Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(57)

That made Bree really mad and she didn’t hesitate to share why.

“Excuse me? Were you not part of the gang up on me about Christos?”

“Bitch, he was scamming you,” Marcy shot back. “Tell you what, I thought that guy was too smooth from the start. He wasn’t my thing. But he was yours. I didn’t say, ‘Listen, babe, he’s too pretty and perfect. It freaks me out.’ I wasn’t sleeping with him. It wasn’t my choice and my opinion didn’t matter. It was only when he started stealing from you that I spoke up. Do you not see the difference?”

Bree opened her mouth.

But our sweet Kyra got there first.

“Marce already said she isn’t comfortable with you being here right now, it’s my place too, and I feel the same. So before you make it worse, maybe you should go and think about what you said to Hellen, but more, what you said about Core. I mean, not only is that not even close to cool, he’s going after Christos and his gang for you. I’m blown away you have so little respect and gratitude. It really stinks.”

“I cannot believe you two are kicking me out.” Bree’s tone was as shocked as her expression.

“We need some space from you.” Marcy affirmed that was where they were at.

Bree glared at her, then Kyra, and for some reason, her longest, most heated glare was at me.

Then she slammed down her fancy glass so hard, I thought she’d break it. She snatched up her purse, walked to the small foyer space and turned on us.

“You all have a lot of thinking to do too,” she informed us.

I had no idea what she expected us to think about, we hadn’t just exposed the bigot within.

But with that, she stormed out.

“Oh my God, that sucked so huge,” Kyra breathed.

“Fuck her. I need a Baconator. Is Wendy’s on DoorDash?” Marcy asked, pushing out of the couch and heading for her phone on the kitchen counter.

I watched Marcy closely.

She had a tough outer shell, but a gooey inner core. She was making a good show of hiding it, but I could still see she was shaken by what just happened and didn’t like it.

“Yes,” Kyra answered. “But Hell had Wendy’s last night.”

I pulled out my own phone. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”

I did, and Marcy was so upset, she deserted the mixologist duties she never shirked and opened a bottle of wine.

We all went on with our evening, pretending that didn’t happen.

But it happened.

And we didn’t talk about it (then), but I figured we all had the same worry.

Because that scene was so gross, it might have meant the end of a friend.





I was not one of those chicks who got belly flutters or bounced.

I was also not one of those chicks who grappled with the dating game and agonized over what was the right play to make in any given situation.

In other words, when I got home earlier than I normally would after cocktails with my friends (because, let’s face it, we weren’t in the mood), the normal me would not hesitate to call Core because I wanted to hear his voice.

This new belly-fluttering, bouncing me wondered if he’d think I was being too keen if I called him.

Furthermore, I wanted to talk out Bree’s bullshit, and since it had been about him, and she hadn’t been nice about him, I couldn’t share that.

Still, I wanted to hear his voice.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, curled into my couch and touched go on my phone.

It only rang a couple of times before he answered, “Yo, babe. All cool?”

No.

Though him sounding normal and happy to hear from me and not reticent and wondering why I was phoning when we had plans the next night so I needed to back off did make me feel a little better.

“Yes.”

“You home?”

“Yes.”

“Good night?”

No.

“We all had a fight with Bree.”

“What?”

“Bree was being…uncool and it pissed us all off. So much, Marcy and Kyra kicked her out. And I’ll share that isn’t our normal MO. We usually get along really well. And for sure no one has ever kicked anyone out.”

“It happens,” he said.

“What happens?”

“You grow out of people.”

For a second, I was stunned at his simple wisdom.

“Especially at your age,” he continued. “You start to get stuck into life. See what’s important, what’s not. What the road ahead of you looks like. And who you want on it.”

“Uh, do you know my age?”

“Yup.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

Just as I suspected.

“Does the age difference concern you at all?” I asked hesitantly.

“If it did, my dick wouldn’t have been in you twice last night.”

That made me start laughing, partly due to relief.

It also made me think of our second go around after we got back from Wendy’s, which of course produced a flutter.

“Does it concern you?” he asked.

“Not if you’re going to lay wisdom on me to make me feel better about the fact I’m understanding that I’m drifting away from a person who’s been an important part of my life for six years.”