Page 33 of Stick Fight

“She broke off the wedding and needed a place to stay.”

“That’s good of you, man. I’m glad you were there for her. If there’s anything you need.”

“Thanks,” I say. “She’s coming back to Boston with me.”

His head rears back. “Holy shit. That’s…uh, I didn’t expect that.”

“It just sort of happened. I need to get her out of here tomorrow without her ex seeing her. She doesn’t want to speak to him. Things aren’t good.”

His shoulders stiffen, instantly going into protective mode. “Is he threatening? I can call security.”

“No need, but I might need you tomorrow. Maybe a back door out of here.” Who knows if that bastard is watching the front or not.

He claps my back. “Yeah, man, consider it done.”

Feeling a measure of relief with that, I take another sip and as plates of food are delivered to the table, we all fall into conversation, talking about old times back home as we eat. My thoughts, however, keep straying to Gabby. I hope she gets herself something to eat and has a nap. It guts me to think she’ll be all alone in the room while I’m on the rooftop celebrating tonight. Maybe I can sneak out early, or maybe?—.

“Ohmigod.” A shriek cuts through my thoughts and I turn to see a group of girls pointing.

“I think that’s for you,” Easton laughs, as he lifts his glass toward Rip and me. “I might be older and wiser,” he reiterates. “But I’ll never be as famous, or popular as you two. I’m okay with that. I have a beautiful woman I can’t wait to marry. One of these days, you’ll both understand that.”

Rip and I both groan. “Not happening,” I shoot back and lift my glass.

“Same,” Rip says, and the guys laugh.

I turn toward the girls and they take that as an invitation. They come racing over, and Rip and I doing our part, we stand and start giving autographs and taking selfies. A cute girl with long dark hair opens her shirt, and Rip goes to work on signing her breasts. I don’t know why, but when it comes to my turn, it suddenly feels wrong. Not that I’m going to stop it. I don’t need the guys questioning me. I can’t let anyone know about Gabby.

“Ohmigod,” One of the girls shrieks again, and this time it cuts through my brain, reminding me I might have drank too much last night.

Last night…

Jesus, why can’t I stop thinking about it?

“Is that Cassian St. Pierre?”

Cassian St. Pierre.

Cass.

I spin, my nerves on fire as I search the restaurant and see a tall, model thin man with chiseled cheekbones and slicked back hair scanning the room. My feet engage before my brain, and I take one step, only to stop when a big hand grips my arm. As the girls scurry off to meet him, my gaze flashes to Rip’s.

“Easy, buddy.”

I stare at him for a split second, the events of last night, Gabby’s plea for me not to get involved racing through my brain. My shoulders relax, and I nod. “Okay.” I put my hand on his back. “Thanks.” Shit, I could have done something there I would have regretted, something that could have led that douche bag to my room, to Gabby.

“There’s a bee farm down the road. We can snatch a brood box and open it in his room.”

I laugh when I realize he’s kidding. Only he doesn’t laugh with me. Shit. I shake my head. I should have known he was serious. I grew up with the guy and know better than to put anything past him. “You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.”

“We’re not doing that, Rip. Besides, how would we pull it off?” Wait, am I really considering it? Jesus. No, of course I’m not. I’d never hurt bees.

He winks. “My grandfather owns this place, remember?”

“He’d kill you.”

Stop thinking about it, dude.

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