Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

I flinch, pulling away from the two of them and look at Navie. She looks surprised at the intrusion and at the term of endearment. I hold out a hand to motion for her to wait. That there’s more to this story than lets on.

“I’m good.” Peck sits back in his chair and focuses on Molly. “How are you doin’ tonight?”

“Good.” The sweetness drips off her words like poison, like the fake sugar known to cause cancer. You can feel the tumors grow with each breath she takes. “Just saw you up here and thought I’d say hi.”

Rolling my eyes, I look at Navie. Molly glances quickly at Navie, too, and then bends toward Peck. Her boobs nearly drop to Peck’s lap as her buzzed eyes set on me like I’m the enemy. “Well, hello, there, Hadley Jacobs.”

“Well, hello, there, Molly.” There’s no love in my tone.

There’s no love in the look she shoots me either. She turns back to Peck, who is putty in her hands. “I wondered if you’d look at my car. I’m afraid to try to leave here in it without someone taking a look at it.”

“Oh my God …” I groan.

“What’s it doin’?” Peck asks, oblivious to anything but the girl in front of him.

Molly angles her cleavage toward Peck. “It’s moaning and the ground was all wet underneath it when I got here.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit,” Navie mutters.

I can’t help but laugh, but she’s not talking about the car. And she’s not wrong either. Molly glares at the two of us before going back to work. “Think you could take a look, Peck?”

“Yeah, of course.” He stands and takes the last pull of his beer. “Sit right here, okay? Don’t get up.”

“Are you seriously going outside to look at her car now?” I balk. “It’s dark, dude. All you’re gonna see is the game she’s playing.”

“Be nice,” he whispers. “I’ll be right back.” With a pat on my shoulder and a quick glance at Navie, he follows a smug Molly out the door.

Navie’s jaw drops as Peck walks away. “I have a feeling I don’t even want to know who that girl is.”

“Molly McCarter. Resident town slut and I don’t use that term lightly. I actually selected that word from my expansive vocabulary. It was the only one that fit.”

Navie giggles. “Please. Tell me more.”

I take a sip of water, ignoring Machlan’s stare. “A whore just sleeps around. I have no problems with that. But a slut acts inappropriate, unconcerned with little details like marriage or prior commitments. She’s in it for the drama and attention, not the sex.”

“Love the description.” She looks at the door. “Hate that Peck is out there with her. He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s a great guy. And he’s in here flirting with you, and she can’t take it. She usually ignores him, which is sad, but he’s better off for it, actually.”

She grabs two beers from the cooler and hands them to a couple of guys at the end of the bar. “Does he like her?”

The question is poised as if it was an afterthought. Being that I’ve tried to pry information out of people almost my entire life about Machlan and hoped they didn’t catch on, I catch on.

“He has this crush on her. It’s more like a kid with a puppy than an adult relationship. It won’t last.” Shaking my bottle at her, I throw out an idea. “He just needs someone else to rewire his brain. He can do so much better.”

“I’d do him better.”

“You know what? I like you.” I laugh.

“And I like you.” She glances over her shoulder. “And so does my boss.”

Following her line of sight to Machlan, I catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye. He looks away. I don’t.

Despite the handful of people clearly waiting on his attention, he pauses in front of an old man. The man seems to be fumbling over his words. His finger is crooked with age, and he jabs it toward Machlan with a smile on his face.

Machlan keeps his body square to the old man. He nods his head, smiles at various points, and even laughs a couple of times.

My heart warms just watching him. How he gives so much of himself to these various people is beyond me. I’d be pulling my hair out by now.

“He’s a good guy,” Navie offers.

“Yeah. He is.”

“How long have you known him?”

I settle back in my chair. “Since I was fourteen. I moved here with my father and brother, Cross, when my mom died.”

She nods and then looks over my shoulder. “Okay, then. Since you grew up here—who the hell is that?”

Twenty

Hadley

Woah.

There’s no confusion as to who she’s talking about. If the word stunning was ever supposed to be used to describe men, it was for these two.