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“Yup.”
“I strongly doubt that…” I mutter.
Brittany acts like she can’t hear me or if she can hear me, she wants me to know that she doesn’t give a fuck about my opinion of her crush.
“You are going to help me Fletcher,” she says. “Let’s go. I’ll call dad when the Bills game starts, so he doesn’t have to miss his precious Josh Allen.”
She twists me up in a million fucking knots.
“Sure thing, Britt.”
I might help her tonight, but not the way she thinks. Britt saunters off to the truck after giving her dad a kiss on the cheek. I help her into the passenger side of the black Chevy Silverado but when I jump into the driver’s seat, Britt has her nose wrinkled.
“It smells like a woman in here.”
“Must be mistaken.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever Fletcher. Everyone knows the Sweeney boys are players. Keep your secrets, Fletcher.”
“Trust me, kid. Ain’t any secrets here.”
“Ew, don’t call me kid. I’m twenty now and I take care of my dad now, not the other way around.”
“You’re still a kid to me.”
Brittany purses her lips and gives me an annoyed look. “Not a kid. I’m twenty.”
“You think you’re all grown up, but you aren’t. Trust me. I’m thirty-five.”
“You’re a cop in a small town where a parking violation is considered a big deal. That’s not the real world.”
“I’m a cop in a town and in a place that doesn’t like cops. I went from Fletcher the quarterback to Fletcher, the guy nobody wants to talk to ‘cause they all smoke weed or pop pills. And I’ve seen shit. I’ve seen overdoses, bloody fights, dead bodies… I’ve seen shit.”
I sound like a fucking idiot trying to impress her, but I can’t suppress the ape part of my brain that pushes me to prove to her I’m bigger and stronger than any other guy who could want her. She seems to accept my proof of badassery.
“At least you have the truck,” Brittany says, a mischievous expression on her face. She’s so fucking pretty. I didn’t know her mama well but everyone who did said she was the most beautiful woman they’d ever met, regardless of race. She turned heads and so does Britt. It’s a pity she doesn’t see how beautiful she is ‘cause she keeps chasing douchebags who wouldn’t know how to handle a woman like her if she came with a goddamn instruction manual.
“Yeah. I got the truck.”
But no wife. No kids.
“And clearly you have a girlfriend,” Britt says. “Or it wouldn’t smell like perfume in here.”
“Don’t have a girlfriend.”
She gives me a stubborn shrug. She doesn’t believe me, but it’s true. We get to 281 Bowling, and it’s packed.
“There’s Rob’s truck,” she announces excitedly, edging forward in the passenger seat. It takes every sane bone in my body not to slam on the brakes and take us the fuck out of here. I don’t want Rob Wheeler catching a whiff of her tonight and whatever hare-brained plan Britt has… she’s only gonna end up hurt.
She doesn’t deserve to get hurt by a douchebag like him. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt by anyone. Brittany has the biggest fucking heart of any girl I know and she deserves real fucking love -the real fucking thing.
* * *
Chapter4
Just A Friend
Brittany
