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  He would not think of—fuck, she’s bent halfway over the table trying to hit the shot. Those jeans are hugging her ass in all the right places. Stop. Looking.

  Cursing under his breath, he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then grabbed a stick from the rack on the wall. “Stripes or solids?”

  “Solids,” Kane growled. “The kid didn’t sink a single shot.”

  Brick shrugged as he knocked the two-ball in the side pocket. As much time as he spent in Sucre’s bar, he had plenty of practice at pool. “He only wants to belong. The kid’s got a lot of heart.” Did he sound like a fucking Boy Scout or what? He shook his head at the drivel coming out of his mouth, then banked the four into the corner pocket.

  He waited for Kane to call him on it, but instead the guy nodded in agreement. “I know. Anyone else talk as much as him, I’d tell ’em to shut the fuck up, but with Robby, it’d be like kicking a puppy, you know? I don’t get why he wants to latch on to us. There’s not a soul in this crew who’s not fucked up in one way or another. We’re going to corrupt him, brother.”

  The one-ball sank, and he chuckled, the sound of his own laughter foreign to his ears. “I can’t believe it hasn’t happened already.”

  Will grumbled from the other side of the table. “You ladies going to keep giggling over there, or are we going to move this game along?”

  Brick raised his eyebrow, which in his neighborhood would usually leave a man shaking in his boots. Here, it went ignored. Will snarled and stood next to his teammate, Matt, folding his arms like a pouting child.

  For the second time in as many minutes, he wanted to laugh, but this time, he stifled the urge and focused on the table. As he moved to sink the five, Robby returned, jostling his arm.

  “Got the beer.”

  The shot went wild, and the cue ball scratched. Kane sighed deeply and raked his hand through his long dark hair.

  Robby looked totally clueless. “I hope Bud’s okay. The bartender gave me two pitchers. Who’s thirsty?” He held up the beer, one pitcher in each hand.

  No glasses in sight.

  He could tell the moment Robby realized his mistake, that proud smile starting to slip. “I’ll grab us some cups, kid.” It would be a while before his turn again anyway. He stepped over to the bar, then froze. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, a sure sign someone watched him. He turned his head a fraction and caught sight of her, barely two feet away.

  She looked dead at him. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth before sliding free.

  As his stomach did a slow flip, he tried to center himself. Maybe she was looking at someone else. He faced her full-on, and her gaze didn’t waver.

  Instead of turning away, she tilted her chin and offered a friendly smile. “You work with my brother.” She stuck out her hand. “My name’s Olivia. But everyone calls me Liv.”

  Her hand stayed outstretched. Did she want him to touch her? He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to retreat, before wrapping his big hand around her delicate one. He squeezed gently—carefully—noting the softness of her palm and the warmth of her skin before letting go.

  “I’m Brick,” he rumbled.

  Her brow furrowed. “Rick?”

  “Brick.”

  Liv’s forehead relaxed as she gave a slow nod. “Oh, I get it. Cause you’re built like a brick shithouse.”

  He gaped. Most people thought it had something to do with him hitting like a ton of bricks. Only he knew it was because his dad used to call him “thick as a brick.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. My mouth gets away from me sometimes when I start drinking. I swear it sounds downright charming in my head and when it comes out of my mouth…blech.” Her hand dropped dramatically to the bar.

  His head spun. Words failed him. Why would she care what she sounded like? Why was she even talking to him? Maybe she was only being friendly.

  He could be friendly…or at least pretend to be. A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. It felt weird. “You sound charming enough to me.”

  “Yeah?” Her eyes lit, and she leaned her body against the bar. “What’s your pleasure tonight?”

  He blinked. She couldn’t be asking what it sounded like.

  “From the bar, Dirty Mind.” She smirked. “What are you drinking tonight?”

  “Beer.”

  “I’ve always been partial to wine, myself.”

  He scowled. “Nasty.”

  “Hush. The only thing better is champagne. Though I love an Asti too. The bubbles put it over the top.” She smiled so easily, he could almost forget a girl like her would probably cross a crowded street if she saw him coming.

  Olivia raised her hand to the bartender and ordered two glasses of Asti. “C’mon. Try a glass with me.”

  The twenty-something college guy served them with a smile, and Olivia pushed one of the glasses toward Brick.

  He eyed it suspiciously. It looked like wine.

  “Sip it.” She took a small drink, and pleasure lit her face. “Let it roll over your tongue.”

  He followed her lead. “Not bad.” Not at all like the shit he’d tried the one and only time he took a date to Olive Garden. The only thing good about that night had been the breadsticks.

  “In high school, I had a friend who managed to score us bottles of this stuff from her big sister. We’d go up in her old tree house and drink while we listened to The Killers and My Chemical Romance.” She chuckled. “We thought we were so badass.”

  He grunted. “The Killers are still badass.”

  “Damn right. What else do you listen to?”

  He shrugged. No one had ever cared what kind of music he liked. “Some of the older Linkin Park stuff. Avenged Sevenfold.”

  She wiggled onto a barstool. ‘“Bat Country’ is my favorite.”

  “No way,” he deadpanned. “You seem more like a Top Forty kind of girl.”

  She tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “See what you get for judging a book by its cover? I shudder to think what else you thought when you first saw me.”

  He didn’t skip a beat. “I thought you were beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Fuck. Was he writing a high school love letter?

  She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. A pink blush stained her cheeks. “I couldn’t take mine off you either. I’ve been thinking about you ever since.” Her eyes widened at her own words.

  Every molecule of oxygen left the room. For one second, he allowed himself to imagine how it would be to have a woman like this one as his own. Someone clean. Unexpected. Lovely. His heart raced.

  How it would feel to touch her and not have her turn away. To taste her lips.

  No.

  Reality came barreling back into his brain. He’d only come here to look, to be close to her. He had no business talking to this woman…laughing with her…flirting with her. His hands were damn-near stained with blood. He was broken.

  Beneath her.

  And if Sucre ever got wind she had caught his eye, it could be a death sentence.

  Only her ignorance about his real life allowed her to look at him as though he might be a normal guy. A mistake he needed to correct quickly.

  Why the hell would she be thinking about me?

  “You shouldn’t.” He pushed his empty glass away and swallowed against the gravel in his throat. “You shouldn’t think about me at all. I’m not a good man, Olivia. Probably the worst you’ll ever meet.” He dropped a ten-dollar-bill on the bar, then snagged a handful of plastic cups. “You’re better off staying far away from me.”

  He allowed himself one last look into her wide blue eyes, then returned to his crew. One more drink, then he would leave. And he would not look at Olivia again.

  Of course, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the promise. The image of her face had burned in his brain whether he liked it or not.

  Fuck it. I’m leaving now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Liv

  Liv sat frozen on he
r stool at the bar, replaying her conversation with Brick.

  What had just happened?

  He made it clear the attraction she felt toward him wasn’t one-sided. His eyes drank her in when he walked in the door like she was water in the desert. She hadn’t imagined it. There had been a spark when they talked, and when she showed him her interest, his pupils had dilated, and his breathing had sped up. He’d looked as though he wanted to kiss her, then he’d shut down, and less than a minute after rejoining his friends by the pool tables, he’d marched out the door.

  Why?

  No matter what he said about himself, she’d pegged him as a nice guy. Not only had he stuck up for her, with the elbow jab at the work-site, but he’d been kind to the foreman’s assistant, even if he’d been subtle about it. First, when his biker buddy slammed Robby’s skill at playing pool, then when the guy forgot to bring cups for the beer. A lot of the guys she knew would have made fun of his mistakes. Ryan would have.

  Were those small tells enough to judge Brick better than he judged himself? She trusted her own judgment about men as far as she could throw one. She’d thought Ryan had loved her, and wasn’t he a colossal miscalculation?

  Her brother stepped into her line of sight. His blue eyes flashed. “Why were you talking to Brick?”

  Great. Will had kicked into Protector Mode. “Hello to you too, big brother. Yes, I am having a nice time at this birthday party I threw for you.” Her voice climbed. “Oh, no need to thank me for this. It’s what any sister would do.”

  “I’m serious, Liv.” He looked at the ceiling, then modulated his voice. “You need to stay away from him. He’s no good for you. Besides, you should be focusing on yourself. Taking it easy.” He pulled on her ponytail like he had when she was fifteen.

  Annoyance prickled beneath her skin. Will had been gone for years, and it was far too late for him to try to resume his role as her older-sibling savior. Besides, she finished her chemo months ago. She was in complete remission, and Will knew it. It grated for him to bring it up now, especially when she was still reeling a little from Brick’s bizarre brush-off. “I’ve had about enough of men telling me what’s good for me tonight,” she warned. “I know you were gone for a while, but I am twenty-six years old, Will. A grown-ass woman. Don’t treat me like a child.”

  “Then don’t act like a child.” He sounded reasonable, which grated more.

  She narrowed her eyes, and he scowled in response.

  “You don’t know the first thing about Brick Barlow, and you’re making eyes at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.”

  Her irritation went up another notch. She growled as she got to her feet. “I haven’t had a daddy in almost seventeen years. I don’t need you to come back in my life and try to act like one now. Brick and I only talked at the bar for a few minutes, which you clearly saw. But if I wanted to fuck a rodeo clown and post it to PornHub, it would still be none of your business.”

  “All grown up, huh? Too many drinks could be clouding your judgment.” He swiped her driver’s license from the bar and held it in the air with a smirk. “I’m officially cutting you off.”

  She resisted the urge to fight him for it, like she did when he’d swipe one of her toys as a kid. Back then, he’d laugh, holding the prize over her head, while she jumped and tried to reach. He wanted her to do it now, be the same kid he remembered. She would not give him the satisfaction.

  She didn’t drive tonight, anyway.

  Instead, she clipped his shoulder with hers as she headed toward the door. “Happy birthday. Dick.”

  It wasn’t until her Lyft driver dropped her home, she allowed herself to think more about what happened. As she searched her memories, she grew surer and surer Brick had a thing for her. Still, she couldn’t ignore the puffy, purple black eye he had tonight and the scabbed-over knuckles on his hand.

  He was obviously into some rough stuff but trying to keep her away from it. Perhaps she should listen to him and keep her distance.

  The way he’d looked at her, though…no one had ever looked at her that way. Sure, she’d had boyfriends over the years and a fair amount of sex, so she’d seen desire. But never anything this intense.

  Brick’s eyes consumed her. It was a stark, naked, needful thing, and it burned her from the inside out.

  He made her feel alive. Wasn’t that what she was looking for?

  When he’d grasped her fingers, his touch echoed in every part of her body. She could still feel the thick callouses on his skin, the roughness completely at odds with the careful way he touched her hand.

  She dreamed of those calloused hands as she slept, wrapped in the sheets of her bed. The way they scratched against the tender skin of her nipples. How they ghosted down her body, attending her between her legs.

  His features were hazy, but Brick’s eyes were unmistakable; his fierce stare locked on her face as he gave her pleasure.

  It had never been like this with Ryan.

  She woke up as she came, her own fingers moving beneath her panties. Sweat drenched her body, but her limbs felt languid. Loose. Satisfied. Groaning, she pulled the pillow over her head.

  If she was going to forget Brick Barlow, she had her work cut out for her.

  ***

  “This may be a little harder than I thought,” Liv mumbled as she curled up into a ball on the mat.

  When she’d taken the plunge and accepted her sister’s invitation to try a Krav Maga class, she’d expected to feel strong and empowered, not like roadkill.

  She and Izzy were the last two people remaining in the mid-sized room. Designed for basic workouts and sparring, it was bare, except for the padding on the floor. Nowhere to hide. A large window took up one wall, filling the open space with sunlight.

  Izzy held out her hand and laughed as Liv slowly pulled herself up. “Don’t be such a baby. You should’ve signed up for one of these classes years ago.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You work out in your sleep.”

  Iz wasn’t taking the class with her. She was teaching it, and her big sister showed no mercy.

  “Hey, you said you wanted to do this. It’s not enough to talk the talk, Nugget, you’ve got to walk the walk.” Ignoring her grimace at the family nickname, Iz continued, “You don’t work in the best part of town. You live alone. You need to be able to protect yourself. It won’t do you any good if I go easy on you.” Her sister cracked open a bottle of water and handed it over.

  At least Iz didn’t doubt her ability to put herself through the physical challenge, though this would be tougher than she expected. Her arm shook as she lifted the water bottle to her lips. “I know.” She trudged toward the door. “I don’t want you to take it easy on me. I can do this.”

  Izzy’s hearty laugh boomed behind her. “I might believe it if you weren’t hobbling around like an old lady. C’mon. Get showered. We’re going to be late for lunch with Carol.”

  The hot water soothed her quivering muscles. Izzy had worked her like a dog. Running. Cardio. Punching. Kicking. She had no illusions of becoming the same kind of badass as her sister. For one thing, Izzy’s life revolved around the gym. Nothing about Liv was hard. She was a nurturer. She fought for people, not against them.

  Still, this class provided a chance to prove something to herself—and to her brother and everyone else who considered her a fragile flower.

  Pride swelled in her chest. No fragile flowers here.

  And check me out, stepping out of my safety zone.

  Now that she was healthy—and single—she needed to try new things, expand her world. Skydiving was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Looking back on her time with Ryan, she’d been a cardboard cut-out of the woman she wanted to be. She did her work, but she hadn’t been connecting with the kids. Thanks to students like Devon, teaching had become more than simply a job.

  She had pleasant acquaintances, but no real friends other than Carol. Ryan’s world had been her world before she got sick, and it a
ll went away when their relationship ended. It really hadn’t been much of a loss, but realizing that took time.

  It would be easy to blame her ex for washing the vibrancy from her life. But had it ever really been there? Probably not. Celebrating her new lease on life meant living it differently.

  She smiled as she toweled off. Jumping out of the plane rocked as a follow-up to the cliff diving trip at Lake Hartwell. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. Carol had written several other items they still needed to mark off on their Dare to Dream list. Scuba diving. Racecar driving.

  Her cheeks warmed. Maybe she needed to add a forbidden romance to the list or at least add it to the unwritten pile of crazy shit she’d been trying. Like karaoke. The old Liv—the one who played it safe—she would have never dragged Carol to Kings of Karaoke to face her fear of singing in public with a rousing rendition of “Moves Like Jagger.” The old Liv would have never gone to Mardi Gras and flashed her boobs on Bourbon Street. And she never would have ridden the mechanical bull at PBR Atlanta.

  Every one of those things scared the crap out of her, but she didn’t regret any of them. She liked being the kind of woman who pushed the envelope. It was liberating to turn her back on being afraid.

  Izzy drove her to the sushi bar down the street. Liv would have preferred Chipotle, but her sister offered to pay, and she had a weird thing about what she would eat.

  Carol stood right inside the front door and greeted her with a warm hug. She had laughter in her eyes as she pulled away. “You look rode hard and put up wet, girlfriend.”

  “Fuck you.” She meant it, but only a little, and Carol took it in stride, linking their arms together as they followed the hostess to the table.

  Iz ordered a plate of raw stuff, while Liv opted for a shrimp tempura roll in a Bento Box. She’d earned her carbs, dammit.

  Carol ordered lo mein.