I lower my hand and meet his gaze. “I didn’t say shit about answering questions. I’ll say my piece and walk.”
Frisco’s face says what his mouth doesn’t.God help you, I hope you’re right.
I pat the pockets of my jeans and come up empty in the search for my keys.
“Please tell me my 442 is somewhere safe.”
As soon as the demand is out, I remember a bright neon sign and that damned parrot.
Where was that?I try to picture the sign in my head.
The Fishbowl.
Zane moves toward the kitchen space in his loft. “Let’s eat some greasy bacon and eggs, and then we’ll go get your car from Ripley.”
My stomach twists at the suggestion, but I know it’s the right one. I need to kick this hangover now so I can kick some ass later.
Ripley.
The gorgeous brunette.
Who threatened to bash my head in with a baseball bat.
Great. This is going to be just fucking great.
9
Boone
Frisco pullsup between the Javelin and my 442 behind a run-down brick building. In the daylight, this place looks like it’s only a few years from being condemned, but all I care about right now is the fact that my car looks like it’s perfectly untouched.
If I hadn’t been so wasted and pissed last night, there’s no way in hell I would have left her in this neighborhood. Not a frigging chance.
I don’t care that she’s insured, because this isn’t the kind of car you can replace. She’s been specially restored by Logan Brantley of Gold Haven, Kentucky, to fit my vision of what badass American muscle looks like.
The peeling paint of the Javelin beside us reminds me of how the Olds looked when I dropped her off myself at his shop.
Before we climb out, Frisco’s phone starts ringing for the sixth time since we left his loft.
“I swear, if it’s another call for you, I’m going to break this thing like you did yours.”
“I’ll get a new phone this afternoon, and you can kick them all to me if they keep bothering you. Sorry about that, man. And thanks for everything this morning. I’ve toured with some assholes who wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire, so it’s a nice change.”
Frisco gives me a chin lift. “You changed my life when you asked me to be on that tour, but that’s not all. You didn’t treat me like shit. You treated me like a friend. So that’s what I’m giving back to you, brother.”
I extend a hand. “Much appreciated. It won’t be our last tour either. Stop out at my place anytime. Tonight you’ll find me burning one by the fire, wondering how all this shit happened.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I reach for the handle and pause, my mind on the woman I’m hoping is inside with my keys. “What’s the deal with this chick? She gonna be a problem?”
Frisco looks toward the weathered building ahead of us. “Ripley?”
“Yeah. The dark-haired one from last night.”
“She’s good people. Won’t let me take her out on a date to save my life, all because of her rule.”
He throws up air quotes around the wordrule, and I vaguely recall a mention of something like that from last night.