Page 22 of Just This Once

Royal

But you did... meet you there at 9.

Nine.

Fuck, I was getting old if my body screamed at the thought of going out at nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Royal was used to late hours at his tattoo shop, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that being a firefighter fucked with my sleep schedule. Not only was I wired at odd times, but I could also fall asleep nearly anywhere when fatigue hit.

For the past few days, I had been dog tired.

I was attributing my fatigue to the new workout routine Brooklyn had started for our shift and not the mental gymnastics I’d been doing regarding Emily.

Chief was right—I didn’t need any distractions right now, and a spitfire woman with kissable lips and a bad attitude most certainly qualified as amajordistraction.

Still, the chance she might be out tonight had crossed my mind. Her being a distraction didn’t stop me from putting in a little extra effort by pairing my scuffed boots with a new pair of denim jeans and a T-shirt that I was well aware was about half a size too tight in the biceps.

Hoping to clear my head, I parked my truck in the public lot near the north beach. Though the beach was technically closed, I could walk the pier toward Outtatowner’s historical lighthouse and let the crash of Lake Michigan’s waves drown out the thrumming in my skull.

On my way back up the hill toward town, I spotted Lee Sullivan’s obnoxious black truck. With tourist season starting earlier and earlier each year, traffic through downtown was still steady even at this time of night. I glanced around but didn’t recognize any faces or seem to be drawing any attention.

As I passed the driver’s-side door, I tested the handle. To my surprise, the door popped open. I stifled the giggle that bubbled up from my gut.

“Fucking idiot.” Nerves and excitement danced through me.

I had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get back at the Sullivans for their latest prank, and Lee was always my favorite target. He loved his lifted truck and was always careful to ensure it was locked up or parked under a streetlight, making it nearly impossible to fuck with.

But tonight he had messed up, leaving his truck unlocked and making it an easy target. I cast one last look around, ensuring I wasn’t drawing attention before slipping the multi-tool from my pocket.

In under a minute, I had the fuse box in his dash open and made a few minor adjustments before closing it back up and shutting the driver’s door.

When I stood to my full height, I startled at Miss Tiny, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands on her hips and scowling at me.

My eyes went wide. Ms. Tiny was crotchety, but her alliances stood firmly in King territory.

I nodded and suppressed my grin. “Ma’am.”

“Didn’t see a thing.” She smiled sweetly before whistling and shuffling away.

I exhaled in relief. Part of the fun was getting away with our ridiculous antics and never letting on who pulled which prank. That way your opponent never knew which angle you were going to attack from. A skill I had undoubtedly learned from my father.

I hurried up the sidewalk and passed King Tattoo, peeking in only briefly and continuing on to the Grudge when I didn’t spot Royal.

The kick drum from a live band thumped through the large wooden door as the neon skeleton smiled down at me. Inside, the dinner crowd was long gone, and the shift from family eatery to dance hall had begun. The band was well into their set of country classics as I scanned the bar.

My brother’s bulky, tattooed frame stood out among the gathering, and I made my way toward him.

“What’s with the shit-eating grin?” Royal clamped his hand into mine.

“Nothing, man. Best if you’ve got no knowledge of it.” I squeezed back.

“You see Sullivan’s truck parked up the road?” Royal asked before taking a sip of whiskey on ice.

I suppressed my grin. “Yup.”

“You take care of it?” he asked slyly, his eyes never leaving the dance floor.

“Sure did.”

Royal’s wide palm slapped against the high-top table. “Well, all right, let’s get you something to drink then.”

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