Page 87 of Ablaze

But I was also doing my best to work through it. She might argue with that given how strange the next morning was between us, but in my heart and mind, I swear, I was trying to come to terms with it all. Failing, but trying, nevertheless.

But that wasn’t even what had my head in a spin. It was her second promise. The one she had me make when we were driving there.

“What I’d love, Dean, is for you to fucking forget last night happened, like you’d promised.”

She’d changed the rules. That wasn’t ever what I’d promised. The first promise was to go back to being friends after sharing the night–words I never should have agreed to in the first place, but did for her sake. But then she threw in another promise–as if I was some fucking genie fulfilling wishes.

She asked me to forget it even happened.

How? How could she expect that? How could she want that?

Sitting in my car, I got a glimpse of the man in a suit and tie who’d come to pick her up. I suppose she’s always had a thing for men in suits. The guy exited his car and walked around to open the passenger door for her. But it wasn’t even that that had caught my eye. It was the look on his face at the sight of her–the familiar soft caress of his eyes over her entire frame, his possessive hand on the base of her spine.

“Oh, shit. Is this about Mala?” Hudson asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. “What’s happening on that front?”

I get off the barstool and grin at the cute bartender headed our way to ask her for another round of drinks. I have no intention of giving her anything more than a friendly smile. Even if I did, even if I wanted to–which I don’t–Mala made sure my dick doesn’t so much as twitch in anyone’s presence but hers.

“Shit.” Garrett gets up abruptly, looking down at his phone. “I have to go.”

“Everything okay, brother?” I ask, studying his face. Based on the excitement swirling in his eyes, it doesn’t seem like a bad kind of emergency.

He looks up like he just realized we’re still here. “Yeah, uh, sorry to cut this short, but I just got a text from Bella. Everything’s fine, but I need to see her.”

He gives us all a bro-hug, but when he gets to me, he pulls me in for a little longer. “There’s no one I know better than you, brother. And if there’s one thing I know right now, it’s that you’re fucking miserable without her.” He pulls back to look at me. “I don’t know what the fuck happened because you won’t tell anyone, but here’s a piece of unsolicited brotherly advice. Sometimes missing communication can be more detrimental than miscommunication. So, do yourself a favor and tell her what she doesn’t know.”

I look down at the phone clutched in his hand. “Is that what you’re doing? Going off to get missing information.”

He gives me the smirk we’re both known for. “I’m going off to get a lot more than just missing information.”

Once Garrett leaves, Darian, Hudson, and I start a game of Cut Throat. I’ve just sunk the last of Hudson’s balls and only have two more of Darian’s left on the table. My own two are on there as well, so it’s a guess as to who will win–me or Darian.

“How about we make this game more interesting?” Darian says, holding his cue stick like a mountain climber with a trekking pole.

I eye him over the table as I try to line up the cue ball behind one of his. Darian may come across as quiet and reserved, but the guy can be a shark on the pool and poker table. And right now, he has that same gleam in his smile that I’ve seen when he’s just gotten a bad idea. It’s rare, but it’s been known to happen.

“How much are we wagering?” I already regret encouraging this conversation.

He rubs his palms together. “Not money. Let’s wager something that’ll hurt a little more if you lose it.”

Hudson smiles. “Oh, this’ll be good. I’m going to need another beer for this.” He waves to our bartender again.

“Like what?” I ask Darian, ignoring Hudson.

Darian thinks about it. “I’ll wager my boat.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. He loves that boat. “Your boat. You’re being serious right now?”

He nods, a smug look on his face. “Not forever. I’ll let you have it for six months.”

I blow out a breath through my lips. “I’m not betting my truck, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s the only transportation I have.”

Hudson chimes in, looking at Darian, “Oh! Make him wager something else he loves just as much.” I knit my brows, not knowing what he’s even talking about, but suspecting I’m not going to like it. “Like that man-bun of his!”

I step back as if they’re coming after me with scissors. “Hey, now. Leave my hair out of this.”

Darian shrugs disappointedly. “I’m wagering my fucking boat, and you can’t bet a haircut? Seriously? You can grow that shit back, jackass.”

I look to the side, my jaw clenching as I take a second to process. These guys are serious assholes. I’ve had my hair long like this for as long as I can remember. I’m fucking attached to it!

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