“Take care, man,” says Andy. I bump the fist he offers, half-distracted, and just as I do I see the scrawny guy shove Wren’s shoulder and make her stumble.
“HEY!” I scream, and I’m off running toward them in an instant, as fast as my legs will carry me, leaving Andy standing there looking bemused. The rage I feel at the fact that the asshole shoved Wren like that is like nothing I’ve ever felt, even if I do get a little glow of satisfaction when I see her shove him right back. I slide over a car hood beside them.
He doesn’t see me coming until I’m well inside his peripheral vision, and the shock on his face when I grab the front of his shirt and lift him from his feet is almost comical.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand through gritted teeth, my voice dangerously low as I slam his back against the wall. Without taking my eyes off him, I ask, “You okay, Wren?”
Wren
“Hey, it’s alright,” I say. I keep my voice gentle and rest my hand on Lucas’s bulging bicep.
“No, Wren, it’s not alright for anyone to shove you like that,” he says. It’s weird, he is obviously furious, but he’s so controlled. I don’t have any fear of him at all, nor any fear that he will lose control and do something stupid.
“Well, true,” I concede. And honestly? I’m glad to see him. I’ve traveled the world solo, so it’s not like I haven’t been in my fair share of sticky spots, but they’re always that little bit easier to handle when you have someone with you, on your side. And I have no doubt at all that Lucas is on my side. In more ways than just this one.
“Look, man,” says the guy Lucas has up against the wall. It’s Bret. I almost didn’t recognize my ex at first. Much more ink, much less muscle. He looks gaunt and his skin is covered in little lesions and pimples. He looks like he’s managed to nurture the fledgling drug habit that broke us up into a full-blown meth addiction.
He’s holding his hands up and pleading with Lucas to release him, and it couldn’t be more obvious that there’s more chance of a nun opening a brothel than there is of this guy ever giving me back my lost rent money.
“Just let him go,” I sigh to Lucas, shaking my head. “It’s Bret.”
“Your ex?” he asks. I nod, and I feel my cheeks burn bright red when I notice Lucas giving Bret another, longer look over. He lets him go, but jabs a finger at his chest. “Stay,” he says, and then he takes my hand and pulls me off to the side, lowering his voice.
“Was he like that when you two were together?” I ask.
I wish for Lucas’ sake I could keep the sadness out of my eyes, but I can’t. I frown and shake my head. “No. He was smoking a little weed and occasionally taking amphetamine. This is… not the Bret I knew.”
Lucas nods, looking back over to where Bret is standing, dutifully staying put. “You care about him?” he asks.
I hesitate, glancing to Bret, then look to Lucas and nod. “Not as a boyfriend. But we were friends for years before that. I’ve known him since we were kids and seeing him like this is awful.” I look back to Lucas. “I’m sorry.”
“Little bird,” says Lucas, pulling me to him and holding me. He plants a kiss on top of my head. “Never apologize for being compassionate. There are enough soulless assholes in this world. Stay just the way you are, okay?”
I wrap my arms around him and nod, bathing in his warmth.
“Listen,” says Lucas. “I’m going to send a message to get you a car. Are you alright to drive?” he asks.
I nod, a slight frown of confusion on my face.
“Okay, go over to the shop and ask for Jimmy. He’ll get you a car. And don’t look at me like that. I’m going to try and get your friend some help and then I’ll meet you at home, alright?”
The fact that he says “home” and I instantly think of the mansion rather than my little cottage probably means something, but I’m too surprised that he’s planning to help Bret to dwell on it.
“Thanks, Lucas,” I say, and reach up to kiss his cheek. He turns his head and bites a kiss from my lips, and I can feel his eyes on me all the way across the street to the auto shop.
Chapter Six
Lucas
By the time I pull up outside the house it’s been five hours since I saw Wren in town. I’m exhausted, but when the sound of wheels on gravel brings her out to greet me, I’m elated. I could get used to that.
“Hey!” she smiles, and hands me a cold beer as I get out of the car.
I take it and lean in to kiss her. She melts into me the way butter melts into hot steak, and I live in the kiss for a moment, revelling in the sudden, unwavering knowledge that she is it, for me. Whether I can convince her to stay or not, there will never be another woman who can make me feel the things that Wren can make me feel with a simple smile or a goofy joke.
“Hey yourself,” I say, and we move into the house.
“So,” she says, licking her lips nervously.
“He’s alright,” I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s checked into a rehab center and he voluntarily signed to give permission for them to restrain him there for ninety days.”
“Wow. That was fast. I didn’t even know there was a rehab center nearby.”
“There’s not. I flew him to New York.”
“Flew…?”
I take a swig of my beer and place it down, and take Wren by the hand, pulling her with me.
“Helicopter,” I say. “It’s not only mine. We share it.”
“We?”
“I used to be a miner,” I say. “My team got a bonus and invested it in crypto and—”
“Oh my god! You’re one of the Brookshore Billionaires!”
I laugh out loud at the look on her face, and roll my eyes.
“I thought it was weird for a mechanic to live in a mansion but I didn’t want to ask.”
“Very polite,” I say, as I open the door to my bedroom and pull her inside.
“Well I’m a good girl,” she tells me, her voice a bit huskier.
I turn to face her, reaching down to start undoing the buttons down the front of her blouse. “Not all the time, I hope?”
“Not all the time,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Good,” I say, pulling her shirt open. I can see the outline of her hardened nipples on her bra and I’m already straining my pants.
“You know, I wanted you the first day I saw you,” I tell her, while I slowly undo the button and zipper on her denim shorts. “When you were standing in my old neighborhood, stomping your little foot in frustration.”
“Is that right?” she whispers. She’s distracted and barely focused on what I’m saying, and I realize I could spend hours and days of my life teasing this woman.
“Yup,” I nod, and drop down to my knees, pulling her shorts down as I go. I pull the laces of her sandals and unwrap them from around her ankles, then pull them off along with her shorts. She lifts her feet to help me.
“But I thought, I want that girl for more than just a fun night at the mansion. More than a fling or a casual experience.”