Maybe Swearing Will Help

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  She smiled at him, but then went back to her conversation with Saylor.

  I rubbed my arm and surreptitiously glanced down at it to see if it was red.

  And it was, of course.

  Goddammit.

  I shifted in my seat, trying to hide it as best as I could, then decided that I would need to cover it up completely.

  Reaching for the simple shawl that was draped over the chair, I picked it up and draped it over my shoulders, arranging it perfectly so that it covered my arm.

  When I looked up from doing that, it was to see Hayes’ eyes on me. Or, more specifically, the red mark on my arm that his brother had caused.

  His eyes flicked to mine, and I all but pleaded with him not to say anything.

  He gritted his teeth, the muscles of his jaw flexing in annoyance, then went back to staring at the table as he took a drink.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief and reached for the whiskey that’d been placed onto the table in my spot.

  Taking a short swig, I nearly cried as fire licked down my throat following the liquid.

  When I looked back up, it was to see amusement in Hayes’ eyes.

  I looked away and contemplated pulling out my phone to pass the time, but quickly dismissed that idea.

  The fastest way to get my brother to pay attention to me was pull out my phone.

  So instead, I sat there like a good little girl, laughed at the appropriate times, and finished off my whiskey before the meal started.

  When the meal was finished, I’d only eaten a quarter of what they’d served. The rest had gone to my brother or father.

  I was a very picky eater.

  I didn’t eat fish—because gross.

  I didn’t eat green stuff—because double gross.

  And I didn’t eat anything that resembled snot—triple gross.

  Sadly, the main course was fish. There was a salad. And then the followup was a yellow custard concoction that really did resemble phlegm.

  I’d passed the majority of the meal off to my brother and dad, who happily took the food because the portion sizes were too small.

  I really couldn’t see how they got off charging two hundred bucks for this.

  Five courses was nice and all, but the portion sizes were jokes.

  I could eat a Whataburger meal with a large fry and still be hungry. And they thought a piece of meat the size of four Double A batteries was going to cut it? Yeah, no.

  I made a mental note to stop by Whataburger on the way home from my parents’ and returned to the meal.

  Luckily, the night went off rather smoothly after that.

  The auction was a success, and Ryan upped the winning bid to almost a quarter of a million dollars before a football player ended up winning the painting done by a local artist for this event specifically.

  In the end, I wasn’t the least bit sad that the night was coming to a close.

  “Well,” Ryan said as he stood. “It’s been fun. But I have a game tomorrow in Atlanta. Hope y’all have a great rest of your evening.”

  Saylor was the only one to say goodbye to Ryan.

  The rest of us said goodbye to Brooke.

  Well, all of us but Hayes, who leaned back in his chair and watched them go without a word.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my shawl dip, exposing my likely-bruised arm.

  When I yanked it back up and glanced around to see if anybody had seen, the only person I saw staring was Hayes.

  And he looked pissed.

  Even more pissed than before.

  “I gotta go, too,” Hayes mumbled. “Have a good one.”

  Ryan hadn’t even made it all the way across the floor yet, having been caught by another baseball player.

  Hayes slipped past him easily and kept walking, disappearing into the darkened corridor that led to the parking lot.

  I yawned. “I really should be going, too.”

  Dad reached into his pocket and stood.

  Lock did as well, my mother having taught them manners that when a lady stands, boys did, too.

  “Go. I’ll catch a ride home with Lock and Saylor,” Dad said, handing me his keys.

  I blew out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Dad. Tomorrow is a testing day, and you know how those days are.”

  Dad nodded and gestured for me to go. “If you hurry, you can catch up to the group already walking out. Then I won’t worry about you.”

  The ‘group’ was a few members of his old SWAT team and their wives.

  I smiled and waved, punched my brother in the butt as hard as I could, and hauled ass to catch up to the group.

  Only, when I got to them, they were caught at the door and had to talk to the coordinator of the ball.

  I grimaced and slipped around them, avoiding eye contact so they wouldn’t be tempted to pull me into the conversation.

  Luckily, I got out of the room without a word.

  I even slipped out into the chilly night air without notice as well.

  When I got outside, I decided that my heels had to go because there was no way I would be making it across the cracked parking lot in one piece if I didn’t.

  Slipping them off one by one, I started around the building toward my dad’s truck, taking the long way which enabled me to stay on the concrete for as long as possible.

  It was that act right there that enabled me to sneak up on Hayes and Ryan as I turned the corner.

  “…put your hands on her and left a mark,” Hayes growled, getting up into Ryan’s face.

  Brooke, who was staring stunned beside them, took a step back.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hayes.” Ryan jerked himself away from Hayes. “Get off me.”

  “You left a mark on her arm. You followed her to the bathroom,” Hayes said. “She has a mark on her arm from you grabbing her that’s likely gonna bruise.”

  Speaking of bruise, I could feel the mark throbbing right then.

  “I did not,” Ryan growled, pushing Hayes.

  Hayes let himself be pushed. “Don’t ever touch her again, Ryan.”

  Hayes’ lethal voice had me shivering as a jolt of something not altogether unpleasant powered through my veins.

  Turning on my heel, I hurried in the direction of my dad’s truck, cutting through the flower bed to do so.

  By the time I arrived at his truck and had it unlocked, I chanced a look at the corner of the building.

  The only ones I saw there were Brooke and Ryan.

  No Hayes at all.

  If I’d only looked behind me, not two car lengths away, he sat on his bike in the shadows, watching me look for him.

  Disappointed not to catch a last glance of the man, I got into my dad’s truck and started it up, chancing one more glance around the parking lot for the man who made my heart skip beats.

  Sadly, I didn’t see him.

  He saw me, though.