A Redo (Sterling Shore 6)

“You’ll dance in private like that?” I ask, noticing the husky tone my voice has taken and the achingly hard appendage that is pressing against the zipper of my jeans now. Boxers really should be thicker.

She grinds her hips against me, and I hiss out a breath when her ass rubs me in a torturing circle.

“You’re right,” I growl. “I’d probably end up in a fight if you danced like that in public.”

She laughs, but it feels strained. I can almost feel her wanting to ask a question, but she doesn’t.

“You two coming to Tag’s tomorrow?” Allie asks Corbin and Maverick.

I might have been avoiding Tag and Rye since the shit with Billy, but tomorrow I’ll have no choice but to face them.

“Yeah,” Corbin answers, tearing his gaze away from the redhead who is still dancing with her back turned. “We’ll be there all day. Super Bowl Sunday, baby,” he adds, winking at her.

My jaw grinds, and I glare at him. Maverick notices. “Chill, Wren. Corbin has shut down. Ruby isn’t even back yet, and his dick is in hibernation. He’s all talk nowadays. Believe me. He’s sucking as a wingman.”

Corbin punches Maverick in the arm, telling him to shut the fuck up, but now Allie seems intrigued.

“Is Ruby your girlfriend?” she asks innocently.

Corbin chugs some of his beer as an excuse not to answer.

“No,” Maverick answers, mischief in his eyes. Corbin walks to the bar to order another beer while Maverick continues. “Ruby was our best friend until she moved away when she was thirteen—a few weeks before Rain moved in. Corbin went to see her every summer, or she came back with her dad to see him. No clue what happened, but they dated a few times, and it ended every time—well, obviously. If you start asking him about it, he blushes. If you keep pushing, he tries to shift the subject. If you continue to pry, he finds a reason to walk away. Watch this.”

The second Corbin returns, Maverick—being the taunting ass he is—sets out to prove his point.

“So no clue when Ruby is coming back?” Maverick asks.

Corbin tenses immediately, seeming to know Maverick is up to no good.

“Nope. She keeps getting delayed because of one of her other shops. She ended up having to train a new manager, and her stepmom is here, covering the Sterling Shore shop for her until she can return.”

Allie looks confused, so I lean down. “Ruby owns a chain of tattoo parlors. Her dad and she are co-owners, actually.”

Maverick starts in again, and Corbin glares at him. “If you’re not dating her, then why not pick out one of the hotties here to take home? You’ve been acting like a loyal boyfriend lately.”

“Fuck you,” Corbin mutters.

“What happened when you two were dating?”

Corbin blushes, as if on cue, and it’s pretty fucking funny to see a guy as big and muscled up as Corbin blush like a girl.

“Maverick…”

His tone is warning, but Maverick continues. “Seriously, dude. I’m dying to know. Was the sex bad or something?”

Corbin shifts awkwardly. “So, the redhead. You going after her or not?” he asks, trying to shift the subject.

“Not if you want her. Go on. Will Ruby get mad if you screw around? I mean, if you’re not dating, what does it matter?”

“I need a beer,” Corbin says, still holding his fresh beer.

Maverick laughs before grabbing his arm. “Just fucking with you. I’ll stop.”

Corbin relaxes, and even I admit I’m intrigued. What the hell is up with Ruby Kross and Corbin Sterling?

“The redhead has my full attention since you’re not going to bag and tag her,” Maverick crudely states, eyeing the redhead’s ass like a steak.

Finally, the mystery woman turns, and both Sterling men spew beer across the room at the same time. My jaw pops open seconds before my painful outburst of laughter spills free, and Allie tilts her head while both Sterlings unleash a litany of surprised curses.

“Isn’t that Britt Sterling? Dane’s sister?” Allie asks, now clearly amused.

“Motherfucker,” Maverick groans. “My eyes. My eyes are burning and my brain needs to be bleached. I’m never having sex again.”

Corbin gags as though he’s just a breath away from retching, and Allie scoots away to get out of the line of fire in case he does.

“Damn it, Britt!” Corbin yells, still trying to wipe his mouth free of the beer he just spat out.

Britt hears him, and her gaze finds us, her doe-eyed innocent expression only causing me to laugh harder. She walks toward us in the shortest, tightest dress known to man, and her cleavage is popping out of the top.

But the sexual appeal she held to the Sterlings seems to be lost now. They’re both glaring at her like angry big brothers. I feel sorry for any guy who attempts to climb that mountain.

“What?” she asks when she reaches us.