Page 67 of Wild Eyes
“Just drive.”
“Why do you suck so much tonight?” Bash grumbles from over the lip of his pint glass as I slither back to our seats from another gutter-ball performance.
He doesn’t make eye contact with me, but disappointment wafts from him. That’s nothing new for Bash, though. He always seems slightly disappointed—it’s part of his grouchy persona.
“Because he can’t see past the hearts in his eyes,” Ford murmurs, sliding in next to me with a fresh beer in hand.
“Hey, I’m not as bad as Rhys.” I point at the huge man beside him.
He’s new to the team. Showed up a month ago and is only here intermittently.
When he is here, he doesn’t say much about anything.
He and Bash side by side are like two of the seven dwarves—Grumpy and Broody.
“No one is as bad as Rhys,” Bash comments as he rolls his eyes.
Rhys turns to give the older man a dry look. Bash isn’t the least bit intimidated, though plenty of people would be. “You’re lucky I show up at all, considering I don’t actually live here.”
“To be fair, you only show up occasionally,” Ford points out, ever the stickler for details.
“Wheredoyou live?” I ask, always snooping for more.
“Florida.”
My head quirks. “Florida?”
Rhys shrugs. “Thinking of moving to town more permanently. So that might change.”
We all stare at the man of few words, hoping he might share a few more. “What brought that about?”
Now it’s my turn to get Rhys’s signature dry look. “Like the bowling team.”
“What did you say your kid’s name is again?” I ask.
“I didn’t.”
The guy’s a fucking enigma, so I try another strategy to get even a crumb of information. “Does Tabitha know you’re moving here?”
We all know there’s something up with him and Tabitha, the owner of the Bighorn Bistro—but not in a good way. In fact, they seem to despise each other. Not that he ever says anything about her.
He swallows and a muscle in his jaw pops. “Yep.”
“Well, that should be entertaining at the very least,” Bash mutters, sipping his beer again.
“But she hates you?” I prod.
Based on the way she marched him into Rose Hill Reach mere weeks ago and shoved him at us like she was taking out the trash, I feel like I already know the answer.
“Seems to,” he confirms.
“You ever gonna tell us what the deal is with you two?” I rock back on my feet, eager to know. Tabitha and Rosie played on the same volleyball team growing up, so I know her well enough to be concerned.
Rhys ignores me, then he unfolds his massive frame from his seat and announces, “My turn,” before shoving past without addressing my question.
“You’re a snoopy little bitch, you know that?” Ford mumbles, taking his turn to punch me on the shoulder.
“I thought you and your obsession with privacy was one of a kind, but that guy has you beat. I don’t even know where he lives when he’s in town. Crazy Clyde is crazy, but at least he had entertaining conspiracy theories to tell us.”
