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The mean-eyed chick just grinned, all knowing and shit. Smug.
Sabrina sighed, looking defeated for one second, which wasn’t a typical Sabrina Burford thing. She’d picked up a drink and set it down before motioning to the girl. “She’s from a sister sorority.” Her mouth closed and it was obvious she had no inclination to say anything more.
The ‘friend’ didn’t care. Her grin widened and she half leaned over the table. “Hi! I’m Kit. Kit Carlson.” She gave one pause before the Cheshire smile came out. “We have a friend in common.”
I wasn’t getting a good feeling here. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Sabrina glanced my way, saying quickly and almost rushed, “She’s from Fallen Crest.”
Fuck.
Miller went still before turning my way. He was real even-keel when he said, “She came in with a friend of mine. Zeke Allen–”
Jesus.
I’d heard enough.
I was up from the table with my phone in the next half second. I was dialing and the line was ringing by the time I got outside.
I hoped she wasn’t going to ghost me tonight. I hadn’t called all week. She hadn’t called either, so I was hoping that was the extent of it, but me actually calling–fucking pick up, Mara.
“Hello?”
She sounded tired.
“I’m at Pete’s. You got at least one Fallen Crest friend here and judging by the look of her and Miller, I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy shows up–”
“Who?”
“Kit Carlson. Hanging with Burford, a Kappa girl. Miller’s here, talked about a guy named Zeke Allen.”
She was quiet before she swore, low and under her breath. “They’re idiots who think they’re friends.” She swore again. “I’m coming.”
“You need a ride?”
“No.” But she hesitated before saying that. That told me she somewhat wanted me to come and get her. That said a lot. A whole week. We’d not had sex in a whole week.
“Hey. Uh.”
I frowned, hearing the change in her tone. Self-conscious.
“What?”
“Is Zeke alone?”
I cursed but answered. “He ain’t even here, yet. There someone you’re expecting with Allen?”
“God, I hope not. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Mara.”
“What?”
“Do you need backup?”
She swore a third time. “Funny thing is, both of them are supposed to be my friends. But I have no idea how to answer your question because the sad fact is, I might need support.”
We ended the call, but I lingered, leaning against the bricked wall.
Did not like how the one girl was looking at me, and really didn’t like how Miller looked away when I called the ‘friend’ out. He knew. That said everything.
The door opened. Barclay and Atwater came out at the same time a Jeep pulled up. There were shouts, laughs, some curses. A guy who thought he was something special had just pulled into Pete’s parking lot.
The driver was muscular. Built, probably five eleven. Blond hair. There were a few other guys with him, but one drew the attention. Blaise DeVroe. I would’ve recognized him no matter what because his face was splashed over the NCAA soccer news every other day. I did not like how he moved forward. Lean. Muscled. With intention. His eyes were intelligent. As their friends went inside without a second thought, he drew up short.
His gaze was on me.
I saw the spark of recognition.
He knew who I was. He also knew I was fucking his ex.
I gave a small nod before straightening from the wall. “Know you.”
Barclay and Atwater shared an uneasy look.
I played hockey. He played soccer. One of those sports leaned heavily on the violence whereas the other didn’t.
He raised his chin up. “Not here for you.”
“Then why are you here?”
He gestured inside. “You’ve not met Zeke yet. I have a dumbass friend.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“Look, I have no problem throwing down if that’s the situation here.”
“Is it the situation?” I was facing him square because I also had no problem throwing down. He was registering that, and he was doing it with some surprise.
He nodded, slightly, edging back a step. “Not here for that reason.”
“Also aware of that.”
His eyes flared again.
The subtext was that he just told me he wasn’t here to get back into Mara’s pants, or to keep someone from not getting in there. I let him know that I was aware. That’s what surprised him.
“Not sure of our problem here.” His head cocked to the side, a glimmer of a frown there.
“Our problem is that you’re here. I don’t want you here.”
I was mostly an easy-going guy. Mostly. Here was the other side of me. Get me on the ice, and I was a dick of epic proportions. This guy, he was being introduced to the hockey side of me. Mara was already messed up because of her mom, because of me, and now an ex here? It wouldn’t help.
A car pulled into the lot, parking in a spot near us.
A second later, Mara was hurrying for the door, but drew up short seeing our situation. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Seriously, Blaise?”
