Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills 6)

“Logan, for fuck’s sake, focus,” Carter clipped down the phone, making me wince.

“I’m focused,” I said defensively, ignoring Bex’s snicker. “What’s happened?”

As he laid out why we were being summoned in the middle of the night, my eyes narrowed.

“That little bastard. Give me twenty, and I’ll be there.” Hitting the end call icon, I kissed Bex as apologetically as I could. “Trust me when I say there’s very little that would be able to take me away right now, and that I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t urgent.”

Her expression went from curious to concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I told her honestly. “But I’m hoping it will be.”

“Will you be safe?”

Her words were as beautiful as they were painful. She still didn’t hold a grudge against me, and even now she was putting me first.

Pushing her hair away from the side of her face with my thumb, I leaned down and touched my lips gently against hers. “I will be. If I don’t get to see you before you leave for work, do you have space in your day to come and see me?”

I meant it. It was important to me that I got that extra time with her before I came home, no matter when it happened.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Wild horses couldn’t have pulled me away from her, but the one person who was considerably smaller than one but a massive pain in the ass could.

Fucking Diego Mantoya, the little hemorrhoid pimple.

Chapter Twelve

Bexley

“Explain it to me like I’m five,” Ava said through my car speakers, and I turned the volume down on them in case she repeated anything I told her.

We’d all been there, pulled up at the lights with someone on their in-car system next to us, every word of their conversation broadcasted to the people around them. There was no way in hell I was risking it.

“You guys were in the process of bumping uglies—”

“Bumping what?”

“Doing the nasty,” she explained, and it clicked.

“I mean, I didn’t get to see his penis during it, but I did before then, and it isn’t ugly. I guess no penis is good looking—”

“Or vagina,” she interrupted, and I had to agree with her.

“I haven’t held a mirror up to my own rose garden, but I’m gonna agree with that,” I shuddered.

“Really? I’ve looked at mine. How do you check to see if you trimmed the bushes equally?”

I blinked at the car in front of me, hoping that we pulled away soon. How many people could hear this?

“I don’t have bushes, per se, more like shrubs—”

“Amen on the non-bush gardens. Imagine if it was super bushy putting a tampon in?”

I grimaced, just as movement to the left of m

e caught my attention.

The first thing I saw was Tom Townsend staring down at me from the truck beside me, his sunglasses lowered so that he was looking over the top of them. His mom was also grinning over his shoulder, her body shaking as she laughed.