Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

“It’s fine,” I say, daring Shayanne to say otherwise. “I’ll drive you home so you can go get him. I’m happy to help if you want a spare set of hands too.”

She shakes her head. “I already called an Uber to pick me up. No sense in us both leaving. Stay and have fun with your family. But can you walk me out?”

I’m disappointed, but I escort her out front. I walk her over to my truck, away from the door at least, and drop the tailgate. I lift her under her arms to set her down.

“I could’ve hopped up here myself, you know.” Stinging words meant to hurt a little.

“I know, but we don’t have much time and I was in a hurry to do this . . .” I step between her knees and cup her jaw, my lips hitting hers a breath later. Under the cover of night, I can do what I’ve wanted to do all night on the dance floor. I trace a hand down her neck, across her collarbone, to palm her breast. No bra. Fuck, does she even own one? I hope not.

She arches into my touch and I take the kiss deeper. Her legs wrap around mine, locking me in place as if I have anywhere else to be, and her hands grip my shirt, pulling me in closer. She kisses me back ferociously, our teeth clacking together and tongues invading, and that’s before she nips my bottom lip, pulling it sharply.

“Fuck, Erica.” I’m contemplating just how out of sight we are in this dark corner of the parking lot when her phone buzzes.

Her posture changes instantly, going from straining toward me to straight-backed. “That’s my ride. Go back in and have fun with your family. Don’t let me ruin a fun night before Shay and Luke leave town.”

“Yeah,” I say, though I know I’m not going back inside to listen to everyone’s opinions on what I should and shouldn’t do. “Is it a bitch move if I say that I’m really pissed at Reed right now? I was hoping to be balls deep in you again tonight.”

Erica tilts her head, teasing laughter in her words. “Aw, Cowboy. You say the sweetest things.”

“You sure Reed’s a good mechanic? Seems like a good one wouldn’t have his car break down.” Fine, so I’m a bit pouty.

“He’s good. Just bad luck, probably.”

“Yeah, ours,” I say darkly, pressing one more kiss to her lips.

I let her push me back and hop down from the tailgate. “Goodnight, Brody.” She rights her skirt and walks the few steps toward the silver sedan that’s picking her up before turning back. “Oh, and you were right . . . the meatloaf was good and the music didn’t suck too badly.”

I grin at her parting words, waving as she climbs in and disappears into the night. I look at the door to Hank’s, knowing my family expects me to come back inside. Instead, I send the family chat group—yes, Shay added me back in—a middle finger emoji and get in my truck.

Fuck those fuckers. I’m going home, maybe reading a book before bed, and waiting to see if Erica texts me tonight when she’s done with Reed’s shit.

Chapter 13

Erica

I should change. I knew it before the Uber driver dropped me off at the garage. But I don’t. I’m mad that Reed interrupted the fun I was having with Brody and pissed at the cock block. So a small piece of me wants to irritate the fuck out of Reed in return.

Petty? Yes, admittedly so. Am I doing it anyway? Also, yes.

So I climb up in the tow truck, knowing that Reed will have to do all the work of hooking up his car while I stay in the relative comfort of the driver’s seat. Serves him right. I’m not a monster. I don’t typically blame folks when their vehicles break down. Like I told Brody, sometimes it’s just bad luck, or maybe maintenance snuck up on them and they couldn’t afford it, or a laundry list of reasons a piece of machinery might stop working unexpectedly. But Brody is right . . . a mechanic shouldn’t break down. It’s bad for business.

I pull up to the lot where Reed told me he was parked to find him sitting on the hood of the Camaro he overhauled himself, leaning back against the windshield and staring at the stars. He looks lost in thought, small against the big blackness of the night surrounding him.

My petty anger dissolves. If it were me, he’d rescue me without a second thought. I should afford him the same, especially since we’re friends. Also, maybe partially because we have so much history. I know I hurt him when I left, more than I thought I would. But I shouldn’t have to keep apologizing for wanting to actually live my life according to my own dreams and wishes. Stupid, eighteen-year-old me hadn’t had words for that and had immaturely bolted, but I’ve tried to man up and explain since then. Reed doesn’t want to hear it. But at the minimum, I should pick him up in his time of need without being a bitch about it.