Page 57 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“A push or a punch?”
I shrug. “I reckon both. I only caught the tail end.”
“Well, hell.” Dean rolls up his sleeves. “And here I was tryin’ to stay clean today.”
“Come on now. Don’t get all quiet now.” The headmistress honcho runs his tongue over his teeth. “Weren’t shy when you followed her out of the men’s bathroom like a dog in heat. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
I feel my brother’s eyes burn holes in me.
“Did you notice when she said no? Or do you need a lesson about consent, big guy? I know it’s a foreign language to some.” I square my shoulders and shift my weight to the balls of my feet, bracing for whatever unfolds.
“That’s not gonna help,” Dean hisses at me, stepping forward. “You gotta get into their heads.”
I’d rather my fist.
“What lady?” Wheeler stretches his neck from side to side, then flexes his fingers as if checking to see if they still work.
I don’t want to answer. I can already hear how this is going to go. But I say her name, knowing damn well I’m about to get roasted like a brisket at a cookout.
My brothers snap their heads at me.
“What were you doing in the bathroom with Jade?” Wheeler tugs at the brim of his hat, casting a shadow from the streetlamp over his eyes.
“We know what he was doing in the bathroom with Jade.” Levi removes his Stetson altogether and tosses it toward the building.
“It’s about time,” Dean shifts his weight from one boot to the other, the heel scraping the dirt.
“Piss off. I wasn’t doing anything with her.”
“They were fuckin’,” Dean says.
“We weren’t fucking.”
“They were fucking. Oh wait, did this guy want to fuck her too?”
I scrub my hands over my face. “If one more person says fuck and Jade in the same sentence, I swear to the Lord—”
One of the bikers clears his throat for our attention.
“Listen, we know my brother gave you a hard time.” Dean thinks he can out-talk his way out of any situation, but I wonder when he’ll realize he digs us into deeper holes every time he tries.
“Here we go,” Beck mutters.
“Can you blame him?” Dean raises his hands. “He’s been in love with that woman since high school.” He presses his hand on his heart.
“I have fucking not.” Why I feel the need to defend myself is a mystery.
I’m always defending myself with these dicks.
“It’s a love-hate thing. Enemies to lovers. Fighters to friends.” Dean is rambling off shit I don’t understand.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The head biker looks as confused as I feel.
Wheeler groans. “Stop quoting tropes from my wife’s books.” He punches the back corner of Dean’s shoulder.
“The fact you know they’re called tropes,” Dean flashes a grin at Wheeler.
“The fact you know what I’m referring to,” Wheeler quips back.
