Page 43 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

Layla snorted, but I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what the hell she found so funny. This wasn’t a humorous situation. I was on the brink of losing my mind and going to prison for murder all in the same night. “Like a threat likethatis going to get anyone to come out of hiding.”

A growl worked its way up my throat just then, something wild and feral, a sound you’d expect to hear in nature before some poor animal at the bottom of the food chain was ripped apart by wolves. “Then I’ll hunt his ass down and drag him out by his hair,” I snarled, then started for the hallway.

Layla jumped in my path, placing her hands on my chest and trying in vain to keep me from moving, but I was a man on a mission—not to mention, I was a whole hell of a lot bigger—so trying to stop me was pointless.

“Jude, knock it off. You’re being ridiculous,” she grunted as she continued to shove at me, her socked feet slipping on the hardwood as she tried to find traction.

“Out of my way, princess. I’m gonna murder that fuck-face Baxter.”

“He’s”—she grunted again with exertion—“Not. Here. Will you stop? It’s like trying to move a freaking mountain!”

I jerked to a halt, the fog of rage that had been clouding my head mere moments ago evaporating in the blink of an eye. “What?” I looked down at her face, her cheeks flushed with indignation as she blew out a breath and angrily swiped a strand of hair out of her face.

“I said he’s not here, psycho. You barreled in, making a scene for nothing.”

“Well, you looked—” I waved my hand up and down, encompassing the skimpy top that was no longer shielded by the sweater that she’d apparently dropped in her rush to stop me. “You answered the door half naked. I just assumed—” I had to swallow down the bile that started climbing up my throat at the thought of her and that over-gelled fuck-wad together. “You know.”

She narrowed her eyes, planting a hand on her cocked hip as the other jabbed at my chest. “I amfullydressed, you Neanderthal!”

I took a step back so I was out of reach of that damn pokey finger, and raked my hands through my hair. “I just thought...Christ, I don’t know.” The feeling squeezing my chest in a vise grip just then was something new to me, completely foreign, and I didn’t like it one goddamn bit. “It’s late and you’re just getting home, and then you answer the door holding that sweater like you were trying to cover up—”

“I was in the middle of getting undressed. You were beating on the door so hard I worried you were going to bust through, so I was in kind of a rush. And it’s not that late,” she added, looking at me like I had totally lost it, which, I guess I kind of did. I just couldn’t help it.

“What is this?” she asked, pulling me from my miserable thoughts. “Why the hell did you come storming down here like a crazed maniac? You’re the one who told me to go on the date in the first damn place. This was all your idea!”

“I know!” I barked in annoyance—not at her but at myself. “I know,” I repeated, working to bring my tone down, to calm myself. “I fucked up, Layla. Seems like that’s all I’ve been doing when it comes to you. Just one fuck-up after another. I’ve never had this problem before. It’s like I don’t know who the hell I am, what I should say or do when I’m around you.”

Her chin jerked back in affront. “So it’smyfault you’ve jumped on the batty wagon? I don’t think so, asshole!”

I shoved my hands through my hair and gave the ends a yank in frustration. “No!” And once again, I was screwing everything up. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not blaming you for anything.”

The expression on her face was proof that she was just as frustrated by this whole thing as I was. Frustrated withme. And rightfully so. “Then what are you doing? Why are you here? I mean, what is this, Jude?”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to go out with that asshole. I’ve regretted it since the moment those words came out of my mouth.” Unable to stand still, I began to pace a path in front of her, feeling like I was coming out of my skin. “I fucking hated knowing you were with him all night.”

Her voice came out soft, a gentle whisper against my skin. “But...I wasn’t.”

That fist that had been plunged into my chest and had been actively squeezing all evening long tightened again, but this time it wasn’t nearly as unpleasant. “Wasn’t what?”

“With him,” she clarified. “The date never happened.”

“What happened? He get sick or something?” I asked with way too much enthusiasm. “Let me guess. He contracted a foot fungus from all those pedicures he likes to get.”

Layla’s snort turned into a giggle. “No. Nothing like that. He just didn’t show.”

The needle fell off the record in my brain, causing a hideous screech to fill my ears. I suddenly saw red again, but for a whole new reason.

“He what?”

I knew she read my change in mood correctly when her expression grew wary. “It’s not a big deal, Jude. Honestly, I didn’t even want to go. Besides, I called up my girls and we made a ladies’ night of it. It was fun.”

How the hell was that possible? The dickhead was lucky enough to have a date with the most beautiful woman in Grapevine—hell, probably the whole fucking state—and he didn’t even show?

“That asshole stood you up?”

“Jude, seriously—” But I was already pushing past her once again and starting for the door before she could say another word.

19

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