The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(8)

“Maybe that’s a good idea.”

She strolled his way, going all out with the sway of her hips to the point he worried she’d take herself off balance.

“Good luck finding your fantasy girl,” she bid acidly.

“Thanks,” he muttered, getting out of her way.

He let her pass him but followed her out.

He didn’t lock his front door when she slammed it behind her.

But he did look out his window to watch her dig her phone out of her bag and bend her head to it.

And he kept watching as she stood out there until a taxi pulled up.

He didn’t go for the door to walk out with her and pay for the damn taxi when she turned to him and flipped him off through the window, mouthing, Fuck you, dick.

Toby sighed again.

Yeah, he could pick them.

He still continued to watch until she folded into the taxi and it took off.

She’d get safe home.

So Toby stopped watching and went to lock the door.

He went back to his bedroom thinking that it was going to be just him and his fist for a good long while after that.

After he got undressed and stretched out under the covers, Kristy was already barely a memory.

All the ones who came before, who acted like bitches or nagged incessantly, or decided he was going to marry them before he even knew their middle names or how they took their coffee, were memories.

Tobias Gamble was not going to be his father.

He was not going to pick the wrong one and end up broken in a way no woman—or no child, not even his own blood—could fix.

She was going to be just right.

She was going to love the children they made more than anything in the world.

She was going to worship the ground he walked on.

And she was going to be so spectacular, he’d be willing to die for her without even a blink of an eye to think.

So yeah, Kristy was a memory.

And therefore, Toby had no problem getting back to sleep.



Four Years Later . . .

Toby pulled up to the house in his old red Chevy truck with the silver panels.

The house was cute-as-fuck, totally the place where whoever the new woman his brother was seeing, after Shandra got done grinding him to ash, would live.

But Toby didn’t have a mind to the house.

Toby didn’t even have a mind to the fact this was the first time he’d seen his brother in months, since he hadn’t been back to Matlock in months.

He didn’t have a mind to any of this seeing as there was clearly a drama playing out beside that cute-as-fuck house.

A drama Johnny was involved in.

Johnny and some strung-out-looking dude, some huge black dude, and two of the prettiest women Toby had ever seen in his life.

Yeah, one of those women was Johnny’s new girl.

And that figured.

House cute as fuck.

Women pretty as hell.

Toby got out of his truck and saw Johnny give him a short shake of his head before Tobe began to make a slow approach.

The strung-out dude was speaking.

“You know I’ve been lookin’ for gigs,” the dude announced.

“I’m not sure how you’ll find gigs camped out on the couch with a six pack or humping some chick in my bed,” the blonde woman (or one of the two) with all the hair, fantastic ass, long legs and clear attitude replied.

Right.

That probably wasn’t Johnny’s girl.

Though she was the prettier one.

Christ.

Coming closer, Tobe saw she was gorgeous.

“Addie, don’t lay this shit on me,” the dude returned. “You haven’t been giving it up for months.”

“That’s because I’m tired, Perry,” she shot back. “I’m exhausted. I’m a single mother of a baby boy with a deadbeat dad who lives with me.”

Great.

Just fucking fabulous.

This strung-out dude was her dude.

“I love my kid,” the Perry guy hurled back.

“He’s a toy, like I was a toy before I wasn’t shiny and new anymore and life became a drag. But you didn’t give me away, you tossed me aside and looked for a new toy just like I know you’ll do with Brooklyn when he’s not fun anymore,” the gorgeous chick called Addie replied.

Toby saw Johnny turn his head and watch his approach.

Toby lifted his eyebrows toward his brother.

Johnny gave him another short jerk of his head and again looked at Addie.

“That’s not true, baby.” Perry was now trying to wheedle. “I love you. I love Brooklyn. You know that. It’s just been tough since the band broke up and—”

“God, spare me,” Addie drawled bitingly. “You’re such a cliché and I’m such a moron for falling for it.”

“We got it good, we just gotta get that back,” Perry said.

“You had it good, because you had someone paying your bills and doing all the grunt work taking care of your son so he’s nice and clean and fed when you feel like playing with him. I didn’t have it good. And even after sharing this about seven million times, it didn’t sink in that you might wanna give your wife and son better. I know this because nothing changed. I also know this because I walked in on you fucking another woman.”

What was happening sunk in.