by D. K. Combs
Well, she could. He had gone home after catching her at the parking lot just to get head from another woman? It was all kinds of wrong, but then, he’d also apparently been thinking about Bristol the whole time an unwanted woman was in his bed, and now he had to deal with said woman…
This was punishment enough.
And it wasn’t like he’d been thinking of Alex when it had happened.
He’d been thinking of Bristol.
It was a screwed up consolation but it would have to do. It was the only thing that kept her cool when all she wanted to do was laugh at how pathetic this whole ordeal was.
It wasn’t until she saw Alex’s fist raise that she took a step forward, instinctively reaching for the nearest wrench.
Alex’s eyes flickered to her, and so did Noah’s.
He cursed, and a shadow came over his features. The hard set of his jaw, the stance of took, the way his thick arms crossed over his barrel chest… There was no room for arguing, and Alex took the hint.
“This is over, Alex. You and I... We are over. We will stay over. This needs to stop.”
“Fuck you,” she hissed, taking a threatening step forward. “We spent a year together, and—”
“Leave.”
That one word. That one, lone word rang through the shop with a finality that made even Bristol’s stomach drop. This was a side to Noah she wasn’t prepared to see—and hoped to never see again. His
“I don’t care!” she cried out, slashing her hand in the air. “You were the hottest guy I’d ever been with, and now… You can’t move on. Not from me. Not from us. Not onto some skank.”
That’s all she cared about? How hot Noah was? Nevermind the fact that she’d just been called a skank.
Bristol looked between the two of them, hand still holding the wrench. She would be damned if she watched some trash monger come at Noah. How could she not see that he was more than just his body?
Bristol had barely spent any time with the guy and knew how caring he was, how loving he could be. How helpful and selfless he was. He was so much more than all of that—and all Alex saw was a hot body?
Granted, that had been Bristol’s first attraction to him, but now that Alex was trying to fight for them, her only arguing point was that “she couldn’t lose the hottest guy she’d ever been with?”
Going by the way Noah tensed, he must have noticed that too.
“Get out,” he said quietly. That didn’t sound good.
“Noah, I lo—”
“Get out,” he snarled, taking a step toward her. She flinched, some of the fight leaving her. “Get the fuck out of my shop, Alex. Get out.”
“I… I just…” She gave one last look at Bristol, then turned on her heel and stormed to her car.
Noah stared after her until she was gone, and then slowly turned to Bristol, his face guarded, emotionless.
“Bri, I just want you to know I really did try to get her out of my house. I don’t have a good excuse, but I just—”
She held up a hand, and his jaw clenched.
“I don’t want to hear it. I get it. Shit happens. At least you were thinking of me,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.
“Ah, I did more than that. I said your name,” he admitted, some of the man she had grown to like coming through the barriers again. He had been worried she would turn into Alex, she realized. He’d been waiting for a jealous explosion.
Bristol wasn’t one for jealousy. Very rarely did something actually bring out the green monster, because very rarely did she bond with someone enough to covet their attention that bad, which is one of the only reasons she felt a laugh bubble up.
“No,” she said, covering her mouth. “You didn’t.”
He grimaced. “I did. I couldn’t help it, I just… Couldn’t get you out of my head, Bri. And when she wouldn’t leave, she just kind of did it, and I imagined us together. I should have told you about it before this, but—”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she said, shaking her head. “You aren’t obligated to tell me anything that you don’t want to. We aren’t together, Noah. We’re just... friends.” The words shouldn’t have left a sour taste in her mouth, but they did. Besides a few steamy moments, nothing they’ve done together would make them lovers, or a couple, or anything else. The words could hurt all they wanted, but they were true.
“Friends,” he repeated, his eyes bearing into hers as she awkwardly kicked at the ground.
For some reason, the way he said that had her own heart thumping in her chest. He knew it sounded like BS as much as she did, but then, their boundaries weren’t defined. Nothing was certain between the two of them. They were just two people thrown together because of a mutual desire for each other.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
...Right?
Chapter Twenty-One
Seeing the Chevy truck in the driveway was not a good way to end a bad day.
Noah climbed out of the parked car and walked up to the back door. It was unlocked, but he wasn’t surprised. Chase had been his friend since they were kids, and he knew where every spare key was. The fact that he hadn’t given Noah a call, or even a text, said something was up.
He’d just gotten back from dropping Bristol back at her place. She’d mentioned running to the store before she went to bed, and he’d offered to take her, but she’d gently turned him down.
He understood. Today had been a lot for the both of them—especially her. Despite the fact she appeared to be okay after the confrontation with Alex, he couldn’t help but think it was an act. It had to be. Any normal woman would have been upset over learning what she had, but she’d just brushed it off.
And that “friends” comment...seriously? They were just friends? Bullshit. Not after last night. They had to be something more than friends, even if they weren’t exactly a “couple”.
He hadn’t realized how much that bothered him until she’d said it. Yeah, the bet was going to screw everything up, but...but how could she think they were just friends? Didn’t she see what was happening?
It was probably a good thing she hadn’t, he thought. The more he spent time with her, the more attached she could become, and the more devastated she would be once he finished the bet. He was committed now—there was no going back. And he didn’t want to know what Chase had in store for him if he lost.
He flicked on the lights to the mud room.
“Chase? You in here?”
“Yeah, living room,” his friend called out.
He toed off his shoes and then met him there, flopping down on the couch. Just by the dim light in the room, and the fact that his fried was holding a beer in sullen silence, his earlier suspicions were confirmed.
“What’s up? I didn’t get a text saying you were coming over.”
“Eh,” Chase shrugged, sliding his phone into his pocket. The TV was on the sports channel, the low drone of the announcer the only sound in the room for a while. Noah waited for Chase to say something, but the guy just sat and stared at the TV, thumb tapping against the beer bottle anxiously, face void of emotion.
Nice.
“So… What’s going on?”
Chase glanced at him, then back at the TV, shrugging. Nothing.
Noah sighed and leaned back into the couch, digging for his phone. If Chase had an issue, then he could bring it up. Until then, and he knew it was going to happen soon, he was going to just play it out and wait for the explosion.
“There’s a lot of dishes in your kitchen,” Chase commented, taking a quick swig of the beer.
“Okay, and?” There shouldn’t be a problem with that. Chase had never cared about a mess before.
“You never leave dishes out. You’re a psycho neat-freak,” his friend said coldly.
“Bristol had me leaving the house earlier—” He stopped mid-eye roll, realizing what Chase was getting—and that he’d just said completely the wrong thing.
His friend looked at him slowly, brow
s drawing together.
“Bristol? She was here last night?”
“Shit.” Noah scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, she was here last night. But we didn’t have sex—”
“How am I supposed to believe that? You lied to me. Said it was a goddamn business partner or some bullshit. Noah, you lied right to my face.”
Yeah, he was doing a lot of that lately, wasn’t he?
“Chase—”
“No, fuck that, man. We’ve never lied to each other before. Why now? Why is this chick so special that you’re lying about being with her?” He took a swig of his drink, then set it down, shaking his head. “You were with her yesterday, too. Before I came over. Weren’t you? Don’t fucking lie to me, man. Were you with her or not?”
“Shit, yes, wow,” Noah said, glaring at him. “I shouldn’t have to report everything I’m doing.”
“When it involves her, then yeah, you should.”
“No, not really. You aren’t my fucking mother, Chase. As long as I don’t sleep with her—”
“How can I trust that you haven't? You lied to me twice about her. Twice.”
“Would you really have let me go on the date with her last night if you’d known it was her?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Would you have? Because I know you, and for whatever reason, whenever it comes to Bristol and I hanging around each other, you get real bothered, man. Are you jealous or something?”
“No,” Chase said angrily, neck flushing to a furious red. “What the hell is there to be jealous over? I’m pissed because we made plans for the game. And after this, how can I seriously believe you didn’t break the rules?”
“The plans changed,” Noah said, sighing. “Look, I’m sorry you’re pissed—but I haven’t lied about the bet. She slept in the bed, I slept on the couch. My pants didn’t even come off last night, Chase.”
“You cooked breakfast for her,” Chase snapped. “You don’t cook shit for anyone. How can I believe that you didn’t sleep with her? Because if you did, the bet is off. It’s over.”
The one thing that was important about their bets—honesty. If there wasn’t honesty, they couldn’t trust each other to come clean when one lost or won a bet if they weren’t there to prove it themselves. And as much as he hated himself for letting it come to this, Chase’s distrust was warranted.
“Chase—no. No, I didn’t sleep with her.” Yeah, but you ate her out, a voice whispered. Chase had said specifically that he couldn’t sleep with her, and he hadn’t—heck, he hadn’t even shared the same bed as her last night.
“Did you do other shit with her?”
Noah gave him a look. He’d asked the question with a type of gravity that said he would know if Noah were lying or not. He asked it with a finality that depended on the bet. Why Chase was getting so bent out of shape about this, he had no clue.
Lately, even on his last trip here, something had been off. He knew this time of the year was hard for Chase, but he’d never taken it out on Noah before. He couldn’t remember his friend ever being so...serious about a bet. Yeah, with the money that was at stake here, it made sense, but to actually bet him against Bristol after he had noticed the way the two of them reacted to each other?
It was a dick move, and his friend normally wasn’t like that.
There was a chance in Chase that Noah had failed to recognize, and now it was like a pink elephant in the room.
Chase came from a broken home, just like Noah had. Except, with Chase, his parents hadn’t looked out for his best interest. No, they’d ended up sending him off to boarding school in middle school for a few years while they worked out the divorce. By the end of it, his father had wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d been left with his mother—who had been almost insanely anal about his education and success. When he’d come back from boarding school, he had gone to private school. The only time Chase and Noah got to hang out was when his mom went on business trips and left him with a babysitter.
Their childhoods had been different in a lot of ways—Noah’s family had been struggling middle class, while Chase’s family had bordered on gaudily rich. It hadn’t been anything he’d ever thrown in Noah’s face, but sometimes, he did see the bitterness at what Noah had—a close bond with his father, being able to play sports instead of learning another language, running his own business.
For reasons he didn’t understand, Chase had always been a little envious of him, but he’d never let it show as badly as it had recently. It was an issue that had always gone undiscussed, and he had never wanted to address it in the first place.
“Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I did. But my pants didn’t come off. What, are you calling off the bet?”
It had never happened before, and for Chase to do it now…
His friend looked away, then heaved a grunt.
“No. The bet is still on. But you should stop seeing her.”
“Why?” He agreed with him, but going by the tone of his voice, his friend thought so because of something else. Noah needed to stop seeing her because he was on the path to hurting her. Chase didn’t care about feelings—he hadn’t been raised that way. He’d been raised by a cold, cunning family who valued financial reward more than emotional and mental reward.
“Because—you’re getting too serious. You lied—and you never make a woman breakfast—”
“That doesn’t have jack shit to do with anything, and you know it. Why do you think I should stop seeing her? If anything, you should be pushing me to see her more, so that I lose the bet. If I lose the bet, you keep your money. What’s your problem, man?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he snapped. The look in his eyes said the complete opposite, though.
“Sure doesn’t seem like it.” Noah leaned back into the couch, folding his arms over his chest.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” Chase stood up, hands turning into balls at his side. Oh, he just fucking dared him to take a swing. Women might think Chase was a pretty guy, but when it came to strength, to being able to fight? Noah had that in the bag.
He stayed right where he was, only going so far as to raise a brow at him. An angry flush crept up Chase’s neck, and it wasn’t until the redness reached his jaw that Noah saw how puffy his face was, how pale the skin around his cheeks was.
Noah’s jaw clenched as bloodshot eyes stared into his.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re so much better than me.”
“I never said I was,” he said smoothly, while his mind reeled. Where was all of this coming from?
“You’re looking at me like you are. Always so cocky, so arrogant. You get everything you want in the end, every single time.” Chase turned away from him, talking more to himself than Noah at this point.
“This shit started a while ago. You…you always get what you want, Noah. The bets—”
“I’ve lost my fair share of bets, Chase—”
“Your dad—”
“What about my dad?”
“And now this fucking chick? I wanted to fuck with you, and now…now you’re getting everything. Again. Like always. Since when the fuck is this fair?” he grated. The torment in his voice almost stemmed the anger taking over Noah.
Almost.
“You need to chill for a second, man,” he said, standing and holding his hands out. The last thing he wanted to do was fight Chase here. They had spent too much time over beers and sports in this room to deck it out in here, but Noah wasn’t going to take that shit—especially if he didn’t know where this was coming from.
Was it a full moon? Were people just waking up today and thinking, “Hey! Let’s go yell at Noah for shit he can’t control and see how far we get before he blows a fuse”? Seriously, this was getting ridiculous. First Alex, and now Chase?
“No, I’m done chilling out. My childhood was shit, my mom is all sorts of fucked up on drugs right now and coming after me for money, and you—you’re just living the life. You own your own sho
p, you’re about to get this chick, you’re about to get it all.”
“Chase,” he said slowly, cautiously. “I didn’t know about your mom. Why did you come out here if something was wrong? You could have gone to her.”
His hand shoved an angry hand through his hair.
“I didn’t want to. She makes me miserable, man.” He was starting to calm down. Good. Things were starting to make sense now, a lot more than before. Chase was going off his rocker because of his mom—not anything Noah had actually done.
Then he scowled, something Chase had said coming back to him.
“You came out here just to fuck with me? Because you were pissed at your mom?”
Chase gave him a side-glance, suddenly going quiet. He wavered on his feet, and that’s when Noah noticed the three other bottles on the coffee table. Two were beer, and then the third was a vodka bottle that had been full. Now? It was half empty. He slowly looked back at Chase, pressing his lips.
“It was better than staying in the city and dealing with her.”
He laughed harshly.
“No, seriously. You saw what was going on between Bristol and me at the bar. You wanted to ‘fuck with me’. Why the hell would you bet me against her on purpose—” Chase took one last drink of the bottle and then set it down, barely catching himself on the coffee table before toppling over. “Are you drunk right now?”
“Man, whatever. This is shit. I’m going back to the hotel.” He started to walk away from Noah, but he didn’t let him. He reached out, grabbing Chase’s arm.
“What the hell is your deal with me lately? What does Bristol or my dad have to do with anything?”
Chase jerked his arm out of Noah’s grasp. The look on his face almost had Noah taking a step back, but he didn’t. At this point, he was ready to throw the first punch. He had done nothing but open his home to Chase his whole life—and he was out to make Noah miserable?
“You know, I hope the two of you have a great time together,” Chase said, bitterness dripping from every word. Noah was amazed he could speak so clearly when he couldn’t even stand on his feet properly, but then, he had known about Chase’s alcoholism for a few years now. The man was a master at hiding it—for the most part.