Page 6 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

Six Months Ago

It was my idea to meet at a bar.

It was also my idea that the bar be The Horny Bard. The most infamous hangout for all the soccer players in Bardstown. For my date.

Yes, I’m on a date.

The guy—Miles—thinks I’m twenty-four instead of twenty-one. And he himself is twenty-seven. I found him on a dating app. He has blond hair and pretty brown eyes, and I think his smile is great. He loves soccer like everyone else in this town, but I decided to forgive him for his mistake.

But back to why I chose this bar. Not only to show Miles that I’m older than my age, but also because of him.

I haven’t seen him since his impromptu engagement at the charity event.

Mostly because he’s been on the road for the season.

But I knew he’d be here tonight. The season is still on, and he’s got his championship game day after tomorrow.

It’s a home game and he’s visiting Bardstown for a couple of days, like he always does when he’s got some time on his hands.

I heard Callie say he was going to let off some steam before the big game and go see his friends at the bar.

She didn’t have to specify which bar though; I already knew.

So when Miles told me to choose where to meet up, I picked this place.

To show him.

That I’ve moved on. That I’ve gotten a fucking life and forgotten he exists.

I realize this whole show and tell may suggest that I’m not as into this date as I should be, but it’s not true.

I do like Miles. I do want this date to be successful.

But I also want to rub it in his face. I was minding my own business that night, dealing with my own heartbreak, when he found me.

He was the one who followed me. He was the one who said all those assholish things to me.

There was no need for him to be so cruel, but he was anyway. So this is payback.

The place is packed, as it usually is every night of the week, not just the weekend.

The lighting is not the best so it’s hard to say if he’s here yet or not, but when Miles pulls me to the makeshift dance floor, I go with him.

I dance with Miles like he’s watching, and halfway through the song, when Miles pulls me even closer, I don’t resist. I’m not especially happy with the lack of distance.

Even though I tell myself I should be; I like him and we’re on a date so it’s not a big deal.

But if he’s really watching, I should put on a good show.

So I spin around in Miles’s arms, moving and twisting my hips, when I finally see him .

He’s at the edge of the dance floor with his eyes locked on me.

I come to a halt and for a few seconds all I can do is stare at him, at his tall figure.

Tall and dark and immobile. Everyone else around us is moving and swaying, laughing, but we’re standing still.

Staring at each other, connected. But then I start to move.

I press myself even closer to Miles as I resume dancing, twisting my hips, writhing, and I notice his jaw clench.

I notice his fingers fist and his eyes narrow, a dark current running through his body.

I can’t deny the satisfaction that goes through me at this. I can’t deny I’m not trying to make him jealous. To show him he doesn’t matter to me. Yes, I’m lying, but he doesn’t need to know that. All he needs to know is I took his advice, and he can go fuck himself.

But then he starts to move toward us and my heart skips a beat.

No, my heart practically stops as I watch him prowl, cutting through the dancing crowd, undeterred.

It doesn’t matter that people are bumping into him, crashing and colliding.

He’s unaffected, all broad chest and steely thighs.

I don’t know what his intention is, but it doesn’t look good.

In fact, his eyes are flashing and there’s a certain intent in his demeanor that screams danger.

I should be reacting to it, I know. I should be doing something instead of simply staring into his eyes, but I can’t.

I’m all frozen and foggy, and that’s probably why it takes me a few seconds to realize he’s here and what he’s done.

Pushed Miles away from me. He’s put his large hand on my date’s shoulder and given him a shove, breaking our embrace.

All aggressively and possessively. Like I’m a toy he doesn’t want anyone else to play with.

Then moving his eyes over to Miles, he growls, “Beat it.”

Confusion is clear on Miles’s face, and I try to go to him when he addresses me. “Take one step toward him and I’ll fucking break his bones.”

I snap my eyes over to him and instantly know he means it. I know it down to my core, and it serves as a wake-up call. It makes me realize I’ve lost my mind. What was I thinking playing games with him? What was I thinking involving someone else in my games? What if Miles gets hurt, what then?

God, I’m so stupid . I’ve been so angry at him all these months, so freaking furious, that as soon as I heard he was back in town, I reacted without thinking things through.

And look what I did. I back away then, from him.

And notice his eyes going narrow in displeasure.

But I don’t care. I’m getting out of here. I’m getting away from him.

I turn away and start rushing out, cutting through the crowd and making for the hallway in the back where the exit is.

I push the metal door open and come out into the dark parking lot.

The area is surrounded by a chain link fence and there’s a metal gate in the far back.

I start walking toward it when I hear the door open again, followed by thudding footsteps.

My heart jumps into my throat, and before I can think it through or even confirm if it’s really him behind me—but I know, I know it is—I start running.

My breaths are coming hard and fast and my heels are clacking on the asphalt.

Chills are racing down my spine that only grow when he starts to run as well.

I hear his thudding footsteps, giving chase, and oh God, I think I’m going to pass out from fear. I’m going to pass out from the thrill .

From this confusing set of flutters in my belly and goosebumps on my skin.

A second later, he grabs me. And when I say that, I really mean it.

He puts his arms— both of them—around my waist and picks me up off the ground.

My back crashes against his wildly breathing chest and the air gets knocked out of my lungs.

I shriek, short and loud, but it doesn’t deter him.

He keeps me pinned to himself, carries me a few steps to the right before putting me down.

He spins me around and pushes me up against a vehicle.

“Get…” I try with panting breaths, my sweaty hands slipping on the metal I’m stuck to. “Get away from me.”

He leans over me instead, doing exactly the opposite, his broad shoulders cutting off the light in the parking lot. He goes ahead and puts his hands on the roof of the truck he has me against too, caging me in as he growls, “I will when you start acting like you mean it.”

“I do mean it. I?—”

“Because so far, you haven’t been very convincing.”

My heart is pounding so hard, it’s going to burst out of my chest. “You’re the… You’re the one who followed me out here.”

“Because you wanted me to.”

“I literally ran away from you.”

“So I could catch you.”

“Oh my God, you’re delusional.”

“No, just an expert at reading your mind.”

I breathe out sharply, my heart still trying to fly out of my body.

With clenched teeth, I say, “ Get away from me . Just get away from me, all right? I didn’t want you to follow me.

I didn’t want you to catch me. I want nothing to do with you.

Not after how big of an asshole you were that night. Not after?—”

“So this is about that night,” he cuts me off, his jaw pulsing.

“You—”

“I guess what they say is true then,” he goes on. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“What good deed?”

He leans closer, his biceps bulging with the action. “I warned you, didn’t I. To get some goddamn fucking sense and stay the fuck away from me. That’s the most good I’ve done for someone in a long fucking time.”

“You call that a good deed? You were?—”

“But instead of a nice fucking thank you, I find you jerking that asshole off with your tight little ass.”

“What? I wasn’t jerking him off.”

“Then what the fuck were you doing?”

“Dancing, you asshole,” I snap, getting all up in his face. “It’s called dancing. With my date.”

He draws back slightly. “That fuckface was your date.”

“He’s not a fuckface,” I protest. “His name is?—”

“You say his name,” he growls, his voice low and threatening, “and I’ll hunt him down and make him forget yours.”

I shiver at his threat. And just like I knew back there that he’d follow through on it, I very much believe him now as well. I know he can do it. Because I think he already has.

“You had him fired,” I breathe out.

“What?”

My breath turns into a hiccup as I say, or more like accuse, “My catering boss. From that night. You had him fired, didn’t you?”

The official statement was that he had to leave because he got another job.

But I’m not an idiot. I know he had something to do with it.

The famous Wrecking Thorn, my asshole stepbrother.

They’d do anything for him in this town, including fire someone at his demand.

And yes, it did feel good that my boss wouldn’t be there to hit on me and make my job difficult, but I still don’t think he should’ve gone behind my back like that.

Especially after how he behaved that night.

“He was harassing you,” he replies.

“I never said that,” I retort.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You’re not really a mind reader.”

“No, not a mind reader. Just your mind reader.”

“I could’ve handled him.”

“And I did handle him.”

Something warms in my chest at that. That he actually went out of his way to help me. But I can’t really negate the fact that so far he’s been an asshole to me. So I exhale, less angrily though, before saying, “Okay, now can you let me go, please?”

He flicks his eyes over my face, and even though it’s dark I hate that he’s looking at me so closely. Looking at all my freckles and flaws. I hate that even though I want him to not look at me, I also don’t want him to look away.

“He was old enough to be your dad,” he says then.

I frown. “What, who?

“Your fuckface of a date.”

“What? He wasn’t?—”

“But I guess that’s your thing,” he goes on. “Going for the older guys. No judgement, but it screams of daddy issues.”

At this, my anger spikes once again and my palms itch to smack him across his arrogant, condescending face.

But I settle on scathing words. “First, my dad is MIA, okay? I haven’t seen him since I was five years old.

Second, it’s absolutely none of your business who I choose to date.

Third, he was your age. In fact, he was a little younger than you.

And from what I recall, you could be my big brother, not my daddy. So back off.”

There are a lot of things I was expecting him to take away from this. But I never thought he’d focus on this one thing when he says, his gaze oddly penetrating, “You haven’t seen your dad since you were five.”

I blink. “What?”

His frown is thick. “Is that because he was a piece of shit who left you?”

Shit, I should’ve known. That of all the things I said, this is what he’d latch on to. And I should’ve known that if he did, I would want to tell him everything. About my father, his father. How mine left us and how ever since his came into our lives, I haven’t felt safe.

But I can’t, so I do what I should to throw him off the scent.

“My dad is none of your business, like your family is none of mine. You’re the last person I’d ever talk to about him.

So why don’t you back off and let me go?

Because I don’t think your fiancée is going to like you detaining another girl here against her will. ”

Because he’s still engaged, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t he be? From what I’ve read and heard, they’re close to setting a date too. That’s what makes everything I did so twisted. Playing games with him, trying to make him feel jealous.

Something flashes through his eyes, somehow both bright and dark, and I know I’m in for it. I baited him and now he’s going to bite back.

“Was wondering when you’d bring her up,” he murmurs.

I flinch. “Look, I was just trying to?—”

“My advice is chamomile tea,” he keeps murmuring.

“What?”

“To help you sleep at night.”

“I don’t?—”

“Don’t want you lying awake in your bed wondering what I may be doing in mine.” He lowers his voice to add, “With my f iancée .”

I blush. “You know what, just get away from me.”

I even push at him but instead of budging, he comes closer.

He already was plenty close before. But now I breathe him in. We’re breathing each other’s air. And are those strawberries I smell? Sweet and tart. Like he’s been binge-eating that fruit for days, for years.

And oh my God, I think he’s staring at my lips. I think he just licked his own lips while staring at mine. It makes me tip my head further back. And that makes him dip his further down. Our faces are aligned now and a thought flashes through my head: he’s going to kiss me.

He is, isn’t he?

I close my eyes in anticipation of it and I think I feel our mouths almost, almost , grazing, when I hear something. Footsteps, angry and loud and suddenly, he’s jerked back. We’ve been ripped apart and he’s been hauled away from me. By his twin brother.

What the hell? Where did he come from?

Not only him but also the girl we were just talking about, his fiancée, Isadora. And then before I can even blink and confirm that this isn’t some nightmare, the brothers start fighting and all hell breaks loose.