Chaos series by Kristen Ashley

“Right, so we gonna do that, you sittin’ there sluggin’ it back and me standin’ here watchin’ you, or are we gonna do something? Like play pool.”

“I rock at pool,” she informed him.

“Babe, I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Totally,” he said through a grin.

“You’re so sure, darlin’, we’ll make it interesting,” she offered.

“I’m up for that,” he agreed. “I win, you make me cookies. You win, you pick.”

He barely finished speaking before she gave him a gift the likes he’d never had in his entire f**king life.

The pale moved out of her features as pink hit her cheeks, life shot into her eyes, making them vibrant, their startling color rocking him to his f**king core before she bested all that shit and burst out laughing.

He had no idea what he did, what he said, but whatever it was, he’d do it and say it over and over until he took his last breath just so he could watch her laugh.

He didn’t say a word when her laughter turned to chuckles and continued his silence, his eyes on her.

When she caught him looking at her, she explained, “My cooking, hit and miss. Sometimes, it’s brilliant. Sometimes, it’s…” she grinned “… not. Baking is the same. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it. I don’t even have that”—she lifted up her fingers to do air quotation marks—“signature dish that comes out great every time. I don’t know what it is about me. Dad and Rush, even Tyra, they rock in the kitchen. Me, no.” She leaned in. “Totally no. So I was laughing because anyone who knows me would not think cookies from me would be a good deal for a bet. Truth is, they could be awesome but they could also seriously suck.”

“How ’bout I take my chances?” he suggested.

She shrugged, still grinning. “Your funeral.”

Her words made Shy tense, and the pink slid out of her cheeks, the life started seeping out of her eyes.

“Drink,” he ordered quickly.

“What?” she whispered, and he reached out and slid the tequila to her.

“Drink. Now. Suck it back, babe. Do it thinkin’ what you get if you win.”

She nodded, grabbed the bottle, took a slug, and dropped it to the bar with a crash, letting out a totally f**king cute “Ah” before she declared, “You change my oil.”

His brows shot up. “That’s it?”

“I need my oil changed and it costs, like, thirty dollars. I can buy a lot of stuff with thirty dollars. A lot of stuff I want. I don’t want oil. My car does but I don’t.”

“Tabby, sugar, your dad part-owns the most kick-ass garage this side of the Mississippi and most of the other side, and you’re paying for oil changes?”

Her eyes slid away and he knew why.

Fuck.

She was doing it to avoid him. Still.

Serious as shit, this had to stop.

So he was going to stop it.

“We play pool and we get drunk and we enjoy it, that’s our plan, so let’s get this shit out of the way,” he stated. Her eyes slid back to him and he said flat out, “I f**ked up. It was huge. It was a long time ago but it marked you. You were right. I was a dick. I made assumptions, they were wrong and I acted on ’em and I shouldn’t have and that was more wrong. I wish you would have found the time to get in my face about it years ago so we could have had it out, but that’s done. When you did get in my face about it, I should have sorted my shit, found you, and apologized. I didn’t do that either. I’d like to know why you dialed my number tonight, but if you don’t wanna share that shit, that’s cool too. I’ll just say, babe, I’m glad you did. You need a safe place just to forget shit and escape, I’ll give it to you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. That safe place is me, Tabby. But I don’t want that old shit haunting this. Ghosts haunt until you get rid of them. Let’s get rid of that f**kin’ ghost and move on so I can beat your ass at pool.”

As he spoke, he saw the tears pool in her eyes but he kept going, and when he stopped he didn’t move even though it nearly killed him. Not to touch her, even her hand. Not to give her something.

It killed.

Before he lost the fight to hold back, she whispered, “You are never gonna beat my ass at pool.”

That was when he grinned, leaned forward, and wrapped his hand around hers sitting on the bar.

“Get ready to have your ass kicked,” he said softly.

“Oil changes for a year,” she returned softly.

“You got it but cookies for a year,” he shot back.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she replied.

He’d eat her cookies, they were brilliant or they sucked. If Tabitha Allen made it, he’d eat anything.

Shy didn’t share that.

He gave her hand a squeeze, nabbed the bottle, and took off down the bar toward the cues on the wall.

Tabby followed.

* * *

They were in the dark, in his bed, in his room in the Compound.

Shy was on his back, eyes to the ceiling.

Tabby was three feet away, on her side, her chin was tipped down.

She was obliterated.

Shy wasn’t even slightly drunk.

She’d won four games, he’d won five.

Cookies for a year.

Now, he was winning something else, because tequila didn’t make Tabitha Allen a happy drunk.

It made her a talkative one.

It also made her get past ugly history and trust him with absolutely everything that mattered right now in her world.

“DOA,” she whispered to the bed.

“I know, sugar,” he whispered to the ceiling.

“Where did you hear?” she asked.

“Walkin’ into the Compound, boys just heard and they were taking off.”

“You didn’t come to the hospital.”

He was surprised she’d noticed.

“No. I wasn’t your favorite person. Didn’t think I could help. Went up to Tack and Cherry’s, helped Sheila with the boys,” he told her.

“I know. Ty-Ty told me,” she surprised him again by saying. “That was cool of you to do. They’re a handful. Sheila tries but the only ones who can really handle them are Dad, Tyra, Rush, Big Petey, and me.”

Shy didn’t respond.

“So, uh… thanks,” she finished.

“No problem, honey.”

She fell silent and Shy gave her that.