Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

“Good. Why don’t you stay with my parents tonight?”

“What? No.” I scoffed.

“Don’t want you home alone.”

“I lived there alone for months before your happy ass moved in.”

“Heather, can you just sleep there tonight?” he asked. “Don’t wanna worry about you, alright?”

It had only been hours since I’d seen him, but the exhaustion in his voice was clear. I immediately felt like shit for arguing with him about something that didn’t even matter.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll stay with your parents tonight.”

“Thanks, baby.” He sighed. “I only got a minute. Can you put my dad on?”

“Sure.” I turned around and motioned for Grease to come take the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I said to Tommy. “Here’s your dad.”

As soon as I’d handed the phone to Grease I wanted to snatch it right back. Tommy was right there, on the other end of the line, and I hated that he was talking to someone else. I wanted to hear his voice again. I wanted to hear the sound of him breathing and the rustle of his clothes.

It was crazy how close we’d grown. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d come to depend on him until he was suddenly out of reach. Somehow, in the midst of our secrets and deceptions he’d become my person. Like he’d said before, we were a team.

I walked to a couch across the room, ignoring the conversation happening at the bar. They weren’t discussing anything I needed to know. Tommy was stuck in jail until Monday, but we’d found him a lawyer. I bent over and rested my forehead on my knees, letting out a shuddering breath.

There wasn’t anything we could do until Monday.

“Come on,” Grease called, walking toward me. “Thomas said you’re stayin’ with us tonight.”

I lifted my head from my knees and then straightened completely as Grease got closer. “I can drive the Nova over there—” my words trailed off as Grease made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Even if my son hadn’t told me not to let ya drive the Nova, hearin’ the prospects laugh about how you were grindin’ gears woulda convinced me to keep ya away from her,” he said in amusement. “You can ride with me. Brought the truck in today since I thought I’d be haulin’ shit to the dump.”

“Are you sure it’s okay with Callie?” I asked as I got to my feet.

Callie had always been nice to me and she’d practically invited me to live with them when I was a kid, but things were different now. She no longer had a house full of kids at any given moment, and I wasn’t a teenager anymore, looking for a home cooked meal and a mother that paid attention.

“Yeah, it’s all good,” he replied gruffly, leading me outside. “I texted her when I got off the phone with Tommy. She knows you’re comin’.”

I nodded uncomfortably. As soon as we got outside I grabbed my purse out of the Nova and followed Grease to the little pickup he was driving. It was missing the front bumper and was two different colors like someone had slapped two trucks together and decided it was finished.

“It ain’t pretty, but it runs,” Grease announced as we climbed inside the truck.

The interior smelled a little like feet, and there were fast food wrappers all over the floorboard, giving me a pretty clear view of where Tommy had picked up his disgusting habits.

“You need to clean out your truck,” I mumbled, pulling my seatbelt on. “This is disgusting.”

“I want your opinion, I’ll let ya know,” he replied dryly.

“Seriously,” I continued, like he hadn’t even spoken. “This must be a hazard. One of these wadded up Taco Bell bags could roll to your floorboard and get wedged under the brake pedal or something.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

“I can’t.” I shook my head and searched around my seat, finally finding a crumpled up grocery bag between my seat and the door. “God, you gotta stop eating this shit,” I mumbled. “Do you see this? It doesn’t even mold!” I lifted up a breakfast sandwich and banged it against the dash.

“How the hell did I forget what a pain in the ass you were?” he asked, glancing at me.

“We tend to block out the bad shit,” I replied, making a sound of disgust as I found an open ketchup packet on the floorboard. “Which is hopefully what I’m going to do the minute I step out of this truck.”

“How the hell does my son put up with your shit?” he asked. “You bitch at him constantly?”

“No.” I snorted. “He’s easy to train.”

Grease laughed. “All men are easy to train if their women know how to do it. Shit,” he drew out the last word. “Callie’s got me wrapped around her fuckin’ finger. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”