Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(27)

He was eyeing his choices when Knox started in on him. “Hey, man, what about dinner. Tomorrow night? Briar will cook up something good.”

Of course she would. His brother’s wife was Betty effing Crocker. North was on his second beer, eyeing a petite blonde dressed in a micromini denim skirt that alerted the world she was wearing a pink G-string—the polar opposite of his uptight neighbor, and that was a good thing. He didn’t need to think about Faith Walters with her nice clothes out on her date. Maybe Fancy Pants would take her back to his place and they would have polite, nice-people sex. Lights off, missionary-style, quiet and civilized, those long legs of hers probably flat on the bed, neglected and unappreciated.

“Hey. Earth to North?”

North grunted, watching as the blonde lifted the bottle to her lips. Instead of drinking from it like a normal person, she played with the mouth of the bottle, circling it with her tongue as she stared at North. It didn’t particularly do anything for him except convey that she was DTF.

“Oh. I see you’ve spotted Mindy. She’s been a regular here since her divorce last year. She’s steadily working her way through the regulars. Loves the hardcore bikers. Looks like she’s taken a shine to you tonight, brother.”

North took a deep swig of his beer, staring at the girl on the other side of the bar who was nothing like Faith. Faith, who was on a date. He wondered where Fancy Pants took her. He snorted. Why should he care how his stick-up-her-ass neighbor spent her nights? He was spending his exactly how he preferred.

The blonde made eye contact with him and nodded for the door. Invitation sent. He nodded back. Invitation accepted.

He started to get up, but Knox stalled him, dropping a hand on his arm. “You can do better than this.”

And by this, he knew his brother wasn’t simply talking about the girl. She was just part of it. Another anonymous woman for him to lose himself in for a night.

Knox continued into the silence, “When is it going to stop, North? You’re thirty-two. You gonna be one of those tired old men who comes to the bar and drinks himself past pain every night? You won’t be young forever. There will come a time when hooking up won’t be so easy and you’ll really be alone.”

“I’m alone now,” he returned, his voice empty, without inflection, as he held his brother’s gaze across the bar top. A bright Budweiser light from behind the bar haloed his brother in red.

“By choice,” Knox shot back. “You don’t have to be.”

“Don’t try to make me into something I’m not. I’m not you. I’m not going to find some nice girl that’s gonna make me forget everything. I can’t do that.” Couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.

Knox stared at him a long moment, looking helpless and not a little guilty, and North regretted that. He didn’t want his brother to feel guilty. North wasn’t his brother’s responsibility.

He shrugged his arm out from beneath his brother’s hand. He jerked his head toward the door. “She’s waiting.”

“We’ll see you for dinner tomorrow?” he called, the hope still there, hanging in his voice.

North looked back. His brother’s gaze searched his own, looking for something. Something that wasn’t there. Not anymore.

“Sure,” he agreed, not sure if he meant it or not, but it was easier to agree at the moment.

He stepped outside of Roscoe’s into the warm night and inhaled. He glanced left and right, looking for the blonde. The blonde who was nothing like Faith.

He walked down the wooden porch steps leading to the bar and caught sight of her. She stood in the parking lot, leaning against the hood of a truck, her elbows propped behind her so that her chest was thrust out.

He moved toward her, burying one hand in his back jeans pocket. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hi there, sexy. Thought you changed your mind about joining me.”

She wasn’t as young as he first thought in the dim confines of the bar. She was at least his age. Maybe older. Out here with Roscoe’s perimeter lights and the sporadically situated parking lot lights, he could see the heavy application of makeup on her skin. It was like a layer of beige primer that failed to hide the drawn and tired flesh of her face. No amount of makeup could disguise the lines and heavy shadows that resembled bruises under her bloodshot eyes.

“C’mere,” she slurred, her hands reaching for him. She grabbed his shirt with two hands, twisting the fabric in her balled-up fists. “Wanna go back to my place?”

He opened his mouth to say yes. Yes. That’s what he wanted. That’s what going out tonight had been about. Find a willing partner. Down a few beers. Fuck like rabbits and then pass out. Sleep a dreamless sleep. The offer was here for the taking. It shouldn’t be so very difficult to find the words to accept.

He closed his hands over hers where they clutched at his shirt. “I . . .” The single syllable stretched long and then faded away.

Apparently it was difficult because staring down at her the only thing he could see was the defeat in her stare. It was a familiar sight. He’d seen it enough times in himself over the years.

He wouldn’t be one more thing, one more reason, chipping away at what remained of her soul.

She read his hesitation. “What?” she asked in her hoarse smoker’s voice. “You want to go to your place? Or we can do it right here in my car?”