drink. “Let’s get to it then.”
Two hours later, I was turning down the street toward home, toward Willa. My jaw was bruised, my knuckles were scuffed, and adrenaline was still coursing through my veins.
It felt good. Really good.
I parked my bike and cut the engine. I took a deep breath as I got off the motorcycle, wincing from my battered ribs.
Over the years we’d fought each other to blow off steam, but never with the intention of actually hurting each other. It was better that Savage fight me rather than go out looking for trouble, and we both knew it.
Speaking of trouble…
I saw Dylan sneaking out from around the back of the house. He didn’t see that I was waiting for him out front.
When he turned and saw me, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Hey, Duke.”
“Dylan.” I chin nodded. “Little late, isn’t it?”
“Not that late.” The kid stood taller as if it would somehow protect him.
“You ride your motorcycle here?”
“Yeah.”
“Where is it?” I pressed. “Because if you were invited to girls’ night—which is what Willa told me was going on—that would mean you would’ve parked your bike right outside the house. And it’s not there.”
When he didn’t reply, I said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I should really get home,” Dylan said. “It being late, and all.”
