Pushing the Limit

Dash

Ican barely control the rage that bubbles inside me at the sight of Owen holding Peppermint’s hand. Hell, at the sight of her letting Owen hold her hand. Why the fuck do they look so damn cozy?

“Damn, man. I thought you’d finally nailed her,” Bishop says, shaking his head. “Looks like Owen is making a move.”

“Fuck him,” I growl. “And fuck her, too.”

“You tried, remember?” Bishop laughs.

Yeah, I tried. I fucking succeeded. I may as well be an overachiever when it comes to fucking Peppermint. But then Munsey started in on me about me being in love. I’m not in love with her. And sure, I tell myself I want an ol’ lady one day, but that’s bullshit. An ol’ lady can leave just as easily as my dad. Easier. Why bother?

“I’ll get us some drinks. You get the pool table ready.”

I saunter up to the bar where Owen and Peppermint are and bark out an order for her. She tears her gaze from his — because I’m being perfectly clear about this, she was gazing at him — and holds up a finger for him to wait.

“What can I get you?”

I rattle off my drink order instead of demanding an explanation. I have no grounds to do that when I’ve been ghosting her for days. If anything, I owe her an explanation, but I’m not ready to give her that.

As she makes the drinks, I holler down to Owen. “Pool?”

He looks over his shoulder at where Bishop is setting us up. “Looks like you got a partner.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being intimidated. You stay at the bar. Your chances might be better here.”

It’s a jab. I know it. I’m basically calling him a pussy for not taking me up on my offer while making a slight insult at Peppermint that she would actually spread her damn legs for this douche.

“Here you go, Dash,” Peppermint says, bringing my drinks over.

My fingertips brush against hers as I take the drinks. She sucks in a breath, and I know she’s as affected as I am by that one small touch. Damn, I don’t want to play pool. I want to sit here at the bar and watch her work. I want her to hold my hand.

“Let’s go, youngster,” Owen says, standing up from the barstool. “Don’t go crying to your mama when I kick your ass.”

“Don’t have to worry about that happening, old man.”

He chuckles as he walks to the pool table, and I just want to slug him. Everything about this man pisses me off. Add in the fact that he’s after Peppermint, and I’m ready to gut him like a damn fish.