Going Under (The Blackhawk Boys Book 3)

by Lexi Ryan

  “Right.” He smirks at Sebastian and speaks low. “Of course you’d want to sit by your friend.”

  The implication in his voice embarrasses me so much that I pretend to study my notebook while Sebastian slides his backpack off and takes his seat.

  I try to keep my focus on the professor, but Sebastian must have just showered, because his hair’s a little wet at the base of his neck and he smells so damn good I want to lean closer. Dr. Scheck goes over the course syllabus, her policies, and the major tests and projects for the semester. Next to me, Sebastian leans back in his chair, his legs spread so wide his knee brushes mine when I shift.

  Seriously, is he planning to sit next to me every day? How am I going to make it through an entire semester with him so close?

  I curl my fingers around the top of my notebook, and when I sneak a glance at him, he catches me and winks.

  Holy hell. I’m done for. Doesn’t he know I’m trying to move on? To get over him?

  No. Of course he doesn’t, because that would involve him knowing how I feel about him to begin with.

  Chapter Nine

  Sebastian

  Alex smiles up at me after Dr. Scheck dismisses the class. “Women’s studies, huh?”

  “Don’t start. It’s one of those semesters where I just have to knock out my liberal arts requirements.”

  She hums and bites back a smile. “You’re sure you’re not doing it to pick up chicks?”

  Fuck Keegan and every immature little boy like him. “I swear to you, I’m not taking women’s studies to pick up chicks.”

  I could beat myself up for sitting next to Alex when I need to keep my distance, but what was I supposed to do? Let Keegan sit next to her and flash her that “I’m a charming doofus” smile the girls seem to go mad for? Hell no.

  I can sit by her without crossing any lines. I’m just being a good friend—to Dante, who’s worried about his little sister fitting in at BHU, and to Alex, who’s always a little nervous in social situations. I can be her friend without hurting her, and I will be for as long as she needs me. I owe her so much more than that.

  We file out of the lecture hall and into the bright, sunny day, where humidity smacks me in the face. I can’t wait for the cooler temps of autumn to come around.

  “Where are you headed after this?” I ask Alex.

  “I have a short break, actually. What about you?”

  “Same. Want to grab a drink?” I mentally kick myself as soon as I ask, because grabbing coffee with Alex is not in the plans.

  “Did someone just suggest alcohol?” someone says. I turn my head to see Bailey sidestepping her way through the throng of students to get closer to us. “The bar around the corner from the College of Business opens in fifteen.”

  I grunt. “I was thinking coffee or a bottle of water.”

  Bailey throws her arm around Alex’s shoulders, and Alex grins. It’s good to see her so comfortable with my friends. And maybe a little dangerous, too.

  “My breakfast hasn’t fully digested yet and I have class in an hour,” Alex says. “So maybe I’ll stick with Sebastian’s suggestion.”

  “Pfft.” Bailey waves a hand. “First rule of college: It’s never too early for alcohol.”

  “That bad already?” I ask her.

  Bailey nods. “Fucking terrible. The idiot adjunct teaching my chem lab used to frequent the Pretty Kitty, so of course he’s already formed an opinion of my abilities.” She turns to Alex. “You know those chauvinist men who assume your intelligence is conversely related to your hotness, and so they discount everything that comes out of your brain just because you’re a babe?”

  Alex clears her throat. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that problem.”

  Bailey looks to me and arches a brow. “She doesn’t have a clue that she’s smoking hot, does she?”

  “Not the slightest,” I agree, enjoying the way Alex’s cheeks turn pink and her lips curl into a delicate smile. Fuck all the complications of her being back in my life—seeing that smile on a daily basis isn’t gonna suck.

  Alex tugs on her scarf, and Bailey sighs. “Just take it off, girl.”

  It’s hot as fuck out here. Summer seems determined to hang on for dear life and blast us with everything it’s got. Alex is wearing short sleeves, but she has to be hot with that cloth wrapped around her neck.

  I nod. “You should.”

  “It’s not just the way people look at me.” She fans herself with the sheer material. “It’s the questions.”

  “You don’t owe anyone explanations.”

  She meets my eyes and pauses for a beat before unlooping it from her neck and pulling it off.

  Bailey hoots and holds up her fist for me to bump in victory.

  Alex lifts her hand to her neck then drops it.

  “You look beautiful,” I say.

  Alex keeps her eyes averted and murmurs a soft “thanks,” but Bailey looks right at me, and her smirk tells me she sees far more than I want her to.

  But then her smirk falls away and she whispers, “Incoming!”

  I turn just in time to see the redhead from Friday night rushing toward me before she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the mouth.

  * * *

  Alexandra

  I hold up the black dress Bailey brought me and look at her skeptically. “This?”

  Bailey climbs onto a stool by the service counter and nods. “Oh, yeah.”

  The dress is simple, a stretchy black cotton number without embellishment. That part is great. Totally my style. The only problem is, there’s not much to it. Bailey’s shorter than me, and I can’t imagine the skirt even hits her mid-thigh, and let’s just say the cut of the top means a full-coverage bra is out of the question.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  She looks offended. “I never joke about fashion.”

  “It’s going to show…everything.”

  She smirks. “Not everything. Just enough.” Her gaze narrows in on my neck, and I realize I’m holding my hand over my scar. Well, part of it. “Stop worrying about that. You’re hot. You have scars, but they do nothing to take away from your foxiness. In fact, they might just add to it.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Trust. Me. You’re hot. Quit hiding. You wear this dress to the Cavern and there will be male eyes on you for all the right reasons.”

  “Can’t we take baby steps?”

  “I’m a believer in full immersion.” She puts a pair of high-heeled red Mary Janes on the counter next to a pair of black, strappy wedge sandals. “As for shoes, the choice is yours.”

  I groan, but her attention has left me and settled on the glass doors at the front of the shop. I follow her gaze to the guy pushing into the waiting room. Tall and lean, with dark hair and a thick shadow of stubble across his strong jaw, he has a young Hugh Jackman vibe going on. He’s wearing crisp black slacks, a button-up shirt and tie, and a pair of dark sunglasses that he slides off as he approaches the counter.

  He smiles at Bailey. “Hey, girl.”

  A hot guy walks into the shop, and Bailey knows him. Why am I not surprised?

  She returns his smile, but it’s not the usual happy-go-lucky Bailey smile. “Hi, Logan. Long time no see.” She points to me. “This is my friend, Alexandra. This is Logan Lucas, an old friend. What are you doing in town, Logan?”

  “I moved back,” he says. “My brother and I are opening a new bar.”

  “Seriously? Where?”

  “We bought the building by the Cavern.”

  “You’re the one opening The Lemon Rind? That’s awesome. I’m excited about that place.” She skims her eyes over him, but the gesture is more assessing than sexual. “It’s really good to know you’re doing so well.”

  He nods, and I wonder what it is they’re not saying, what shared history they have that’s made the mood in the room go from fun and easy, when we were talking about the dress, to somber, when Logan walked in the door.

  They don’
t say anything else to give me any hints, but the moment ends when Logan turns his smile to me. “I got a call that my car was ready. Logan Lucas, the white Shelby.”

  I gape at him. Hot guy drives an even hotter car. “She’s yours? Crazy sweet ride.”

  “The sweetest.” He grins. “I don’t typically have a temper, but you should have seen me when that asshole hit it. How hard is it to back out of a parking space? He rammed right into it with me standing there. Not one of my finer moments.” He shakes his head and looks out the window to where the car is parked. “Anyway, it’s good to see her back to her old self.”

  “She’s good as new. I hope you don’t mind I checked out her engine. She must be one hell of a ride.”

  His grin grows wide. “You like cars?”

  “I like cars like yours.” I turn to grab his keys off the wall, and when I turn back to him, I catch him staring at me. At my ass, actually. Which is…unexpected.

  He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You should take her for a drive sometime.”

  As much as I love the idea of getting behind the wheel of a ’65 Shelby, I’m pretty sure he’s only saying that to be nice. I mean, like ninety-percent sure, but his eyes definitely make me wonder. My cheeks warm as I hand over the keys. “Mr. Crowe said there was no charge.”

  “No, let me pay. I want to.”

  I turn my palms up. “I couldn’t charge you if I wanted to. I don’t have an invoice.”

  He shakes his head. “I should have known he’d pull something like this. I’ll make it up to him somehow.” Pocketing his keys, he studies me for another beat before pulling a business card from his pocket and placing it on the counter. “So you know where to find me in case you want to take me up on my offer.” He waves goodbye to Bailey and backs toward the front door with his eyes on me. He stops before pushing outside and points to the shoes still resting on the counter. “I’d go with the red ones.”

  Then he pushes outside, leaving me with hot cheeks and that nervous, fidgety feeling in my stomach.

  “Tell me you’re going to tap that.”

  I swing around to Bailey, who innocently twirls a lock of blond hair around her finger. “You didn’t just say that.”

  “It’s adorable that you think I need to give you a makeover so guys notice you. Logan noticed you the second he set eyes on you, and let’s not even start with the way Sebastian looks at you.”

  My warm cheeks kick up a notch closer to inferno at the mention of Sebastian. Yesterday he called me beautiful, and seconds later, a gorgeous girl had her tongue down his throat. It was almost like the universe was trying to remind me where I stood.

  I change the subject. “Logan seems nice.” I’m not completely naïve. I know guys find me attractive, but when they don’t see much of my scarring, I always feel as if I’m misleading them. It’s like I can’t trust that anyone thinks I’m pretty until after they see the whole not-so-pretty picture, and to date, no one but my doctors have. “Is he?”

  “What?”

  “Is he nice? You seemed to know each other.”

  She shrugs. “Honestly, I never knew him that well, but he was tight with Nic Mendez.”

  “Mendez?” I frown, trying to place the name. “Mia’s brother?”

  She nods and picks at her nails. “Yeah. He died last year.” That explains the somber tone when they talked to each other. She lifts her gaze to mine, and I recognize the sadness there. It’s the kind of sadness you feel when you lose part of yourself. I recognize it because I’ve experienced it. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.

  “I’m sorry, Bailey. I had no idea.”

  She hops off the stool. “Me too. But I’m starting to figure out that life isn’t fucking fair, and this is no different.” She slings her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at the game Saturday, then we’ll get ready for the party together?”

  I nod and watch as she heads out the door. “Bailey,” I say, stopping her. “Thanks for doing this. It’s really nice of you.”

  “It’s fun,” she says, and it’s good to see her smile after watching sadness fill her eyes when she talked about Nic. “I’d much rather focus on your problems than my own, anyway.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sebastian

  I have a beautiful, blue-eyed brunette who won’t get off my mind, a redhead who thinks making out at Trent’s last weekend was some sort of marriage proposal, and a father who may or may not be using company funds for illegal activities. Usually, it’s a couple of weeks into the semester before I feel stressed, but this semester is going to be special.

  After my last class on Monday, I head over to Mom and Dad’s. I texted Dante this morning, and he still hasn’t been paid. He said it’s no big deal, but his reassurances do nothing for this anxiety gnawing at my gut every time I think about it.

  Dad hasn’t spent much time at the shop lately. He’s been handing over more responsibility to Dante and only coming in to take care of the books. I don’t have any problem with him delegating more and working less, but I hate not knowing what he’s up to—as if he’s my wayward child whom I need to keep in line. He’s not the kind of guy to laze around the house, so I know he’s filling his time somehow, and the whole money situation is far too fucking familiar for comfort.

  When I walk in the front door, I’m relieved to find Dad in the living room with Mom. They’re curled together on the couch, watching an old movie. She’s wrapped in an afghan and has her head tucked under his arm. The sight makes me stop and take a breath. I don’t know what I expected to see—I’d rather not analyze that—but I’m grateful for moments like these. I’m grateful for all evidence that the dark days are behind us.

  I clear my throat so they know I’m in the room.

  Mom looks up first. “Bash, you’re home. Don’t you have practice tonight?”

  I do. In fact, I need to make this quick with Dad so I can get back to campus and be on the field by six. “I just need to talk to Dad for a minute.” Her brow wrinkles, and I give her my best reassuring smile. “Just work stuff, Mom.”

  She pulls out of Dad’s embrace, and he grumbles something I can’t make out as he climbs off the couch. I nod to the back doors and head to the deck, since I want to be able to talk without Mom overhearing.

  Dad follows me and closes the door behind himself.

  “Dante didn’t get paid on Friday,” I say. As if he can see my ugly fears, Dad stiffens. Fuck. I take a deep breath and recite my prepared speech. “I think it’s time to look at the budget, Dad. We should be able to pay everyone. Business is steady.”

  “Everything costs more these days. Never mind all the government disposal regulations and fees,” he grumbles.

  I clench my fists and look up at the watercolor evening sky. Soon the leaves on the trees will match the yellows and reds of the sunset. The evidence that life goes on isn’t as comforting tonight as usual. Instead of the view making me itch to grab my camera, it makes me wonder if everything really does come back around—the sun, the seasons, our worst mistakes. “I know, but we should still be able to pay what we owe.”

  “We will, Sebastian. Dante knows this is temporary.”

  “I want to pay everyone what they’re owed when they’re owed it. That’s the kind of business we run.”

  “Dante was very understanding when I told him money was tight this month.”

  “Yes. Because he’s like family. But that doesn’t mean we should take advantage of it.” I have two more years of school left here, and the truth is, I’ve always been afraid the business might fall apart when I leave. Even if I don’t get to play pro ball, I’ll need to get a job, and I can’t see sticking around Blackhawk Valley. The truth is, I don’t have the time to hold the business together over the next two years. Football keeps me busier than a part-time job, then there are study tables, and my classes, which are going to be more challenging than ever this year. I’m irrationally frustrated that Dad hasn’t figured out a better way to manage cash flow, and I’m f
rustrated with myself for imagining the worst. “I just want to take a look at some of the new vendors. Maybe switching brands can save the business on expenses here and there.” I want to make sure you’re not skimming money off the books. I need to know you haven’t fallen into trouble again.

  His chest puffs out and he tilts up his chin. “You planning on buying the business off me and running it yourself?”

  I flinch. This is an old fight, and instead of addressing the problem at hand, he’s going to pick at a scab. “You know that’s not my plan,” I say softly.

  “Then back off. It’s my business, and I have it under control.”

  I open my mouth but decide not to fight. He’s made up his mind, and at the end of the day, if cash flow is a problem and he can’t pay Dante, seeing that for myself in the numbers isn’t going to change anything. And if this sick feeling in my stomach means Dad’s taking money from the business to get something else going…

  I can’t think about it. Going straight after years of meddling in the dark side was a battle, and I don’t know if my dad could survive it again. Unless I have a reason to believe he’s dealing, I need to trust him—for the sake of our relationship and my sanity.

  “Just let me know if I can help,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets.

  “You can, actually. I’m running to Chicago on Friday and I want you to check on your sister.”

  “A day trip to Chicago?” So much for putting my suspicions to rest. “Why?” It’s not a short drive.

  “There’s a musical Mom wants to see. That Hamilton all the kids are talking about.”

  “You are driving to Chicago to see Hamilton?” It doesn’t surprise me that Mom’s interested. I guess I’m just surprised that Dad’s willing to humor her—never mind spend the money on the tickets.

  “Happy wife, happy life,” he says.

  “I’ll check on Liv,” I say. I want to ask where he got money for the tickets if he can’t afford to pay Dante for his work. I want to demand that he promise me he doesn’t have any other business in Chicago.