Rule. Jay Crownover
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emotion. “Just one weekend I wanted a break from dealing with you.” She flounced away from me and for the first time since I had met her I realized that maybe spending time with me was as much a pain for her as it was for me. When I turned back to my friends they were all looking at me with a mixture of pity and awe. My scowl darkened even more as I chugged back my full beer in one swallow.
“What?” I could hear the surliness in my tone.
“Dude, what’s the deal with that?” Rowdy was the one who asked the question, but Nash and Jet both looked like they wanted to ask the same thing.
“What are you talking about?”
Nash lifted up his beer to hide a smile. “You both looked like you either wanted to box each other or tear each other’s clothes off and go at it right in the middle of the bar. What gives with that? I thought she bugged you.”
“She does. She’s rich and spoiled and we don’t agree on anything; we never have.”
Rowdy gave me a look that outright called bullshit on my claim. “I know what I saw and there is no way you wouldn’t take her if she offered it up to you.”
I wanted to yell at him that he was wrong, so very wrong, because before she was any of the things that annoyed me and got under my skin, she was Remy’s, and there was nothing in heaven or hell that would make me forget that. Pulling in my temper, I poured another beer and lapsed into a moody silence. I wasn’t attracted to Shaw. I was just seeing her in a new environment, seeing her in something other than her fancy outfits that cost more than I made in a month.
We were almost to the bottom of the second pitcher when, silently, Shaw dropped off a replacement and a really pretty girl with supershort dark hair suddenly appeared at the edge of the table. She was tall and had eyes the color of Jack Daniel’s, a mouth that would give Angelina Jolie a run for her money, and a body that was meant to stop traffic. She was wearing the same uniform as Shaw; only instead of kick-ass boots she had on a pair of spike heels that probably made her taller than Nash and Jet. There was nothing on her lovely face that came across as welcoming.
Jet sat up straighter and Rowdy, who was by far the drunkest of all of us—he had started adding shots of tequila twenty minutes ago—almost fell off his stool when she posted up at the table between the two of them. Her gaze was trained directly on me, though, so I met her look for look until she finally spoke. She had a soft Southern twang and I could swear I saw Jet fall in love on the spot.
“You’re Rule.” It wasn’t a question so I just nodded. “I’m Ayden Cross. I live with Shaw.”
I wasn’t sure why that was supposed to matter to me so I kept silent while my best friend whipped his head around to glare at me. I was being kind of rude, but I was buzzed and still pissed at Shaw, so I didn’t really care.
“I don’t know what your deal is, but leave her alone. She doesn’t need you screwing with her head anymore, so just back off.”
I blinked because I honestly had no clue what this babe was talking about. “I don’t mess with Shaw.”
She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at me. “I know exactly what you do and don’t do, Tattoo Boy. I adore Shaw. She’s sweet, nice, and the best roommate ever. You need to just go do your troubled, bad-boy act somewhere else, she doesn’t need it …” It looked as if she was gearing up to lay into me even more, but something caught her eye and suddenly her eyes were glowing with gold fire. “Oh my God! I cannot believe that asshole had the nerve to show up here. I need to go get Lou.” She spun on her heel and marched through the crowd, leaving me reeling. I had no clue what she was talking about but clearly something had crawled up her butt. I looked over my shoulder and felt every protective cell I had suddenly come alive.
Shaw was standing by the bar. It was crowded but her white-blond hair was unmistakable. She looked stressed and freaked out while a guy in a white polo shirt crowded her into the edge of the bar. He had a hand on her shoulder and was leaning down into her face. Whatever he was saying to her made her look like she wanted to punch him in the nuts or puke on his shoes. I’d never seen a look of panic on her face like that before; she was normally so cool and unflappable. Against my better judgment I was climbing to my feet. I wasn’t the type to give two shits about a damsel in distress, and this damsel, I knew for a fact, could take care of herself. But she looked like she was struggling and, despite how I felt about her, I was going to intervene.
“I’ll be back in a second.”
Since I’m tall and have a good portion of visible skin covered in designs that cry “don’t mess with me,” I didn’t have to worry about people in the crowded bar moving out of my way. When I got close enough her eyes snapped to me and I was pretty sure I saw relief flood into their sparkly green depths. Polo Shirt leaned in even closer to her, and I thought I heard him say something about how things were going to look when he went home alone over winter break. I saw her stiffen and try to pull away, but Polo Shirt just moved in closer to keep her pinned against the bar.
“I don’t care what my mother told you, Gabe. We’re over. I have no interest in going to Aspen with you or your family. Stop calling me and stop showing up where I’m at.”
“Baby, we’re meant for each other and once you stop being stubborn you’ll see how great we could be together.” I hated guys who called girls “baby.” Baby was what you used when you didn’t remember the girl’s name or you were just too lazy to come up with your own nickname for her.
She wiggled a little more and I noticed the way the guy’s eyes followed the deep vee of her revealing outfit.
“Let go of me, Gabe. I didn’t want to be with you like that when we were dating, and I sure as hell don’t want to be with you like that now. Leave me alone.”
Polo Shirt got red in the face at her blatant rejection. He was about to lean even farther into her, about to put his other hand on her, when I reached out and grabbed her wrist and tugged her free. Polo Shirt was a good four inches shorter than me so I tucked Shaw’s small frame under my arm and glared at him over the top of her head.
“Sorry I’m late, Casper.” Without missing a beat she put an arm around my waist and practically collapsed into my side. I had used the nickname to tease her when we were younger because her hair was almost white and I knew she hated it. Now it sounded intimate and personal, like we had some kind of secret Polo Shirt wasn’t in on.
“No problem. I’ve got an hour or so left of my shift. Can you hang out until I’m off?” Her eyes were pleading with me to play along but I was too busy wondering why my side felt like it was on fire where we touched.
“No problem. Who’s your friend?”
Polo Shirt was glaring at me and turning an alarming shade of red. He didn’t even give Shaw a chance to respond.
“I’m her boyfriend, Gabe Davenport. Who are you?”
Shaw went stiff next to me and I felt her fingers clutch the back of my shirt.
“Gabe, this is Rule Archer. Rule, this is Gabe, my EX-boyfriend, only he’s having a hard time getting the ‘ex’ part down.”
“Shaw, get away from him. What are you thinking? You can’t possibly think anyone is going to believe you would go from me to someone like him, can you? Just look at him, he’s a mess.”
I was immune to the “someone like him” tactic—I heard it all the time—but apparently Shaw wasn’t. She bristled like a wet cat and made a move like she was going to poke the guy in the chest. I wrapped her back up against my side and subtly tried to calm her down by rubbing a hand up and down her bare arm.
“I’ve known Rule most of my life, Gabe. I couldn’t care less what he looks like because he isn’t anybody’s puppet, and the same thing cannot be said about you. Don’t think you can stand there and judge him or me, not when you’re practically stalking me and trying to bully me into a relationship by manipulating my parents because you know they like you. Ayden is here and you can bet