Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

“I feel for you,” she says. “You work with Machlan’s brother all day and then hang out with Machlan all night. How do you cope?”

“Well, Walker gives me money, and I turn around and give it to Machlan. They have a good system, if you think about it.”

“Would be brilliant if you actually paid all your tab.” I try to ignore Hadley, but that lasts two seconds. “What’s going on in your life?”

“On vacation,” she says quickly. “No girlfriend, Peck?”

“Nah, Molly hasn’t come around yet.” He tears at the corner of his beer label. “She will, though.”

“You deserve better than her,” Hadley insists. “I have this friend who I think you’d love. She—”

“Leave Peck alone. He’s a big boy. He can handle his own shit.” I grab a rag from beneath the counter and wipe an invisible spot between them so I don’t have to see the enjoyment in Peck’s eyes that I’m actually working my way into their conversation.

Peck tips his beer my way. “Is that a vote of confidence I hear?”

“Nah, more like if you want to hate yourself and go after Molly, then go for it.”

“Better than ending up like you.”

My head snaps up. A giant smirk is plastered on his face. The only thing that keeps me from going down that road is that Hadley is sitting a few feet away.

I toss the rag on the counter. “Hear that, Peck?”

“Hear what?”

“That. It’s your thirty seconds is winding down …”

Peck lifts off the stool. “I gotta go … do somethin’. Find me if you somehow score a drink and need a ride home, Had.” He stops short of leaving. “How long you gonna be in town?”

“I’m not sure. I had some vacation saved at my old job and don’t start my new one until the first. I’m just going with the flow for a few days.”

“Well, if you wanna head up to Bluebird, find me. We can go tear some shit up,” Peck says.

The end of their conversation is blurred by the white noise strumming past my eardrums as I watch the two of them make plans that don’t involve me. I have half a notion to interject, to take control like I usually do, and just call the shots. But I don’t.

Hadley left town because of me. She moved away from her brother and her friends because I’m a jackass.

The longer she’s gone, the deeper the guilt gets. There’s no way to fix it, though. The things I’ve done, the hurt I’ve caused this sweet girl, are things I can’t pretend she should forgive me for.

I’ve seen her a few times since the morning over a year ago when mascara-laced tears rolled down her cheeks, but I can’t shake that vision. Her hair a tousled mess from my hands being in it the night before. Her lip quivering as she waited for me to change my mind. There was hope in her eyes that I didn’t mean to put there, but I suppose I did. I did it a couple of times too many already. It’s why I can’t do it again.

Peck knocks on the bar top as he leaves, as if he’s doing me a solid and bringing me back to the present.

“I came for a drink,” she says.

“Yeah, that would work except you don’t drink.”

“Maybe I started.”

I lift a brow. If she’s fucking with me, and I’m ninety-percent sure she is, she’s doing a damn good job. My blood heats as it rolls through my veins, and I have to force out the thought of her drinking with people who aren’t, well, me. As the devil on my shoulder offers up other things she might be doing with people who aren’t me, the vein in my temple throbs.

“I asked for a rum and Coke,” she says, pressing her lips together.

“I heard.”

“Damn it, Machlan. Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?”

“How am I being difficult? I’m just standing here.”

Her lips part as though she’s on the cusp of firing back one of her typical smartass retorts, but she surprises me: she closes her mouth.

The good thing is she shuts up. The bad thing is I can’t tear my eyes way from the way her pucker plumps in a pout that sends a shockwave straight to my cock.

Fucking hell.

“Does your brother know you’re home?” I ask.

Because if he didn’t warn me, I’m gonna kick his ass.

“No. He thinks I’m coming in tomorrow.”

The stool next to her rattles as a man who was just here sidles up beside her. “Beer,” he demands and stretches his tattooed arms out too close to her for comfort.

Feet planted in place, right arm twitching to launch a shot at his weak-ass chin, I grit my teeth. Hadley flips her gaze my way before angling her body toward the douchebag.