And I realized, just sitting near her was causing paranoia. I didn’t want her to have my drink or put anything in it, so I decided to what? Get drunk off my ass?
“I see what you did there,” I whispered. “Clever.”
“Just wait.” She bit down on her bottom lip in a way that drove me insane—and she knew it. My blood heated as my hands balled into fists. The waitress came and went, and I was thankful I wasn’t sporting spandex shorts anymore.
Because it would be impossible to hide how much Austin affected me—how much she always would.
Suddenly she glanced at her phone and then at the door; her smile grew and I didn’t like it. It gave me that funny feeling in my gut again—like all hell was about to break loose, and I was going to be the unlucky target of whatever scheme she’d thought up in that gorgeous head of hers.
“Dad!” she shouted.
“Oh, freaking hell.” I closed my eyes briefly before opening them and standing.
Her dad was a pompous ass.
A protective, pompous ass.
So the fact that I had broken his baby girl’s heart? Well . . . let’s just say I was suddenly really thankful he was a Democrat and voted for gun control.
“Bradley.” I held out my hand.
He stared at it, then slowly gripped my hand viciously hard, pumping it a bit too hard for my liking before releasing it. “So, I hear you’re going to race with us?”
“Us?” I repeated.
“Daddy!” Austin giggled. “I told you it was a surprise, but oh well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag!”
I forced a smile.
“Team Rogers!” Bradley nodded and slapped me hard on the shoulder. “Why, we’ve taken first place every year.”
Well. Shit.
“First, you say?” I struggled to find my breath. I couldn’t even ride a bike let alone beat someone else on it! Maybe they’d still count me if I carried a ten-speed over the finish line? No? “That’s really impressive.”
“We don’t lose.” His eyes narrowed as he jabbed a finger against my collarbone. “But one of the guys is out, and when Austin mentioned how much you enjoyed cycling, I figured what the hell, you know? Bury the hatchet and all.”
There was a hatchet?
Just how big was this hatchet?
“That’s very big of you, Daddy.” Austin stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You here meeting someone?”
His eyes darted between the two of us. “A work friend.” His easy smile was back. “Thatch, we ride this Friday at six a.m.! We’ll meet at Gas Works Park.”
He shook my hand again and walked off.
Six. Freaking. A.m.
Austin turned to me with a triumphant grin. “Do you want me to tell him? Or should you?”
Thankfully, the waitress had returned with another drink. I downed half of it and sat in the hard wooden chair while Lucas and Avery both stared at me with laughter written all over their amused faces.
“Laugh all you want.” I shook my head and grabbed my glass again. “But I don’t back down from a challenge!” Why the hell was I shouting?
“Dude.” Lucas cleared his throat and wiped a tear from under his eye. “Last time you tried—”
“Not now!” I roared. “Damn it, man, do you keep any secrets?”
“No,” Avery piped up.
“Do any of you have any idea how traumatizing it is to just get back on the bike after—”
“Stop overreacting.” Lucas waved his hand in front of my face. “That ice cream truck missed you by a mile at least.”
All heads turned toward him.
“Thanks, man. Thanks a lot,” I grumbled, sipping the rest of my drink, well on my way to committing to a constant state of drunkenness.
Damn Austin.
“Ice cream truck?” Avery just had to point out as she whipped her head in my direction, humor gleaming in her green eyes. “How old were you?”
“Lucas, I swear to all that is holy, if you open your mouth, I will punch you in the face.”
“I guess that explains number twenty, ‘Hates ice cream.’” Austin sighed and twirled her two straws around in her drink. “I’m pretty sure hating ice cream is right up there with hating children.”
“Which really explains so much, don’t you think?” I countered in a condescending tone as I eyed her up and down. It was a low blow. It was mean. It was also necessary to get her the hell off my back.
God, I didn’t want this.
Though a part of me knew I deserved it.
I should have never, ever, ever, allowed her in.
Because as much as I’d like to think I’d pushed her off the relationship cliff, she was pretty damn good at clawing her way back to the top just so she could be the one to shove me off it.
“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” she sang, and then glanced at her phone. “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but I have a professor who hates me and a final project I haven’t even started.” She stood and gave me a pitiful glance. “Which is too bad, since I’d love to teach you how to ride sometime.”
I felt that look all the way down to my toes.
But mainly I felt that look where I sure as hell shouldn’t have.
Between my legs.
It took every ounce of strength I had to level her with a glare and say, “I guess turnabout’s fair play, since I taught you to ride first.”
Lucas spit out his drink while Avery groaned into her hands.
Austin tilted her head. “Did you, though?”
“Okay!” Avery waved her hands between us. “So, this social media class and hateful professor? What’s that all about?”
Austin seemed to deflate as she grabbed her keys out of her purse and snarled in Avery’s direction. “My professor’s just looking for a way to fail me—apparently, he hates any girl student who doesn’t have giant boobs. He passes the girls with the big boobs and the guys who salivate over his ability to get his own students into bed. Disgusting, really.”
I frowned at Austin’s chest. She had a great rack, a gorgeous rack, I would know, I’d seen it. What the hell kind of professor wouldn’t pass her?
“I’m late enough to gain his unwanted attention and probably the only student who doesn’t fall all over herself for him. Anyways”—she grabbed her leather jacket and shrugged into it, pulling her pretty, dark brown hair with golden highlights over the soft black material—“for my final project, I have to start either a blog or a YouTube channel and gain a following of more than a hundred people to pass the class, which may sound easy, but I’ve been procrastinating, and it’s due in three weeks.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “I still don’t have any ideas.”
I snorted. “Shocking, since when it comes to payback, you’re the Queen Bitch.” Okay, yeah, I was more than buzzed. It slipped out. All of it. The nasty words and the hurtful way my voice echoed them, like she was really getting to me.
Maybe because she was.
“That’s it!” Avery shouted, slamming her hand down on the table and scaring the shit out of Lucas enough for him to choke on a peanut and almost need the Heimlich.
“What?” Austin frowned. “What’s it?”
“Thatch!” Avery shouted gleefully.
And I was waving down the waitress for a third time.
I was going to kick Lucas’s ass if I ended up in AA.
“What about Thatch?” Lucas looked as confused as I felt.
“Austin.” I hated the way Avery’s eyes lit up like she’d just found a way to solve world hunger—and I was the answer. “Start a blog about hating your ex!”
My mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, start a what blog?”
Avery was rubbing her hands together as Austin’s smile grew wider and wider.
“So, document how to hate an ex?” Austin asked. “I think I’ve got that down.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
Hate was a strong word, too strong. Did she really hate me? And wasn’t that the plan
all along? Use her hate, use her anger?
“Yes!” Avery held up her hand for a high five. “You can do weekly blog posts on how to break up with your cheating boyfriend, share your story.” Avery glanced over at me. “Sorry, Thatch.” And then she looked back at Austin. “It’s perfect!”
“But what would I call it?”
“Cheated.” This from Lucas.
“Thanks, man.” I saluted him with my middle finger. “Oh also, you’re dead to me.”
“Ah, you said that a few hours ago, and look, still friends.”
He lifted his beer in acknowledgment of our ended friendship and smirked.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Austin narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s not like I’m going to air all your dirty, skanky laundry. This will totally be from the scorned person’s point of view! I can add in articles from different women’s magazines and BuzzFeed, and post quizzes!”
“Yes!” Avery giggled. “Quizzes like ‘Is Your Man Faithful?’ ‘Does He Have a Small Wiener?’”
All eyes fell to me.
“I’m a plastic surgeon,” I said evenly. “If it started small, it sure as hell isn’t that way now.” I grinned tightly at Austin. “Right, sweetheart?”
She blinked slowly and then narrowed her gaze at my crotch. “You know? I can’t really remember.”
I smirked and leaned in close. “The hell you can’t.”
“Okay.” Lucas stood and put a hand on my chest. “Maybe I should cut you off.”
“Thanks for the idea, Avery!” Austin waved at us. “I’ll think about it.” She hugged Lucas and then gave me a chilly glare before turning on her heel and walking away.
Lucas whistled. “You couldn’t just listen to your best friend when he first told you to leave her the hell alone. No, you had to go and show her your bedroom and then your cock. I warned you, man.”
I didn’t respond as my eyes followed Austin’s body until the door to the bar slammed behind her.
I had nothing in my defense.
Because men like me, men like my father, we didn’t understand commitment—something he reminded me of on a daily basis.
The minute he moved back to Seattle.
And into the same building as me.
Chapter Seven