Page 19 of Rules, Roses, and Rivals
“Okay,” Frankie said, then she raked a hand through her hair before she pulled it back and up into a ponytail. “I do have some stuff to do. But I’ll text—probably after six, but hopefully before seven.”
“Works for me,” Bubba said. “Just let us know.”
“I will.”
It was like winning the goddamn lottery, I could breathe again because she’d agreed.
“Okay, move your car,” Bubba said to Archie and I caught Jake glancing from us to her and then back.
“You too,” I said, then moved around to get in the passenger side of Jake’s SUV.
I half-expected both guys to argue but after a seriously dramatic pause where they glared at each other, they nodded and retreated to their cars.
Bubba just shook his head before he turned to Frankie. Whatever he said earned a flicker of a smile from her then he was on his bike.
“I fucking hate this,” Jake said as he started the engine and the air conditioning started blasting.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.” Archie pulled away first, then Jake followed. I glanced over my shoulder as Frankie climbed into her car and slammed the door.
Leaving her there felt plainwrong.
“But,” I told him as I faced forward again. “She agreed to talk to us later and that’s something.”
“We need a plan,” Jake said and he cut out of the lot and across traffic with a little more recklessness than I cared for, but I got it.
He was pissed.
And scared.
I got the last really hard.
Chapter
Nine
BUBBA
We skipped the diner entirely and headed back to Archie’s place. Probably better to sort this out in private. I was grateful for the extra time on the bike, alone with just the music playing inside my helmet. We made an odd little caravan, Archie’s deep orange Ferrari followed by Jake’s bright yellow Jeep Compass with me and my rather ordinary bike bringing up the rear.
Archie slid his car into the garage while Jake pulled into the circular drive and rounded the fountain in front of the main doors. I parked off to the side in the shade of the trees. My hair stuck to my head when I peeled off the helmet. At least when I was moving, the air flow helped to cool me off.
After setting the helmet aside, I stripped off my backpack, then my jacket. Jake and Coop were arguing inside the still running SUV. I studied them for a beat, debating whether I wanted to interrupt or not.
Jake slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel three times, his face a tight mask of anger. Unsurprisingly, Coop didn’t flinch nor did he back down. Of all of us, he tended to be the most even. The front door opened and Archie stuck his head out.
“Did you guys get lost?”
“No,” I said, carrying my jacket and backpack as I headed inside to the blessed air conditioning. “They’re wrapping up some aggressive negotiations in the car.”
Archie slanted a look past me toward the car, rolled his eyes, then closed the door. “Come on, they know where the game room is.”
Not waiting for me, he snagged his own backpack and took the stairs two at a time. I caught sight of Jeremy, the Standish’s butler, house manager, or whatever his actual title was, standing in the archway separating the kitchen from the open formal dining room.
After lifting my chin in a brief greeting, I followed Archie up. Jeremy would let the guys in once they got done with whatever debate they were fighting out in the car. Probably better to let them sort it out there before we added more kindling to the fire between all of us.
Archie was in the game room, already pacing, by the time I got there. Three of the televisions were on, one paused mid-game, another played music videos, and a third mirrored Archie’s laptop screen. It had a webpage open to Instagram, featuring Frenchy’s page. Most of the recent pictures all featured Frankie.
“When did this shit happen?” Archie demanded as soon as I walked in.
