Unlovely Things (Love By Design 2)

Hunter’s tension was palatable as he grumbled, “Alan, you’re checking yourself out a full two weeks early. I’m not sure if Taylor Jane is going to be pissed or happy—pardon, sir.” Hunter sucked up to his future father-in-law like a pro as he helped him get into his truck. The girls were trying out cake flavors for the wedding, but we were currently outside of Albany, picking up Mr. Bryant from a swanky rehab center that overlooked the Hudson River. Taylor would be pissed for all of two minutes until teddy bear over here gave her a disgustingly loving puppy dog look. Taylor would bring Hunter home slices of cake while I was going home alone with no cake. I defiantly got gypped on this errand.

“I’m sick and tired of being cooped up in there walking around an indoor track with nurses farther up my ass than an enema. I miss my house and everything that’s normal.”

“Can’t fault that logic,” I muttered, earning a smile from Alan and grumbles from Hunter.

“Next week I need a ride to the DMV so I can meet with the Driver Rehabilitation Specialist as per that damn doctor.” Alan was already out of breath and I looked over his head at Hunter, who shook his own, sighing. I guessed Taylor would take charge once we got back and got him settled at home.

“They make you get clearance for that?” It made sense, but if Alan was well enough to leave the center on his own accord it seemed silly to me that he had to get cleared by the DMV. I shuddered thinking about the next time I had to go over there for my group.

“Shit, son, my doctor made me cough and checked my balls when I had a damn stroke.”

Hunter chuckled and I sat in the back of the truck cab. “They want to make sure you’re okay, Alan.”

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” he husked out, getting comfortable in the seat.

“Taylor Jane would feel better knowing you did it.” Hunter looked at the man who meant everything to his fiancée, and I had to agree. If anything happened to Alan, Taylor would be crushed. I almost felt a responsibility now that I was an accomplice in busting him out early.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” I asked, feeling more than paranoid. If Taylor was pissed, that meant Kristen would be pissed, and I usually got hell for that whether or not something was my fault.

“It’s already done, boys. I’ll just have to ask Taylor Jane for forgiveness when she comes over later.” Alan put on a pair of sunglasses and Hunter pulled the truck out onto the road to drive back.

“Yes, I’ll be busy in the forgiveness department, likely redoing a bathroom or the pantry with new trim. Thanks for that.” Hunter hit the gas and we were off while Alan chuckled and patted his shoulder in solidarity.

“Damien, are you busy next week? Maybe you take me over to the DMV?”

“Ahh…” Now it was awkward. It didn’t help that Hunter laughed from the driver’s seat. Seemed like my business hadn’t made all the gossip rounds after all.

“Yeah Damien?” Hunter eyeballed, me smiling. I was going to have to fess up.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. At least not for several more weeks anyway.” The shame ate away at me. Alan wasn’t my dad, but he was like a surrogate father to all of us from the old neighborhood, and there I was letting someone else down.

“What is it, boys? You get into some trouble? I may not be rolling in the dough to bail you out, but I know a judge or two.” Alan looked over his shoulder at me and I felt embarrassment creep up. The judges he knew were the last ones I wanted hearing about this, if they hadn’t already. That courthouse was a damn sewing circle of gossip, and Judge Maddox had heard my case, delivering what he called “swift and sensible justice.” Yeah, right. I really didn’t want to admit to this man that I’d fucked up so badly that I had lost my license until I completed an Intoxicated Driver program for the next several weeks.

“Trouble is kind of my middle name, Mr. Bryant.”

“Ah,” he said, commiserating with me kindly.

“Dame here got into it with his favorite police officer.” Hunter of course took that as his moment to throw me to the wolves.

“Thanks a lot, cousin,” I grumbled from the backseat.

“The Rooney boy your girl keeps messing around with?” Why was it that parents and older folks were so damn observant? Next time I was just going to ask him what I should do, because obviously making decisions on my own was a bad idea.

“Shit.” I leaned back in the truck, wishing I could disappear under a floorboard or out the back.

“You know, Damien, you really need to work that out. You two are miserable for no good reason except your own bullheadedness.”

“Mine?”

“Hers too, but it’s not polite to tell a lady she’s being difficult,” he said, smirking and getting away with it.

“Wait.” I leaned forward in my seat to pop my head out between them in the truck. “Are we talking about the same girl here? Kristen Calloway?” When was Kristen not being difficult? When was she not trying to emasculate me?

“Relax, Damien.” Hunter used his hand to push me back so I could safely sulk with my seatbelt secured.

“You don’t know another hellion girl do you, son?” Alan asked. Nope. Kristen was the only one I considered a hellion who had jammed me up more times than I wanted to acknowledge over the years.

“Just her, sir.”