It doesn’t. But as I try to move away, he tightens his hold.
“Landlord you’ve been going on dates with,” he corrects, voice firm enough that the whole group hears it.
I look up at him, and I swear my jaw almost hits the tray. I’m ready to crack him over the skull with it. What the hell is he doing?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HUNTER
Song— Twisting The Knife, Ice Nine Kills ft Mckenna Grace
I’m frozen. Rooted to the dirt like the soles of my boots have fused with the earth. Watching my best friend’s arm wrap around Lola’s waist like he has any goddamn right to touch her.
Reese is notoriously single. He’s fucked his way through most of the town. Wined them, dined them, dangled the lavish life in front of them like a carrot on a string. The apartments and the suits and the promises he never intends to keep.
They never stick around long. Never long enough for him to introduce them to me. But this has me fucked up. Because Lola isn’t his. She has this fire behind her eyes, this razor-sharp edge that tells me she’d see through a man like Reese in a heartbeat.
Mine. She feels like she’s mine.
Anger surges through me, dragging old ghosts out of the dark. Feelings I’ve buried so deep I thought they’d rotted bynow. That I’m not enough. That I’ll never be enough for a woman to stay.
Ashley couldn’t even stick by my side.
But if Reese wants to stake his claim—if he already has—then fine. I’ll walk away. Let them have whatever this is. She can come crying to me later when she realizes he can’t deliver on a single thing he’s promised.
I could, though. I’d want to give her everything.
My feet are moving before my brain can catch up. And then I’m there, standing in front of them, clearing my throat like it isn’t full of broken glass.
Reese looks at me with that shit-eating grin. Fuck, he’s such a lawyer.
I shake his hand tight enough to mean something and don’t look at Lola. Can’t. Because if I do, she’ll see everything, the hurt and the rage and the way something inside my chest is cracking down the middle.
My momma raised me better than to be rude to a woman. Even one who’s gutted me without knowing it.
It was a fuck. That’s all. Nothing else was real. I was merely an experiment to her. Reese is more her type. The kind of man who would fit right in in New York. I keep telling myself that.
“Where is the birthday boy?” Reese asks with easy charm.
I clear my throat and lock my jaw. “With Ace.”
He nods, then looks down at Lola. My eyes follow his. And my heart slams. She looks like she wants the earth to crack open and drag her under. Her face is pale. Her fingers are white-knuckling the edge of that silver tray.
I keep my expression carefully empty.
“Have you had the pleasure of meeting my girl, Lola?” Reese asks.
My girl.
Two words. That’s all it takes. Two words, and they slice through me like a blade through a dark, already-bleeding heart.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Briefly.”
Lola tries to push herself out of his hold, and I pause and watch. Because something isn’t right.
They have absolutely zero chemistry. Not even a spark.
And then Reese does the one thing that makes my blood run cold. He takes off his play pretend cowboy hat and places it on her head. His friends erupt—whooping, clapping, cheering him on like he’s just lassoed himself a prize mare at auction. He might as well have cocked his leg and pissed on her.