Chalk Dirty to Me (Madd CrossFit 3)

I tilted my head. “You sound like you know a lot on that subject.”

In answer, she sucked down the rest of her beverage, then placed it carefully on the bar in front of her. “I just know. And it’s not something I talk about.”

I could hear the finality of her words, and in answer, I chose to again change the subject.

“If you still want me in the morning, when you’re sober, then I’ll take you up on the offer,” I blurted.

Damn beer brain.

I hadn’t meant it to come out quite like that.

But it got the job done, I guess.

Her body turned so that she was once again mostly facing me, and her hand tightened on my leg where it felt like she was branding me just by holding it there. “We’re both drunk. How are we going to get there?”

“I was going to walk to my place,” I told her. “It’s a fifteen-minute walk, give or take. I’ve never done it slightly inebriated, though.”

Her lips twitched. “I’d say we could go to mine, but mine’s farther.”

I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, then left it on the bar top under my mostly empty beer mug.

Gesturing to it with a flick of my head, I said, “Have a good night,” to the bartender before slowly standing.

Losing her hand on my leg felt like I’d lost a piece of myself I hadn’t realized that I had.

When she stood, too, her eyes followed me almost the entire time.

It was only when she had to step away from the bar, leaving me at her back, that she took her eyes away to glance at the crowd behind her.

There were a lot of people here.

I’d noticed every single one of them come in, but not a single one had approached.

Not even the ladies that I could see glaring at Cannel.

Cannel who looked like she was about to start laughing.

“Man, they’re not happy with me, are they?” she questioned.

I looked at a few of the ladies in question and quickly glanced away. “There aren’t very many newbies that come in here,” I admitted. “Fresh meat.”

She snorted delicately and swayed slightly when she had to maneuver around a man that’d gotten up from his chair without seeing us behind him.

“Oopps.” He inhaled. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” He paused again, eyes narrowing. “You.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“You’re the one that has the hots for my wife,” he growled.

It was then that I recognized him.

Tarzan was what Brianna called him. I wasn’t sure if that was his actual name or not, but it was the only one I knew him by.

I’d seen him a time or two at the station.

He’d come to bring her a new set of keys once, and sign divorce papers the second time.

Each time, she’d been practically hanging on me.

Now, I understood the why of it.

She was trying to make him jealous.

Or possibly get my face bashed in, because Tarzan was massive.

“Sorry to break your heart,” Cannel said as she sidled closer to me, her back coming against my chest. “But he has the hots for me. Your wife just likes to make you jealous by using my man to do it.”

“Your man?” he asked, looking from Cannel to me. “Sorry. I’m just… it was a bad breakup. Still smarts a little.”

I couldn’t stop myself from looping my arm around her middle and pulling her in closer.

That’s when I really took the man’s features in.

He looked… haggard.

As if he’d just run a marathon and was expected to keep going afterward.

“It’s fine,” I lied. “Let us know if you need anything.”

It was a throwaway comment to most, but I meant it completely.

Tarzan didn’t look good at all.

He looked… bad.

Like I needed to give him that lifeline.

Because I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like how it turned out if I didn’t give him something to hold on to.

“How’s she doin’?” he asked. “God.” He rubbed at his heart. “I feel like a large piece of me was ripped right out.”

Cannel sighed, sounding saddened by his words.

Hell, they did that to me, too.

“She’s doing okay,” Cannel lied through her teeth. “She’s burying herself in work.”

That wasn’t completely true, but it also wasn’t a lie.

I had a feeling she was spending more time at work because I was there.

Something in which I wasn’t going to tell a guy that had at least fifty pounds and four inches on me, and I was no slouch in either department.

At six foot four and two hundred and thirty pounds, I was one of the biggest guys in the department.

But Ol’ Tarzan had that and some.

He may be older, but he was no chump, either.

“Y’all be careful on the way home.” Tarzan narrowed his eyes at me.

I gave him a thumbs up, then hurriedly herded Cannel to the door.

We were outside, and about half the parking lot away from the front door, her hand in mine, when she said, “He looks pretty broken up and shocked about that divorce.”