Split(42)

Lucas?

His eyes lock on mine and he rips his mouth from hers.

“What do you want, Shy?” She sounds irritated but continues to gaze up adoringly at him. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.

He tilts his forehead down and without his baseball hat, his hair falls over his forehead to reveal glaring, cold-steel eyes. The shadows play off the angles of his face, making him terrifying and alluring at the same time.

“Oh, uh . . .” I point toward the bar. “Loreen wants you.”

Lucas’s hold on Sam tightens, crushing her to his chest so much that she has to grip his biceps to keep from folding backward.

Okay. Message received. He wants her. I’m interrupting.

The rejection boils beneath my skin.

“Tell her I’m busy, cover for me.” Her hand glides up over his shoulder to sift through his hair, which pulls at his attention.

“Yeah, sure.” Any excuse to get away, but I’m not fast enough.

He pulls one of her pigtails almost violently, tilting her head before he smashes his lips to hers. I spin around, but not before I’m witness to the perverse joining of their wet and greedy tongues.

My heart pounds with unwelcome anger. I try to convince myself for the millionth time that the Lucas I came to know doesn’t exist. That he’s not the same man I saw fumbling in the diner who’d lost his mom. He’s not the man who’d smile at the most innocent jokes, who called me ma’am and blushed when I held his gaze a second too long. This man is someone else. So f*ck him. Fuck them both. I don’t need this shit. I’m moving to Oregon, dammit!

Halfway to the bathroom, I’m fighting the urge to double back and rip Sam’s hair out piece by slutty piece and feed it to her when something snags my arm.

“Hey, slow down there, Turbo!”

I glare at a grinning Dustin.

He runs a lazy gaze over me. “Where are you off to so fast?”

Shit! Dustin’s here and less than a few yards away his semi-girlfriend is mouth-f*cking my . . . er . . . another guy! If I were half the bitch I wish I were, I’d lead him right to her, but I’m not. Besides, Lucas is allowed to kiss whoever he wants.

I catch my breath and calm my breathing. “Working.” I point to my apron.

“No shit.” He holds up a mostly empty beer bottle. “Grab me one more.” His heavy eyelids, flushed cheeks, and soggy mouth indicate he probably doesn’t need another. “Chop, chop.” He smiles, as if ordering me around gets him off.

“Whatever, it’s your hangover.”

I reach for the bottle, but he pulls it up higher. I stare at him, unamused, and go for it again, but he snags it just out of my reach. Asshole! With a final huff, I jump to grab it and he moves so that my body crashes into his, chest to chest, belly to belly.

His arms wrap around my waist before I’m able to find my footing and his mouth brushes my earlobe. “Ahh, finally. Miss feeling you in my arms, Shy.”

Is he f*cking kidding?

I tilt my head to speak directly into his ear. “You didn’t miss feeling me when you were f*cking my best friend, did you, Dustin.”

“Of course I did.” He holds me tighter. “I wanted you, but you left. She was a placeholder until you came back.”

“You’re sick.” I try to pull away, but he doesn’t release me. “Let me go.”

“No. Not until you kiss me.”

“Fuck off.” I shove again, but the six-foot-tall dickhead who lifts bags of feed all day is too strong.

“One kiss, Shy. I won’t tell Sam, I promise.” He dips his lips to mine and I turn my face so he slobbers on my cheek. “God, even your skin tastes the same.”

“Get the f*ck off!” I shove at him again, his hold so tight now I can’t catch a full breath.

My eyes search frantically for help, but the noise of the bar combined with the way he’s holding me wouldn’t look like anything more than a couple hugging on the dance floor, drunk and swaying to the music.

He nuzzles my neck and the wet heat of his tongue bathes my throat.

“Please.” I try to get my hands between us to push him away. “Dustin, stop it—”

His body jerks off me. The momentum sends me to the ground. Heat slices through my knee. My palms sting from slapping to the floor to catch my fall.

Dustin jumps to his feet, moves fast, and stands nose to nose with Lucas. “What the f*ck is your problem, man?”

Shit.

Lucas threw him off me?

I hop up, and a sharp pain in my knee makes me limp to stand.

Lucas’s eyes dart from my leg to my face, worry flashing behind a deadly glare, asking a silent question.

“I’m okay.”

He blinks rapidly and seems to relax a little as he turns back to Dustin with the casualness of a lounging tiger. Calm, but deadly.

Dustin shoves Lucas. “Who the f*ck do you think you—” His eyes become tight slits. “Oh, wait a second. I’ve heard about you. You’re the retard working at Jennings.” He shoves Lucas again, but he doesn’t budge and seems completely unfazed.

“Leave him alone!” I push Dustin with two hands, only to have him grab my wrists and pull me into his chest.

“This what you want, retard?” He flips me around to face Lucas, his hands locking my arms at my belly.