Page 22 of Throw Down

“What, this old thing?” he joked, running his hand through his hair before he remembered how much gel was in it.“Picked it up at the ‘Trying Too Hard’ store.”

Derek’s mouth didn’t even twitch, but Briar thought the corners of his eyes might have crinkled.

“Mind if I join you?” Briar asked, indicating the empty seat opposite Derek.And then, just in case it sounded too flirtatious, he rushed to add, “I wanted to talk to you about Princess.”

Whatever faint trace of friendliness he’d seen in Derek's expression instantly vanished.

“Nothing to talk about,” Derek said, draining his glass and slapping it down on the table with a grimace.“She’s not mine anymore.”

“But you love her,” Briar protested, and when Derek’s eyes flashed, he waved him off irritably.“Oh, don’t give me that look.You can be a big macho he-man and still love puppies.It won’t emasculate you.”

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Briar admitted.“I can’t figure you out at all.”

Derek frowned and glanced away.“It’s not hard. I just want people to mind their own business and leave me alone.”

Well, that couldn’t have been clearer.Briar was tempted to take him at his word and go back to the crowd that—well, he wasn’t sure they wanted him, but they at least tolerated him.But there was a devil in him, so he stuck his tongue in his cheek and pretended to think about it instead.

“Ohhh,” he drew out tauntingly, "Is that why you’re brooding all alone in a dark corner?Isn’t that your brother over there?Or do you not like him either?”

Derek’s gaze darted over his shoulder to where West was laughing at some apparently outrageous story Cal was telling.Right before Briar’s eyes, Derek's features seemed to tighten and harden.

“What’s your point?” he asked harshly.

Briar shrugged. “No point, I guess.You were just so nice to me the other day, and I'm a total stranger.But you seem to treat the things you care about like garbage.”

Derek looked at him—really looked at him—in a way that just wasn't polite.His gaze was steady and direct, instantly trapping Briar.Transfixing him. For a long, torturous moment, the ambient noise of the tavern seemed to fall away.Then Derek exhaled, a slow and controlled release.

“Life is more complicated than just being nice or mean, Briar.”

“Is it?” Briar shot back, feeling strangely under attack.“It seems simple enough to me.”

Derek was silent.

Briar wondered if he’d gone too far.He fidgeted, trying to find a relaxed posture, but every angle felt awkward.He didn’t even realize he was fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve until Derek reached out and stopped his hand.His fingers were shockingly warm.

“Look, kid,” Derek said in a quiet voice, “I know you've got do-gooder written all over you, but around here you’ve got to learn to keep out of other folk’s business.I’ve got my reasons. Most people do.”

The word ‘kid’ had Briar’s hackles rising.“I’m not that much younger than you,” he retorted irritably.

Derek’s smile was slow. “You’re centuries younger.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a condescending asshole?”

Reluctant amusement curved Derek's lips, and he threw back his head and laughed.It was the first time Briar had ever heard a real laugh from him. Briar stiffened in his seat, skin prickling, and clenched his jaw to keep from shivering.

“Sure, I’m condescending,” Derek agreed with a lingering grin on his lips, “but I’m never wrong.”

“Expert at everything, huh?” Briar asked sarcastically.

Derek shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“Oh, my God.” Briar laughed incredulously.He wanted desperately to take him down a peg, just to see what Derek might do.He jerked one thumb at the dance floor over his shoulder.“Okay, Mr. Expert. Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”

Derek's scowl was full of distaste.“I don’t dance.”

“Come on,” Briar goaded, grinning mischievously.“Just one dance. Or are you all talk?”

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