Page 79 of The Bonds We Break
Her booted foots rubs against my shin, and she winks.
Feisty little chicks, indeed.
The women carry the conversation for the rest of dinner as I do my best to ignore Saint. Rae and Iris have a deep conversation about childhood mental health, and even I can’t help but be charmed by some of Iris’s stories about Spark and her class of kids. Gwen talks about a Christmas party at the hotel she works at that got out of hand and how she called the police, but they were taking their sweet time. So she called Clutch, who showed up with Halo and Switch, and the three of them scared the crap out of the guests that were out of control. Said she didn’t hear a peep out of them afterward, and they’d meekly checked out the following morning, two hours before their check-out time.
When dinner is finished, we decide to head down the street to a pool hall we know that’s club friendly.
Watching Gwen laugh at something Rae says hits a little different. I should have known the two of them would get on. Gwen is smart. Rae is smarter. They are both more clever than any man in this fucking bar.
“You going to shoot that ball, or you going to stare at Rae all day?” Clutch says, leaning on his pool cue.
I brought about my personal version of hell all on my own. She’s practically covered from top to bottom in a long-sleeve black dress that almost skims the floor. It hugs her figure to the hips, then flares a little. Beneath it, she’s wearing practical boots. Not even fucking heels. Her hair is back in a slick ponytail, and her neck is calling for a line of hickeys.
Ownership marks, maybe. Wonder if I could ever persuade her to get some ink on that virgin skin of hers. Not by Niro. No way is that asshole putting his hands on my—Rae’s skin.
But those lips.
She catches me staring and winks at me.
Jesus.
I turn back to the pool table and promptly miss the ball I’m trying to pocket. “Fuck me.”
Spark laughs. “They can do that to you, right?”
“Who can do what?” I step away from the table.
“Women,” he replies.
Maturely, I flip him the bird.
I see Saint take his sister’s arm and pull her away from the group for a minute. I see the concern on his face as he talks to Rae. Whatever she says makes his shoulders relax. She has that effect on people. I don’t know how. She can be bristly as a porcupine some days. But on others, she seems to know exactly what you need to hear to soothe the turmoil raging through you.
“Fuck it,” I mutter and hand my cue to Spark. “Hold this for me.”
“You’re not going to hit him, are you?” Clutch asks, but there’s humor in his tone.
I flip him the bird too, and both men laugh.
I walk over to Saint and Rae and slide my arm over Rae’s shoulder. At first, I wonder if she’s going to brush it away, but she slides tight against my side. Never realized the right woman could feel so good there.
Never realized it could feel this natural.
Even with Skylar, there was an element of performance about it when she was around the rest of the club. Making sure they all saw her with me. Trying to make sure the other women showed her the appropriate level of respect.
Rae doesn’t want or need any of that, and her smile tells me she’s genuinely happy that I joined her as her hand rubs circles on my back. It’s a small intimacy that makes me feel a thousand feet tall.
I think back to what Clutch said at the diner. About Rae being confident to stand her ground. She’s a natural with the three other women. And she’s been friendly with the men tonight, playful even. Never inappropriately flirty or disrespectful. Just the glue that has kept things peaceful and on an even keel all evening.
“Saint,” I say.
“Prez,” he replies.
“My brother was just telling me about the renovations he and Briar are doing on their home,” Rae says.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Clutch and Spark came over and gave me a hand with ripping out the kitchen. Gonna make it hard to do Christmas dinner, so we’ll be spending it at Spark’s.”
