The Wild Ones (The Wild Ones #1)(14)
Author: M. Leighton

But obviously not the furthest thing from Trick’s. His smile fades and his face sinks into a frown. He backs away from me just before we hear Rusty’s voice getting closer.

Trick walks back to the door and I rejoin Jenna. When I stop by her side, she turns to look at me. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – Trick

“I don’t even need to ask who that was,” Rusty declares as we watch Cami and her friends drive away. “She’s pretty hot.”

I throw him an incredulous look. “’Pretty hot’?”

Rusty shrugs. “Yeah. She’s pretty hot. But her friend…damn!”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Could you be a little more obvious?”

“What? I barely looked at her!”

“Dude, you needed a freakin’ bib! You all but drooled all over yourself. I’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t kick your ass.”

Rus snickers. “Like that could’ve happened.”

Rusty has always been scrappy. He’s a big guy now, but that hasn’t always been the case. Even when he wasn’t, he was not the kind of guy you wanted to mess with. You just didn’t. Still don’t. Unless you’re me, of course. We’ve been in our share of drunken brawls with each other. I think we’ve both won a few and lost a few.

“Missing the point, man.”

“I got this, Trick. Calm down. Holy balls! You’re worse than my mom.”

I drag my fingers through my hair. “Sorry, Rus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself, bro. You’ve got some kind of hero complex, thinking you gotta save everybody.”

“Feeling responsible for my family does not mean I have a hero complex.”

“But it’s more than just that. It’s like you think if you can save enough people, it’ll change things. Or change you somehow. Make you feel less guilty.”

“Nothing can make me feel less guilty.”

“Trick, it wasn’t your fault! How many times do you have to hear that before it sinks in?”

I laugh bitterly. “Apparently a few more, because this is only making me mad.”

“You and that temper. Why is it that you’ve learned to hide it from everyone but me?”

“No one else makes quite as good a punching bag as you.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be. You wanna go a round, Ace?”

Rusty starts dancing around, shadow boxing like some sort of prize fighter who’s just entered the ring. It gets even better when he starts humming the Rocky tune.

I can’t help but laugh at him. More often than not, he’s just what I need.

“Bring it, Firecracker.” I stand up and hold out my hands. Rusty taps each palm with quick jabs and then smacks me upside the head.

“Oh-ho-ho!” I say. “Enjoy that one, ‘cause it’s the only time those hands are gonna touch me.”

Despite my 6’2” frame, I’m agile. Always have been. Quick and light on my feet. I bounce around him a little and then, BAM! I land a solid slap to his right cheek.

Rusty’s eyes flash. His temper is much easier stirred than mine, but it burns out quickly. Unlike mine. I’ve learned to control my temper, but once it’s fired up…well, let’s just say the blast radius is usually pretty wide and devastating.

Rusty reaches out with his left hand. I dodge it and tap his ribs with my fingertips. He comes in next with two lightning fast right jabs. I dip to the side and avoid both then pop up and brush his chin.

“Looks like rusty is more than just a name for you,” I tease, knowing I’m pushing my luck.

Much to my surprise, Rusty stops, drops his hands to his sides and smiles at me. “You’re not gonna get to me, Trick. Not this time. I’d rather break open that bottle of Patron over there and think about the hot chick I just met.”

I relax as well. “That does sound like a lot more fun, doesn’t it?”

I move over to Rusty and, just as I’m getting close, he sucker punches me in the stomach. It’s not hard enough to really hurt, but it’s hard enough to knock the wind out of me for just a second.

“You’re such a dick,” I sputter.

With a laugh, Rus slaps me on the back and leads the way to his stash of my favorite tequila.

********

The door creaks as it opens. I crack an eyelid to look around. My brain hurts. I think it’s actually dizzy. And trying to differentiate drunken dream from sobering sunshine is not helping.

My head clears a little and I open my eyes all the way to glance at my bedside clock.

It’s already 7:00? Damn!

I hear soft footsteps as Grace sneaks up to the bed. I guess waking up before me twice in one week is like pure heaven for her.

Even though I’d rather go back to sleep, I should technically already be gone, heading to work. Regardless of either, I wait patiently for her to get closer.

When I see her feet come into view, I reach out and tickle her stomach. Me scaring her makes her happy, so yeah, I make a big roar for added effect.

She squeals in delight and takes off.

Mission accomplished.

“Mom says your phone’s been ringing,” she says from the doorway, a nice safe distance from my reach. She’s still smiling.

I look on the bedside table and, sure enough, my phone’s not there.

Must’ve dropped it on my way in last night.

I sit up and realize that my headache has a headache. I groan, genuinely this time, and Grace runs off screaming. Painfully, it echoes around in my skull.

Note to self: don’t make her scream after half a bottle of Patron.

Before I even make it to the bathroom, I see pink slippered feet appear. I squint up at Mom. She doesn’t look happy. I can almost see the lecture hanging around her tight lips.

Thank God, she saves it for later.

“Your boss called. Four times. Something has come up. He wants you to plan on being around the stable tonight and maybe for the rest of the week.”

Great! Not just any day with a hangover, but a long day. Working with horses. Riding them. I’m an idiot.

“I hear ya. I’m getting up.”

She shakes her head at me.

“Son, I just…”

“I know, Mom. I’m fine. Just a bad day yesterday.”

“And drinking didn’t change that, now did it?”

Good point.

Without another word, she turns and walks away, leaving me to get ready for the longest, most uncomfortable day of my life. I head straight for the Tylenol.