Page 120 of Fearless

And then it proceeded to get more fucked up, as Ava and her boyfriend walked in the front door.

**

By the time they climbed back in the truck after the royal UT campus tour, Ava felt lighter, more like the girl who’d decided, some months before, that dating Ronnie was the healthiest thing she could possibly do for herself. Dinner? he suggested. Why not. How about Bell Bar? That was a local spot if any place could be deemed such. So there they went, for beers and hot wings and a nice wind-down to the day in the warm, dark-smelling bar that was tourist-friendly enough for Ron, and club-friendly enough for her.

They were seated, at one of the low round tables beside the bar, before she realized that Mercy was there.

Her tongue promptly glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

“What can I get you to drink?” their waitress, a booby brunette was asking, as Ava tore her eyes away from Mercy’s tall shape over at one of the tall tables.

“Um…” She glanced up in time to see Ronnie scoping out said boobs. Screw the beer. “Whiskey rocks,” she said.

The waitress didn’t blink. “Jack?”

“That’s fine.”

Ronnie gave her an appropriate frown as he ordered a Heineken.

Ava looked away from his censorious concern, and her eyes went again to Mercy, without her consent. Why did he have to look so good? Why wasn’t Ronnie – why wasn’t anyone – enough to drag her heart away?

She snapped back to the moment, but not fast enough. Ronnie twisted, and glanced across the room, to the table of three Dogs. When he turned back, he looked grim. “Which one is he?”

Ava felt her throat constrict. “Which one is who?” She tried to play dumb.

“Okay, I may not have a clue about this club stuff, but I’m not so stupid I can’t see that you obviously had some sort of thing with one of these guys. What was the name ? – Mercy?” He nodded and tipped his head toward the table of Dogs. “Which one? He’s over there, isn’t he? And that’s why you look like you just got punched in the stomach.”

The waitress returned, with perfect timing, and set down their drinks. Ava ordered them a basket of wings and a plate of fries, and threw down half her drink in one swallow as the brunette stowed her pad and walked away.

Ronnie may have enjoyed the cleavage, but once the girl was gone, he was laser-guided on Ava again. “So?” He lifted his brows.

She sighed, and ran her finger around the rim of her heavy glass tumbler. “Mercy, yeah,” she said, feeling defeated. There was no sense pretending at this point, not if he’d figured it out. Her face heated and she furthered the problem with another slug of Jack. “He’s the tall one, with the black hair.”

Now it was Ronnie’s turn to look like he’d been punched in the stomach. “What?” He twisted around in his chair and took a good long stare at Mercy; he had to be seeing the same stalwart man she saw, the way he made all furniture seem insubstantial. “No.” He was shaking his head when he turned back around, his eyes wide, face pale. “No. No way were you ever withthat guy.”

Down went the rest of the whiskey, and her stomach crackled with the flames. “Believe it.”

He sat back and his eyes glazed over for a long minute.

Here it came: the judgment, the ridicule.

But Ronnie said, “You understand you’re worlds too good for someone like that, right?”

She blinked. The whiskey had made her head light and her limbs heavy. The warmth was spreading, a hot tingling out through her fingers. In a distant way, she was offended.Don’t insult him, she wanted to say.He’s incredible and I will always adore him and shut up, Ronnie, just shut up.

But his gaze was earnest and his words had been a compliment, an offer of comfort.

“I wouldn’t sayworlds…”

“I would. You’re going somewhere, Ava. You’re smart, and talented; you’re a good student, you apply yourself–”

She snorted. “Didn’t know I was dating my high school guidance counselor.”

He grinned, face coloring. “I’m being serious.”

“So was she. And also not a fan of the club.”

“I didn’t say–”

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