Speed King (Men of Action 1)
“I was at work.”
“No fucking shit. That’s why she came. She knew there was no chance of running into you, and since you’ve blown her off for so long, she didn’t have to face another round of disappointment. I think you’re a damn fool if you continue this.”
“Not having this conversation with you.”
“You’d rather have it with me than Talon or Ford because I can bet your ass they’re ready to lay into you.”
“Highly doubtful.”
“You would say that because you’re wrapped up in your warped head, and you don’t see what everyone else sees. What they told you at the gym this morning was only the half of it. When you went half-cocked and knocked that punching bag to the ground, they knew it was up to me to explain the rest. Jay is confused, and that’s not fair. It was obvious last night in her actions. She was quiet and detached, kind of tiptoeing around the place like she didn’t belong even though she was invited. She acted the part, but you could tell she was uncomfortable. There wasn’t one word of protest when Ford roasted her ass in racing and we know he cheated. She wasn’t the same woman. I get your reasoning, but it’s time to rethink your plan.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Stop avoiding her. Go back to being her friend.”
“Her friend?”
“Yeah, simple stuff. Text her, call her, take her to coffee, ask about her life. Stop ignoring her. Keep it simple and platonic. Then, maybe as you carry on with this stupid fucking charade of being aloof, she’ll finally clue in that you’re not interested and move on. Like I said, be her friend.”
Plastic cuts into my hand as I crush the water bottle in an attempt not to take him down. “I don’t want to be her motherfucking friend and you know it.”
“I thought I knew it by the way you acted at Tom’s, but seeing her last night made me rethink my stance. Anyone who loves her wouldn’t put her through this. Maybe you don’t love her. SITFU and be her friend.”
A red film clouds my vision, and I’m about one second away from jumping the distance between us. The air in the room turns hot as I mentally try to control my anger. My entire body tenses, muscles strung so tight I feel my pulse ticking in my jaw. There’s a ringing in my ears at his implications. This morning is not the morning to fuck with me about Harley, and definitely not the time to mention her moving on. Telling me to suck it the fuck up isn’t smart. We don’t talk about shit like love and feelings, but these guys have always known, without bringing the emotions into it, how I feel.
And right now, I feel like kicking my best friend’s ass.
His lips split into a wide grin and he laughs, the sound grating on my already overactive nerves. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Are you aiming for a death wish?” I grind out.
“No, I’m changing my side. As of today, I’m officially on Rich and Amanda’s team. Get your head out of your ass and make your move. It’s time. And if it was me, I’d find a way to be charming. She may love you, but she’s got a stubborn streak that mirrors yours. My money is on her teaching you a lesson.” He waltzes out of the kitchen, leaving the words hanging.
They sink in and I throw the crushed bottle across the room. “Son of a bitch!” I yell, hearing his laughter from down the hall.
He knew exactly how to bait me, and it worked. I check my watch, and my adrenaline races for an entirely different reason. Harley’s yoga class is over in an hour. That gives me very little time to shower and figure out what the fuck I’m doing.
I lean against the front of my truck, taking in the trendy strip mall that looks like all the others in the area. Both ends capped with drive-thru windows, one a dry-cleaners and the other a non-chain coffee shop. In between are small businesses, including a yoga and Pilates studio. The windows are tinted, but once in a while, I catch a shadow of movement.
I check my watch again, thinking that she should have been done five minutes ago. The eerie feeling of being watched prickles at my skin, and my eyes scan the area. A growl builds deep in my throat when I spot the assholes. Major is leaning casually against his driver’s side door talking with Talon, Ford, and Officer Randall, who are standing outside of their police SUV.
They’re all smiling, eyes on me as I whip off my sunglasses to glare. “Killing them all.” I take a step forward right when the studio door opens and a string of women file out. At first, I think the glare must be bad, but after blinking a few times, it’s clear. The women are covered in sweat, red-faced, and some of them slow-moving. Harley is in the middle of the pack, and my chest seizes at the vision. Her tank top is plastered to her torso and chest, the red fabric more of a burgundy. Her braided hair is held back with a sweatband that is barely containing a few flyaway curls. She’s turned to the woman next to her, talking. As if she feels my presence, her head pops up, and she stops mid-stride.