Page 60 of Fastlander Phoenix

He respected it.

Timber slipped her hand into the inside corner of his elbow and looked up at him. Her smile wasn’t on her pretty glossed lips right now, and he didn’t like it.

“You’re good,” he murmured as he opened the door for her. He held it for the others while Timber waited beside him, scanning the bar.

The party seemed to be in the back, as the front of the bar was pretty empty.

“You want a drink?” he asked.

“Probably need one,” she murmured nervously. He could feel the tension rolling off her, so he leaned down and kissed her lips to siphon some of it away.

He wrapped his hand around hers and God, he loved how petite her hand was in his. The bar only had a couple of people ordering drinks at it, and it was easy to get attention from the bartender. He ordered a round of beers for the Fastlander men, and a round of lemon-drop shots for the ladies, except for Hallie, who got a lemonade.

Just as he knew would happen, Corey took control of the situation and took some selfies with the girls, took pictures of their drinks all in the middle doing a cheers, and did a toast. “This is for bread, because without bread, there is no toast.”

Wreck snorted and sipped his beer. Normally he didn’t drink because the titan inside of him used his dulled senses to take over his body easier, but fuck it. He was safe underGunner’s Alpha order, and not too worried about turning phoenix over some humans that were beneath Timber.

She snuggled up to him at the bar, and he quickly grabbed his phone and took a picture of the girls taking shots—other than Hallie, who was knocked up and taking a shot of her lemonade—and sent it to her phone. He was going to take more pictures of her doing fun stuff so she could post them if she wanted, and none of her family could say anything. She was here on their invite.

“Timber?” a woman asked.

Timber’s smile fell from her face. Wreck studied the woman who stood on the outskirts of their group in a pair of skinny jeans, motorcycle boots, and a sequined black shirt. She had Timber’s eye color and bone structure, but she was shorter, and her face was all frown wrinkles and a dour expression.

Her mother, Gale, he guessed.

“Timber,” she repeated as she made her way through the others to reach her daughter. “I’m…” She looked Timber up and down. “I’m honestly shocked that you are here.”

“Well, you invited me.”

“No I didn’t.”

Timber frowned. “You sent an invite? Via email?”

“Oh,” she drawled out. She huffed a single, angry laugh. “I’m going to throttle your sister. She did the invites from my email. She must’ve accidentally invited you.”

Timber’s face said everything he needed to know—this woman still had the power to hurt her.

“Gale, is it? Timber’s told me a lot about you.” Mostly bad. “If she’s not invited, it’s no skin off her back,” Wreck assured the battle-axe. “We were all out barhopping anyway.” He straightened his spine, stood from his barstool, and offered his hand for a shake. “I’m Wreck.”

“Wreck,” Gale said, her eyes narrowing. “That’s a name, isn’t it.”

He could feel the fire heating his fingertips, so he dropped his hand before she could shake it. He offered her an empty smile, and then asked her, “Would you like a drink? I’ll get you one while your daughter introduces you to her friends. What do you want?”

“Whiskey,” she deadpanned. “I want top shelf, straight up.”

“Of course you do.” He patted Timber on the ass and turned to the bartender to order the drink. Timber had gone so quiet, and he hated this. He turned and murmured, “We don’t stoop.”

“Is this the guy on your Instagram?” a male voice sounded. Wreck slowly turned to see a tall man headed their way. He had his arm around a blonde woman, and a brunette woman was following them. The entire party in the back was looking their way. Wreck offered a two-fingered wave to the onlookers, and then straightened to meet the family-stealers.

Timber cleared her throat. “Umm. This is Brandon. Brandon, Wreck. And that back there is Marissa. My replacement. I don’t know the blonde. She must be new.”

“I hate that you call me your replacement,” Marissa barked in a bitchy voice as she offered Wreck her hand for a shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

He looked at her hand and considered shaking it just to burn the shit out of her. His skin was heating up. “It’s not your fault,” he told her, ignoring her hand.

“What’s not my fault? I can assure you whatever story Timber told you isn’t the real story. Nothing’s my fault,” the woman said, letting her hand fall to her side.

“Mmm. I was going to say it’s not your fault for wanting a family dynamic with a family you were supposed to be a part of,but now I don’t care about being kind. I have this weird talent for sensing bullshit. In the very few times Timber has talked about her distance with any of you, never once did I sense a lie. You, on the other hand. Your voice sure was shaky on that ‘Nothing’s my fault.’”

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