Page 55 of Junkyard Dog

“We met around two months ago.”

Whistling low, Bo cocked a brow. “So this is the chick you asked about.”

“Yeah.”

“You falling for her?”

“Can we drop it for tonight?”

Bo leaned back and closed his eyes. “Sure. But if you don’t end it soon, I’ll be taking care of it myself. Happy endings with white fences and green grass only exist in fairy tales, brother.”

*

Charlotte opened herdoor and stepped aside to allow Alex in. “You’re early.” Without a word, he extended his arms, a bag of takeout in one and three orange lilies in the other. She accepted the peace offerings, setting the food on the counter and rummaging through her cupboards for a vase. “Completely unnecessary, but thank you.”

He came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he dropped his head onto her shoulder. “Consider it part of my penance,” he mumbled into her skin, his lips grazing her throat.

Arching her head away from him, she opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, snipping the stems of the lilies and placing them in a vase. “Were you high last night?”

Alex’s arms tensed around her. “No.”

“You sure?” she asked, turning in place and looking up at him. “Max was just saying Bo was pounding the whiskey back like a pro and he thought maybe—”

“My brother’s a heavy drinker,” he growled, his eyes narrowing as he released her and crossed his arms. “Maybe Max should mind his business once in a while.”

Her brows shot up. “Don’t try and turn this onto him,” she snarled.

“Maybe if Max wasn’t always in bed with us, I wouldn’t.” He backed away from her, his shoulders rising a fraction. “Forget it. You’re right.” His eyes darted around the room, as though hunting for the exit. “Bo’s my brother. I know what he is and what he does. I don’t need anyone pointing it out, and I don’t need anyone discussing it.”

She took a step toward him, a pang of sorrow rippling through her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, reaching out to him. “I’ve been bit by this kind of thing before and I’m not handling it right, am I?”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t kneed me in the balls yet, so we’re doing okay,” he grumbled, reluctantly taking her hand. “What else do you want to know about last night?”

A litany of questions flew through her mind. “Did you sleep with any of them?”

“No.”

“Kiss?”

“No.”

“Touch?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes, dropping his hand.

He looked down for a moment. “You saw the pictures, I’m sure. I sucked lemon wedges from between some chick’s teeth. Licked a lot of salt off a lot of wrists attached to a lot of women.” When she opened her mouth to press for more, he continued. “Two of them tried to sit on my lap. Allison sent that picture, too.”

“Allison,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around herself.

He flipped out his phone and swiped the screen, angling it toward her. “Look through these.”

She accepted the phone and began scanning the texts and pictures, a tightness forming in her throat. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s nothing.”

He took his phone back, pulling up the photo of him sitting alone, hunched over his cell. Using his fingers to enlarge the picture, he zoomed in on it. “This is what I remember most about the entire night after I left you at the bar. Texting you and hoping you’d let me come home.” He cleared his throat. “Here. Come here.”

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