1. Brandy

1

Brandy

I told my friends going on a date with a stranger was insane. Not that I was worried about being killed or kidnapped—I’d end them in a heartbeat if they tried anything—but it was more so the idea of meeting someone for the first time at an arranged time and place. That, and the fact that I had no interest in faking it through the evening with forced smiles and half-assed laughs.

Never in my life had I ever had the desire to be set up on a blind date. Honestly, I should have flaked. The guy didn’t know me, so he couldn’t judge me if I did. Besides, I couldn’t give a fuck less even if he did. No fucking way was I going to put myself out there for some random Joe Blow.

And yet.

Here I fucking sat.

The mystery man was already late, by the way. Which, given my reputation, I should have been late as well. Never wait on a man. Make them wait on you.

But again, here I fucking sat.

My hand was fisted around the butter knife that had been gleaming on the table when I arrived. The base of the handle tapped against the surface as my impatience grew, grating on every nerve. The act itself was most likely why the waitress hadn’t come to ask for my drink order yet—which, rude .

I had no idea why I agreed to this in the first place. All of my best friends were deranged. Maybe not literally, but at this moment, I was starting to believe it. Oakley and Lettie were all high on Sage being pregnant, so of course they wanted me to go on a date with someone. Well, sorry to inform them—not everyone needs to be in a relationship, especially not after how my last one went months ago. Although, that didn't get past the first date, so it didn't really count.

I was beyond fine on my own.

My back was to the door, and I didn’t bother turning around to possibly catch a glimpse of the mystery man, if I’d even know it was him, walking through the door. For all I knew, he stood me up and I sat here looking like an idiot.

A hand grabbed the back of the chair across from me, pulling it out so he could slide in.

He, as in Reed motherfucking Bronson.

My best friend’s older brother who I hated with every fiber of my being.

Still clutching the knife, I glared at him in his typical black cowboy hat and light blue button-up shirt. The fabric even had little diamonds stitched into it. How fucking fancy. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Reed leaned back in the chair he’d planted his annoyingly plump ass in, eyeing me. “Whatchya doing here alone?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“I see your date arrived,” the waitress, who finally decided to show up, said to me. Her glowing smile pissed me off all the more. And the way her cleavage was even more on display than when I’d first seen her, likely showing off the twins for the man unfortunate enough to be sitting across from me. Butter knives may be dull, but they can cause the right amount of damage if you use them properly.

“Not my date,” Reed and I replied in unison.

He cocked a brow at me. “You’re here for a date, too?”

I rolled my eyes. He was toying with me.

Ignoring his question, I asked the waitress, “Can I get a shot of tequila and the bill, please?” She nodded, but before she could turn to Reed, I added, “Make it a double.”

“And for you, sir?” she asked.

“He’s not dining here tonight,” I answered for him.

“She’ll take a single, and nothing for me. Thank you,” he said.

“Double,” I retorted.

He narrowed his eyes at me, his tattooed arms coming to rest on the table as he leaned forward. I nearly scoffed at the way his sleeves were neatly rolled to his elbows. “Single. How are you going to drive yourself home after a double?”

I pasted on the fakest polite smile as I looked up at the waitress. “Please excuse Satan over here. He’s always a bit disoriented when he comes into town.” I raised my hand to my mouth, poorly blocking my whisper from Reed. “He’s pretty inexperienced.”

Reed frowned as he clearly heard my words.

Good . That was my intention.

The waitress darted her eyes between the two of us, but finally got the right idea to walk away, heading straight for the bar. At least she was smart—I’d need that shot and then to get the fuck out of here.

Reed was silent a moment, glancing at my hand still wrapped around the butter knife. “Lettie send you here?”

I did a double take, the realization hitting me. “If this is you trying to interrupt my blind date, you can leave.”

He reached forward, gently plucking the knife from my fist, then set it the farthest he could away from me. “ I’m your blind date.”

It was a good thing he’d taken the butter knife. There was no telling what I’d do now.

I found the waitress on her way back with the shot, but I didn’t bother waiting for her to reach the table. Standing up, I fished a ten out of the pocket in my jeans as I met her halfway. That’s right—jeans. I hadn’t dressed up for this, and now I was extremely grateful for that. I grabbed the shot from her, setting the bill in her hand as I downed it, then placed the empty glass on top. “Thanks so much.”

Then I beelined for the door.

“Brandy,” Reed gruffly called out from somewhere behind me.

I ignored him.

No fucking way was I staying here a moment longer.

I had a bone to pick with my best friend.

As soon as I was out the doors and the cool night air chilled my flaming skin, I shot Lettie a text in the group chat.

Real fucking funny guys.

Lettie What’s funny?

Oakley *laughing face*

Sage Oh she’s mad, she used a period

Lettie Omg, he showed up

Fucking Reed?! Seriously? Do you guys hate me?

Sage We love you

Sage But do you mean fucking Reed as in you slept with him or like you're mad mad

Oakley Did anyone record you stabbing him?

He didn’t let me get that far. And fuck no I didn't sleep with him

Lettie Are you dating my brother now?!

Not unless he was the last man on this planet. And even then, I’d rather die alone

Sage Can you pleeease tell us why

Oakley I will beg on my knees if I need to

Lettie We just have to get a shot or two in her and she’ll spill

I set my phone on Do Not Disturb, shoved it in my jeans, and pulled my key out of my pocket, inserting it into the handle on my ‘69 Bronco. I was gentle—the car didn’t deserve my rage.

The night Reed practically ruined my life was for no one to know but the two of us and those who were involved. Because of course, there were witnesses. Nothing in my life ever went under the radar, aside from what shouldn’t.

My foot eased on the clutch as I put the car into reverse, pulled out of my parking spot, then shifted into first. I was not about to stick around to wait for Reed to come out of that restaurant to tell me off. The man was good at nitpicking everything I did.

Sure, I probably shouldn’t have downed a double shot of tequila and then gotten in my car, but to be fair, I’d eaten before my date because I didn’t want to spend the whole night here with whoever showed up. Because of my pre-date meal that consisted of cold pizza, the alcohol wouldn’t hit as hard, and I wasn’t starving and angry.

I was just plain angry. With a full fucking stomach.

After ten minutes on the road, a white stream of smoke billowed out from under the orange hood, pulling my attention away from the street.

Just my fucking luck.

Of all the times my friends kept telling me to get a reliable daily driver and to stop driving this antique everywhere, this was the one instance I was kicking myself for not listening to them. Was it the smartest idea to drive a fifty-plus-year-old vehicle every day? No. But I loved this car like it was my baby. There was no way I would replace it.

Thankfully something went in my favor and I was able to pull the Bronco to the side of the road before it completely crapped out on me. I shifted into first and pulled the e-brake, then killed the engine. After getting out, I lifted the hood to check to see if whatever was causing the issue might be a quick fix. Given the gaping hole in my radiator that stared up at me, this would take more than just putting two pieces back together.

“Out of all the nights, tonight was the night you chose to overheat?” I asked it, pure annoyance ringing clear in my tone. I was talking to my fucking car . “It’s not even hot tonight!”

Heaving a sigh, I shut the hood, then pulled my phone out to shoot Lettie a text.

Can you come pick me up? Bronco took a shit

Lettie Reed can’t give you a ride? ;)

I glared at the screen as if she could see it, then pulled up Callan’s contact. Lettie’s older brother was like a brother to me—they all were, aside from one particular asshole—and he always helped when I needed it most.

Any chance you’re able to come pick me up from the side of the road?

I waited for a response, leaning a hip against the front of the car. My phone dinged, but before I could check the text, headlights blinded me from the road as the vehicle pulled off behind my Bronco.

Their headlights stayed on, but as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the vehicle.

I couldn’t miss it if I tried.

It was the last fucking truck I wanted to see right now.

Tonight clearly wasn’t going to get any fucking better.