Page 48 of Junkyard Dog

The other part of her had been glad to have a built-in reason they would never be more than what they were. Because as long as they could never be more, she could continue to rationalize away the attachment that crept into her thoughts more and more frequently.

Their time was limited, and she was a little more than a blip on his radar until he moved away, resettling in another city or country while he moved on to the next target.

It was a harmless fling, her first experiment in a growing hookup culture.

He was a pretty package. The fact that he was intelligent and funny and compassionate was merely a bonus to his hotness during those times they weren’t locking lips.

And now the countdown was on.

She was prepared.

Mentally, at least.

Her heart was struggling to understand the concept.

*

Alex ran hishand through his hair before he crossed his arms and leaned back against his SUV, his sunglasses hiding his eyes as he scanned the lot for Bo. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, smiling while he read over Charlotte’s rambling text about who would be at the Washout that evening, who Alex was supposed to bite his tongue around, and who he could pull alpha on.

“If you and your twin have nothing better to do.”

He and his twin had a lot to do. But he couldn’t think of anything better than seeing Charlotte again.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Responding with a quick hint at which outfit he was hoping she’d wear, he slipped his phone onto the front seat and continued to watch the lot.

Three women exited the bus depot, two of them tight to Bo’s sides and the third a step behind the group, her expression hard and angry.

“Alex,” Bo called out, disentangling himself from the women and sauntering across the pavement. “Do we have room to drop these lovely ladies at their hotel?”

He shoved his hands into his back pockets as the group approached. “In a bit of a hurry, man,” he replied tersely. “Maybe another time.”

“Sorry, ladies, the boss has spoken.” Bo snorted, opening the hatch and tossing his bag in. He turned to nuzzle the neck of one of the women, holding out his hand as she whispered something into his ear and passed him her phone.

He looked away while Bo added a fake number to the woman’s cell, a move he himself was well rehearsed in. He flung his door open and got in. “All right. Let’s get going.”

With a feigned apologetic shrug, Bo strode around the SUV and got in, shaking his hair out as they pulled onto the street. “Holy fuck, Alex,” he groaned, snatching Alex’s ball cap from the dash and covering his face with it. “The redhead gave me the most painful, chafing hand job I’ve ever had just outside of Sacramento.” He adjusted himself and flopped back again. “Where’re we heading?”

“You’re crashing on my couch for a few days until the long weekend crowds leave,” he said, turning onto his street and slowing down.

Bo turned his head to the side and scanned the trailer park. “Any good meat around here?”

“The fridge’s full,” he muttered, pulling into his site and turning off the engine.

“Women, you fucking dumbass,” Bo grunted, swinging his legs out of the SUV and leaning forward on his knees for a moment. “Any doors I can go knocking on once my dick heals up?”

Alex gritted his teeth, unlocking his front door and flicking the air conditioner on. “Not around here,” he replied, his voice low. “It’s a quiet park. Got it?”

Bo pushed himself to his feet and slammed the SUV door, opening the hatch to grab his bag. “Yeah, yeah. No pissing in your own yard.” He looked across the chain link fence toward the road. “I need a run.”

Checking the time on his phone, he calculated Charlotte’s likely location in the park. “Fine. Toss your stuff here and we’ll drive over.”

*

Bo stood onthe top of the ridge and scanned the terrain, the heaviness in his face lifted with the promise of a run. Alex tugged his socks off and shoved them into his backpack, watching while his brother pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the rocks behind him, scratching at Hades’s marker embedded into the chest of each of the hellhounds. He frowned as he took in the numerous bruises and gashes peppering Bo’s skin.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, stripping his own shirt off and balling it up.

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