Page 113 of Sweet Shots

“And how long are you going to wait?”

“Long as it takes.”

With a heavy sigh, he gets to his feet. He rocks back on his heels, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. Adam is a good-looking guy. Married with two kids. Happy, according to him and Emmet. There’s something in his eyes that says different, but I don’t know the guy so I shouldn’t judge him like that.

“You’re my friend, but I’ve made it a habit not to work with difficult clients, and business-wise, that’s what you’re turning out to be. I’ll give you another week to decide what you want to do. If you don’t sell it by then, I’m taking it off the market and you can figure it out yourself.”

He leaves, his fancy shoes slapping on the porch steps. His Porsche speeds off down the road, and my eyes wander over to Mikah’s house. Still there. Still untouched. He hasn’t put it up for sale, nothing. It’s just sitting there.

How long is it going to take him to decide what he wants in life? Do I take his silence as an answer? Does he need me to push him more? Does he need more time?

I don’t know what the fuck to do. I hate not knowing what to do. Normally I just… do things. Whatever the hell I want. When I want. Now I don’t want to do a goddamn thing but lose myself in Mikah—but he isn’t here. And I don’t mean that in a sexual way, though my dick would be happy being inside him. He’s been a real sad fucker lately, but that’s not a top priority to me. I just want Mikah here. Even if he came back and didn’t talk to me, he’d be there. Close. Just next door. I could see him come and go, watch him through his windows like I used to. Creepy, yeah, maybe. But he did the same damn thing, and I didn’t mind.

I just… fucking miss him. I want him to come home.

I push up from the chair, grabbing the empty beer bottles to toss away. Once inside, I grab my keys and head out. I need to do something to keep my mind busy. I’ve had three beers over the last couple of hours and they aren’t doing a thing for me but pissing me off.

I drive into town and pull into a furniture store. Ever since I got a new couch, everything has been off. I got that couch for him, and now he isn’t there to see it or use it. But everything else reminds me of him, and maybe getting new shit will set my mind straight. Because yeah, even though I won’t tell Adam to take my house off the market, we both know that’ll happen.

My house isn’t huge, and as I look through most of the stuff in this place, I realize there is nothing I like. I’m better off getting something online. Heading out of the store, more annoyed than I was before, I drive through town, trying to figure out what the hell to do with myself. I’m about to turn around and head to Emmet’s bar when I spot it.

Exactly what I need. Perfect.

I turn into the car lot, because I need something new. Fixing the inside of my house didn’t pan out, so I guess I’m getting a new car. I think this may be the equivalent of women cutting and dying their hair after a breakup. People say that’s dramatic? Not really sure what this is then…

Ridiculous, maybe. But whatever. There’s no stopping me now; I’ve made up my mind.

I’m hardly out of my car before I’m greeted by some buffoon in a blue suit and pink shirt. I’ve got nothing against guys who wear pink, I love it myself, but it’s the fake ass smile on his face that’s killing me.

He offers a hand. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m so glad you stopped by today.”

“I’m not here for any bullshit.”

He nods curtly. “Of course.”

“I know what I want, and I want you to make it happen with no small talk or sales-pitchy shit.”

“Absolutely. We’ll get right to the point. So, what is it you’d like?”

“What colors do you have the M4 in?”

“Coupe or convertible?” he asks, thankfully with less excitement. I’m not sure if he’s happy or pissed that I told him to calm down, but either way, I’m about to make him a ton of money so he probably doesn’t care.

“Coupe.”

He grins, waving me over. “Follow me,” he says. “We got a shipment of these just this morning, so you’ve got the pick of the litter.”

We head into the large building that has way too many windows. I get why they’re there, but hell if I’d wanna clean these suckers. We walk through the main room, down a hallwayand through a door. There’s a showroom back here, and the cars are arranged in staggered parking, all of them shiny as hell.

“Take your pick,” he says, waving his arm out for me to go ahead of him.

I walk in, moving down the row of cars. They’re all so nice, but I stop in front of the dark grey one. I narrow my eyes, then look back at where the dark blue one is. I like them both, but this grey one is speaking to me. I turn to him and point to the car.

“This one.”

“Fantastic choice,” he says, sounding impressed. “I have that one with a black interior or a blue and black interior.”

“Blue and black?”

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