On the Rocks (Last Call #1)(52)

“I don’t think he’s interested,” Alyssa says carefully.

I look at her in surprise, even as Brody says, “No thanks.”

He turns to start walking back toward the end of the bar. I glance at Alyssa, and she’s got her head cocked to the side, looking at Brody in curiosity.

“It’s really not that hard,” Alyssa says with some encouragement. “Helping feed and water the animals, clean cages, some grooming.”

Brody doesn’t even turn around but busies himself rearranging liquor bottles behind the bar. “Not interested.”

“Brody, dude,” I interject, because I think this is stupid to turn down this opportunity. “This is right up your alley. You love dogs.”

“It’s actually fun, getting to play with and exercise the animals,” Alyssa chimes in, her voice soft and reassuring. She is smiling at Brody, trying to force the look onto his back, which is turned against us, but there’s no way her pretty face is penetrating.

I decide to hit him again, make sure he understands the importance of getting this community service done. “I really think—”

“I don’t give a f*ck what you think,” Brody roars as he spins around, glaring at me. “It’s none of your f*cking business what I have to do, and I sure as hell don’t need any hand-outs from some snotty, rich bitch heiress either.”

His last statement is punctuated with a glare toward Alyssa, who gasps over his harsh words.

I’m stunned speechless, having just witnessed Brody going from meek mouse to enraged bull in a nanosecond. Opening my mouth, I start to lay into him for calling Alyssa a bitch but she jumps off the stool, throws a twenty on the counter, and runs from the bar.

“Alyssa,” I call out after her, getting off the stool.

As she flees, she collides into Gabby, who has just stepped out of the hallway that leads into my office. She mumbles an apology and sprints for the door. Gabby’s eyes turn toward me, and I simply say, “Go after her.”

Gabby takes off after Alyssa and, as I hear the front door slam behind Gabby, I turn to Brody with barely contained rage. “What f*ck was that? Have you lost your ever-loving mind, talking to Alyssa that way?”

For a brief moment, Brody’s eyes go sad and fill with regret, but in a flash, it’s gone. Instead, his face is awash with menace and he snarls, “I’m a f*cking ex-con, Hunter. I’ve been in prison… not charm school… the last five years.”

His words pierce me, and I sigh. “I know, but you would never have done that to her before you went away. Have you forgotten your basic manners?”

Brody steps out from behind the bar, still holding the rag in his hand. He walks up to me and gets in my face. His voice is arctic when he says, “Yes, Hunter. I’ve forgotten all of it. That’s a life I don’t have any more, so there’s no sense in remembering a damn thing about it. This is your brother now. I’ve been shaped into something else these last five years and if you don’t like it… Well, I could give a flying f*ck.”

Throwing the rag on the floor, he turns his back on me and starts heading for the door. “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he says as he walks away. “Fire me if you want—I don’t give a shit.”

I follow Brody out the door. Gabby is standing with Alyssa beside her car. Alyssa looks okay, but Gabby has her arm around her shoulder.

“You’re an *, Brody,” Gabby hisses at him as he walks by.

He doesn’t even look at her. “Yup. That I am.”

Gabby turns to me, her eyes wild and confused. I look back at her helplessly, because I have no clue what the f*ck just happened, or whether my brother can even be saved from himself.





Casey and I stand on the porch of Hunter’s house, looking at each other before we open the door and walk in.

“Who are we?” Casey asks me in a quiet voice.

“We’re the two baddest chicks in the Outer Banks,” I tell her.

“And where are we?” she asks, her voice getting a little louder.

“We’re on the cusp… on the threshold… on the brink of going in,” I quickly respond.

“And what are we getting ready to do?” she asks with extreme urgency.

“We’re getting ready to show her the way it is.”

“And why are we doing it?” she asks with an evil grin.

“Because if I catch Sasha ever trying to kiss Hunter again, I’m going to knock her teeth out… so consider this a public service of sorts for the woman.”

“Damn skippy,” Casey exclaims. We give each other a high-five, then we take it down low, tickling our fingertips against one another, and then bump our hips together.

Yes, this is our preparation routine we always do any time one of us has a problem and the other one is riding wingman to help solve said problem.

The problem is, of course, Sasha. Hunter insisted on doing this get-together so I could get to know John, but that unfortunately meant I needed to get to know Sasha.

Before I left work for the day, Hunter pulled me aside and assured me that he talked with Sasha, that she was remorseful for what happened, and that it was water under the bridge. He told me everything would be fine, and then he reminded me that he wanted me to stay the night with him. Before I could even decline that invitation again, he made sure to remind me of the one-hour test he wanted to try out on me, which made my blood race hot and my resolve to sleep in my own bed weaken.