Page 73 of Bad Boy for Hire
As a restaurant owner, a packed house was great news. But not today, when he’d planned on seeing May after work. Coming in had added one more task to his already bloated to-do list. If he could find another Cheyenne, he could lighten the load. That was a big if, though. She’d done the work of two, and since she’d managed restaurants before, needed little to no direction. Selfishly, he found himself wishing that her divorce could’ve waited until next summer.
After five hours of hustling, bussing tables, and keeping a smile on his face for the regulars, they cleared out earlier than expected. As the last patron left, he flipped the Closed sign with relief. He’d had a long day as it was, so staying open another hour-plus wasn’t happening. He said good night to his employees, made one last pass behind the bar, and began the short drive home.
He had texted May earlier to let her know tonight was off, since he’d had to work unexpectedly. What had gone down earlier today at Zest still bugged him, but he reminded himself that they’d ended on a high note. A smile, a kiss, and he was counting the sassy eye roll as a win. If it wasn’t so late, he’d text or call her now to tell her he was thinking about her.
He was halfway to talking himself into doing just that, on the off chance that she was awake and wanted company, when he turned onto his street. That’s when he noticed a shadowy figure walking on the opposite side of the road. It looked like a guy, hands in his pockets, shaggy head down, watching his sneakers.
“What the hell?” A flicker of recognition had him leaning forward to peer out of his windshield for a better look. When the headlights swept over the guy’s face, Xavier felt his own face go slack.
“Lynx?” At once, Xavier was shocked and pissed off.
He tapped the brakes, coming to a stop in the middle of the road, and then reversed. Window down, he called out, “Hey! What the hell are you doing out here?”
Lynx stopped walking and turned—not very steadily. “Xavier?”
“Yeah, what are you—” Then he noticed that his brother was cradling one arm and sporting a fresh black eye. His lip was bleeding. Before he thought about what he was doing, Xavier was gently shoving his brother toward the passenger side of the SUV. “Who did this? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was walking to your house. I stopped by Salty earlier today, and they said you weren’t working, so I went to another bar with a friend. Least I thought he was a friend. He was my ride.”
Xavier hadn’t even known Lynx was in town. “And the reason you didn’t take an Uber is…?”
“I’m out of money, okay?” Lynx practically shouted. He slammed the door and folded his arms over his chest.
“You don’t have six bucks?”
“No, Rich Guy. I don’t.”
Xavier gritted his teeth and started driving again. After a beat of silence, he asked, “You didn’t have any money when you went out tonight?”
“I did, but I lost it playing cards.”
Xavier tightened his grip on the wheel and stayed silent. Yelling wouldn’t help.
“It was supposed to be one game. Poker. A couple beers. He kept raising the stakes, talking shit, and I had a four of a kind, Xav. Four of a kind! It was a safe bet. He had a fucking royal flush. I know he cheated. When I accused him of being a liar, he snapped.”
Xavier glanced at his younger brother, who looked miserable sitting there, arms in his lap, shoulders slumped. He had to be in pain. “We’ll get some ice on that cheek.”
Lynx didn’t respond. Xavier didn’t push, even though he could think of a hundred things to say, most of it advice he would have ignored at Lynx’s age.
Things like: You shouldn’t drink so much, and Don’t gamble with guys looking for an excuse to kick your ass, and Don’t make friends with assholes. But arguing with a drunk was as effective as driving up to the Bluffs to shout into the wind.
Xavier lost his grip on his self-control the second they stepped inside his house. Well, he stepped inside—Lynx stumbled. Hands in his hair, he watched as Lynx sagged onto the sofa and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Xavier snatched his brother’s phone. “How come you didn’t use this to call me? Or call Mom or Dad?”
“Call Mom and Dad and let them know I got the shit kicked out of me? No thanks, I don’t need a lecture.”
“You’re going to get one, anyway. Next time you’re in trouble, call me.”
Lynx lifted and dropped his shoulder.
“What time did you stop in at Salty looking for me?”
“Around six.”
He took a deep breath and then reminded himself that he had been Lynx’s age once, and had made similar if not worse decisions. Although he’d never gotten his ass kicked after losing all his money.
“It’s irresponsible,” he said, unable to help himself.
