Page 32 of Dealing Dirty
Micah crosses his thick arms over his chest, accentuating his pecs and biceps.
“And why would he do something stupid like that?”
I smirk at the man’s easy ability to get under Derrick’s skin.
“For starters, our customers are real tired of lookin’ at that big ass head of yours. Not to mention, I’m better with the ladies.” Micah’s playful gaze swings my way, and he puckers his lips.
Derrick slaps a hand on the tabletop before sliding his chair back with a long screech. “On that note, I’m getting a drink.”
Once Derrick is out of earshot, I thump Micah’s foot under the table. “Are you always so ornery?”
“Every day that ends iny, baby.”
I snort, drawing Derrick’s curious gaze from behind the counter, and dammit if I don’t blush at those quirking lips.
“Somethin’ goin’ on between you two?”
Slowly dragging my attention away from Derrick, I clear my throat. “Maybe you should try calling Jack again.”
I don’t plan to let anyone in on our little deal, even Micah.
Derrick comes back with a tray of frozen mugs and a pitcher of beer. He sets a frost-covered glass down for me and begins to fill it. Tingles simmer in my belly when his fingers brush mine.
“Thank you.” I smile brightly, an unbearable anticipation building.
Grabbing another glass, he sloppily pours Micah a beer. The amber liquid sloshes when he slides it his way without taking his gaze off me.
Micah’s dark hand wraps around the mug, which overflows with foam. I cover my snicker when he mumbles, “Thanks a lot, fucker.”
The front door swings open, making me jolt as the sound ricochets from every corner of the room. Afternoon light illuminates the room, blocking whomever walks in from view.
Micah and Derrick jump up from the table, acting as human shields, but I know by the way their shoulders droop that it’s Jack and Cassidy.
“Hey, guys,” Jack greets his friends. Peering around them as they step closer, he smiles. “Hey to you too, Jules.”
“What the fuck, man? You scared us half to death.” Micah steps away from me to wrap a hand around Jack’s, pulling him into his chest.
When Cassidy steps over to me, I stand and search her exhausted face. Deep circles are stamped under her brilliant green eyes, and her skin is leeched of nearly all its usual liveliness.
“Is it something with Bruce?” I ask, pulling her arms away from her and scanning the rest of her body for injuries.
Our heads swivel when the front door opens behind them, and this time, we collectively freeze.
Out from the shadowy doorway steps a tall, broad figure. One that’s been like a ghost around here, haunting the place with its presence and reminding us all that the dangers in this town go deeper than any of us could fathom.
His work boots scuff against the floor with every careful step he takes. The pants he wears are streaked and dirty, and his simple T-shirt covers his body snug enough to show off the planes of his tightly sculpted abdomen. Haunted deep-blue eyes touch our faces one by one, tortuously slow.
He stops just out of reach, keeping a safe distance.
Cassidy moves across the room before anyone can stop her, and when I get a good look at her face, it’s streaked with tears. She throws her arms around his neck, crying into his shirt.
Panic-stricken, Ben looks to Jack.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack says as his shoulders shake with joyful laughter. I’m choking back my own tears when he reaches out for his brother and Cassidy, wrapping them both in his big arms.
The emotion is palpable. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for Ben to stay away.
It’s difficult to watch. I know what it’s like to worry whether your sibling is alright or not. It’s a dreadful feeling that can’t be outgrown. From the mix of sadness and awe shimmering in the eyes of the man beside me, I know Derrick’s felt it, too.
