Page 40 of Southpaw Slots
“Fuck you,” he snarls.
“Stop it!” Ari stands abruptly, her chair almost flipping over. “This is why I wanted to have dinner. I want you two to get along for me. You’rebothwith me now. And you’ve agreed to it, right?”
My eyes drop to Ace’s face, who raises an eyebrow in return. “Yes,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says while still staring at me.
“So then, you two need a night together. I’m locking myself away in the guest wing or the old wing. Whatever it’s called. When I come to bed in the morning, you two better be best friends. Or you’re going to make me miserable.”
God, a miserable, crying Ari isnotone I can stand to be around for long. There’s some frantic energy that travels over to me from the shifting man at the head of the table, and when we lock gazes, I know he’s thinking the same thing.
“Got it, sugar. We’ll be best buds. Promise.” Ace snags her hand and kisses the knuckles, and I roll my eyes. What a fucking schmuck.
“Yep. We’ll be getting along, for sure,” I call to her as she saunters off toward the stairs.
“Goodnight, you two.”
With a casual glance at Ace, I return to my dinner. Both of us eat silently for the entire meal, except whenI groan out of frustration, tossing back my wine. I wish it was beer.
“Yeah, me too.”
Oh, I must have said it out loud. “Well, why don’t you ever have any?”
“They won’t let me,” he says, finishing his glass, his tongue trailing along his top lip to gather up the juice there.
Furrowing my brow, my chin tucks in with my shock. “Letyou? What are you, a child?”
His blue eyes blaze at me. “Fuck you, man.”
Shaking my head slightly, I hold up my hands to show him I mean no harm. “I’m-I’m actually not trying to be a douche. Who is it that’s not lettingthe King of the Southhave beer?”
“Uh…well, I guess Kline, mainly. I only really drank when I was with my pack. And they don’t stock it here.” His shoulders relax, but his cheeks flush pink.
“And you can’t leave to get any?”
“Well…” Stroking his manicured short beard, he says, “I wrecked my vehicle and don’t really have a license anyway. Not that anyone would stop me. Except I don’t have actual wheels now.”
With a chuckle, I ask, “You mean the SUV you rammed intomyshop, huh?”
“Uh, yeah.” He looks so sheepish. I almost feel bad for him.
A heavy sigh leaves my chest as I stand. “Come on, then. Let’s go get some.”
As if I just asked him to give up a kidney, he starts, eyes wide. “What? On your bike?”
Walking to the door, I nod for him to hurry. He gets up and follows. “Yeah.”
“C-can’t you get it? What do you want me to do, ride bitch?”
I ignore his panic and calmly state, “I need someone to carry the beer, yeah. And yes. Ride bitch.”
“I’m not fucking riding bitch.” But his legs keep moving as he follows me.
Not even looking at him, I kick up some gravel on the drive. “Then you don’t get beer.”
Smoothing out his hair, he protests, but continues to trail me until we hit the garage.
“Grab Ari’s helmet there.”