Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

“Thanks, man.” Rex shifts his gaze around the group. “Where’s Jonah? I thought you said him and Ray were coming by.”


A burst of laughter unexpectedly flies from my lips. “Yeah right. That dude’s been shacked up with his new wife at home since they got back from Bora Bora. I bet they haven’t worn clothes more than a few times since they’ve been married.”

Not that I blame the bastard. Raven’s not only hot, but she’s tough. The shit she went through last fall at the cabin… no typical woman could have done what she did. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Women are weak. Raven’s an anomaly.

I blink and shake my head against my conflicting thoughts. While I’m happy for the *-whipped Jonah, I’m glad that ain’t me. Raven carries more baggage than Boeing. He acts like it’s a damn pleasure to lug that weight around. No thank you.

I’m no fool to the ways of women. And I’d prefer to stick with the ones that are cool with casual sex without complications.

Speaking of which, my enthusiastic dates for the evening are getting restless, the strokes of their wandering hands growing even more bold.

“You girls hungry? I got something in my pocket that should fill you up.”

The blonde moans and licks her lips before running them along my neck. Her friend tosses her chestnut curls over her shoulder, a look of jealousy flaring in her eyes.

I smile and pull her to my side, leaning in to speak in her ear. “Don’t worry, babe. There’s plenty of me to go around.” In an effort to punctuate my words, I grab her ass and grind her against my thigh.

She slides her hand into the back pocket of my jeans. “Both of us?” she asks, with what sounds like a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

“Yeah, both of you.” I pull back to meet her eyes. “It’s a New Year. Try something new. You’ll be glad you did.”

It doesn’t matter if she agrees or not. There’re a handful of women who would take her place. A few I can see from where I’m standing, the rest an easy speed dial away.

She chews her lip, thinking it over.

The blonde has made her way to my mouth, grabbing my chin to pull me to her parted lips. Vodka on her tongue mixes with the sugary flavor of her lip-gloss. I sink into her kiss, making sure to give decision girl a visual that she won’t soon forget, a taste of what she’ll be missing.

Before long decision girl is tugging on my arm. I break the kiss and give her my ear.

She flexes her hand that’s still in my back pocket, and she runs her other up my chest. “I’m in.”

“Great news, babe.” I study her expression. Everything about her body language says she wants to go home with me, but something in her eyes puts my alcohol-flooded mind on alert. “You ready?” I press her, testing.

“Yeah, just let me hit the ladies room and make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”

She pushes up on her tiptoes, going for my lips.

I turn my head, taking her kiss on the cheek. “Phone call? Let me guess, husband?”

She recoils, her eyebrows pinching together. “No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She looks around then leans into my ear. “I have to call my sitter. Let her know I’ll be late.”

This shit ain’t happening. “Whoa, whoa.” I hold up my hand. I don’t need any more information than that. “No.”

“No?” Her mouth hangs open.

“Um, more like hell no.”

“I don’t—”

“Sorry, babe. You’re good looking, but I’ve got to send you packing.”

She gasps and pulls her hand from my back pocket. “I… I…”

“Yo, Baywatch,” I call out to the new guy, motioning for him to come over. He’s what I would think most girls would find attractive. A little too pretty, but muscled enough to look straight.

“What’s up, Blake?” He eyes the young mother who’s still standing there stiff and offended.

“I want to introduce you to…” I’m not hiding the fact that I don’t know her name. I swing my gaze to her and wait.

She glares at me. “Alana.”

“This is Baywatch.” I put pressure on her lower back, pushing her to him.

Baywatch looks pleased with his gift. “Hey, it’s nice to meet—”

Alana jerks her head around. “You’re a dick.”

I shrug.

The blonde at my side watches me brush off her friend. “Alana, are you okay?”

Nothing will kill my buzz faster than a nasty chick fight. It’s not personal. Hell, I’m probably doing the girl a favor. I’m definitely doing her kid a favor. Girl with a mouth to feed doesn’t need to be paying a babysitter overtime so she can go home with a dude that’ll fuck her and never call her again.

I murmur a quick “Be right back” and move to the opposite side of the bar, where Rex and the boys are hanging out. Baywatch isn’t far behind me. Apparently, chick fights aren’t his thing either. Maybe he deserves more credit than I gave him.

“What happened, B? You strike out?” Rex says.

He’s teasing. He knows I never go home alone on a holiday.

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