Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“Barnaby.”

I chuckled. “Seriously? That’s a far cry from Tugboat.”

He shrugged. “Mom calls me Barnes. But everyone else…”

“What do you prefer?”

“Whatever people want to call me.”

That was kind of sad. I hated he thought he didn’t have a choice in the matter but didn’t call him on it. “How did you get the nickname?”

He brightened. “My dad always called me that. He said I did the heavy lifting. Tugboat. It just stuck, I guess.” There was a pause. “Can I ask you a question? Do you like that guy?”

I let the air flow out of my nose before I answered. “I don’t want to,” I finally admitted.

“Figures. I knew it was a long shot.”

Though he didn’t say it, I assumed he was referring to his chances with me. “I thought you were into Haley.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have a chance with her. She’s into the fancy guys.”

I gave him a quizzical glance, trying not to be insulted. “And me?”

“No shot with you, either. But at least you see me.”

“What?” I said, confused.

“Most people don’t notice me. But you, you don’t ignore that I’m around.”

I lifted on my toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re worth seeing.”

Emotions welled up in me. Why couldn’t l fall for a guy like him? Why did I have to like bastards?

As if reading my mind, he asked, “Can I offer some advice?” I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he might say. “My cousin tells me that all the single women in town are fawning all over Nate, bringing him meals or taking any excuse to see him.” That didn’t surprise me one bit. “And he hasn’t asked any of them out except you.”

“He didn’t ask me out,” I said in my defense.

“He asked you to dance and no one else.”

I waved a hand toward the open door. “He’s dancing now.”

“Because they asked him, not the other way around. He likes you a lot, from what I can see.”

I wasn’t giving that any oxygen. Tugboat had it all wrong. So I did something else. I held out my hand. “Come with me.”

Slowly, Tugboat put his hand in mine. I led him back inside and found a spot on the wall opposite the bar area.

“See that girl?” I didn’t point at her but kept my eyes in her direction so he’d follow my gaze. “Yellow dress, and she’s looking right at you.” I turned to look at him and saw his surprise. I lifted on my toes and whispered in his ear. “She’s totally into you.”

“I—I…” he stuttered.

“I know you think she’s cute. Go for it.” I shoved him forward a little and smiled to myself for my good deed. I pictured them with lots of babies in the future.

“Playing matchmaker, I see.”

I grabbed my chest because Nathaniel—no, Nate—had scared the bejesus out of me. “Are you a stalker, too?” I asked.

“Don’t pretend your eyes haven’t been on me all night.”

“How could you possibly know unless you’ve been watching me?” Take that, I thought. Score one for me.

“Touché. I was just watching out for your fanboy in case I had to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Fanboy has a name. And he’s everything you’re not.”

“What’s that? Handsome, well-endowed, rich? Should I go on?”

“Kind, pleasant to be around, good-looking—”

“But not fuckable. Admit it.”

“Does everything have to be about sex?”

“I think it’s a valid question when you are looking at potential partners and Fanboy doesn’t tick that box for you.”

“Can you stop calling him that? Besides, you don’t have to think about sex with us as it’s never going to happen—with me.”

I had one of my legs bent, with my foot perched on the wall behind me. I pushed off, but he caught my wrist. “You know my name. What’s yours? Or should I continue to call you Haley?”

“You won’t be calling me, and you haven’t earned the right to know my name.”

His lips twitched, and with that, I walked away.

I found Haley wrapped in Agan’s arms. I wanted to call it a night. Nate was getting under my skin and not in a completely bad way. Something about our verbal sparring made me like him a little more than I should have. I wanted another drink, as one beer had done very little, and got another. I’d just put the Solo cup in the bin next to the table with all the cups when the DJ said, “Let’s take it down a notch.”

The overhead lights went off and the room was left in only the glow of the crisscrossing string of overhead lights as a song came on that I remembered my mom singing once. A hand caught mine as I tried to remember the name of it. I was twirled before landing on a hard chest.

“I bet you could sing the hell out of this song.”