The Rebel (Red's Tavern 2)

“Bandit,” I scolded him, and he got excited, padding off down the hallway to my room, where I was sure he’d been playing with other socks all night.

A door in the middle of the hallway opened and Katie peeked out, smiling at me.

“You’re back early,” she said, crossing over into the living room.

“Yeah. Can you do me a favor and put me in a time machine, so I can go back and punch myself for ever thinking it was a good idea to talk to Red again?”

“Shit,” she said. “It was that bad?”

“Shitshow,” I said.

I’d been running on pure adrenaline the entire time I was in Red’s Tavern. I had expected to be a little emotional, but I was overwhelmed by how fucking proud I was of Red for everything he’d accomplished. Ten years ago, in LA, he’d just been a bartender with a dream of starting his own one day.

Katie came over, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. Her short blonde hair smelled like coconut.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” she said.

“It doesn’t help that he’s ten times more gorgeous now than he was before,” I said.

“Still all cowboy-hot?”

“Every bit. He looks like a damn movie star.”

She pulled in a breath through her teeth, giving me a sympathetic look. “Annoying. It would have been easier if he didn’t look great.”

“You’re sure as shit right about that.”

I had wondered if I’d still be as attracted to him now after so many years. That question had been shattered pretty fast. He was almost forty years old now, and he had aged like a fucking top-shelf whiskey.

He’d been wearing worn-in jeans that fit like a glove, a simple tight, white T-shirt, and his signature cowboy boots. He clearly still kept in shape, and his auburn brown hair was thick as ever. Back in the day, he’d always kept it shaggy, but now he had it short on the sides and a little longer on top, and it really did make him look like some old film star. His jawline was still so strong, and his honey-brown eyes….

His eyes still fucking felt like home to me. Even though I knew damn well they weren’t.

Katie cocked her head to one side. “Is his name really Red?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, like, that’s his actual, birth certificate name?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s what he’s always been called. His full name is Lawrence Redford, but I don’t think anyone has ever called him Lawrence. It’s weird even saying it.”

“Lawrence definitely doesn’t sound as cool-cowboy as Red.”

I rubbed my palms over my face. “Both sound good to me. For God’s sake, he could be called Ralphie McMuddy Fucknuggets and I’d still be into him.”

Katie giggled. “That would be Mr. Fucknuggets to you.”

I puffed out a laugh before the heaviness settled back in my chest.

“He’ll warm up,” Katie said, ever the optimist. “It sounded like things ended badly with you two. Maybe he just needs to get to know who you are now.”

“I’d bet a lot of money that warming up isn’t anywhere on Red’s agenda,” I said.

“You said he was a good friend of yours,” Katie said, furrowing her brow. I pulled off my jacket and sat down on the couch, my hair still wet from the rain outside.

“I’m starting to wonder if all my confidence with him wasn’t just an effect of how much alcohol I was constantly drinking back in the day.”

“Fuck that,” Katie said. “You’re just getting used to things, but believe me, you’ve still got that spark in you.”

“How do you know?”

She grinned. “Because you still piss me off at least twice a day.”

I snorted. “Fair enough. I piss myself off at least ten times a day, if it’s any consolation. But I… I know I should have done everything differently with Red.”

She perked up. “Usually I’d go fix you a drink, but that’s not happening,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back again, holding a tangerine in each hand. “So here. Nothing fresh citrus can’t fix.”

I snorted a laugh. “A nice tangerine to take the edge off?”

“This is that good, 90-proof, top-shelf tangerine,” she said with a smile. “It’ll make you forget all your problems. Way better than liquor, anyway.”

I peeled one, biting into a juicy slice. “I think I’m already feeling it. Perfect idea.”

“I do my best,” she said, sitting down next to me on the couch. “Plenty more where those came from. I can help you get drunk as fuck on tangerine juice.”

Katie and I had been friends for the last five years. She was my main tattoo artist in LA, and after she’d tattooed me over a dozen times, we became good friends. She had no idea about my past relationship with Red until recently.

Katie had flown out with me to Kansas last week when I first came here. She’d been staying with me all week, helping me get furniture in my new place and keeping me company in this tiny town. For a few weeks before that, I’d been holed up in her apartment in LA, hiding from Colin and slowly saying no to every video opportunity that NaughtyBoyz offered me.