9. Edu

9

EDU

"If you clench that glass any harder, it's going to break," Brock chuckled.

I instantly released it, unaware that I had been strangling it. I really wanted to wrap my hands around Harper's throat and…

Well, I wasn't sure at this point what I wanted to do. My body was reacting to her in a way that it hadn't to anyone else in months. And that was a bad thing. With any other woman, it would be fine, but Harper had a weird obsession with me. When she started telling the guys about her daydream, I had to yank her away from the table. Their ears couldn't handle what she was about to say.

And if my ears heard her finish that thought, I would bury my cock inside her against the wall, consequences be damned.

"Why don't you go for it?" he asked.

"Because she's got some weird obsession with me."

"Yeah, that's a bad thing," he said mockingly.

"It is when she daydreams about me in the middle of the grocery store."

"How hard it must be for you. All these women literally fall at your feet and you have a problem with that. "

"You're misusing the word literally," Fox piped up. "Nobody has literally fallen at his feet."

"He's right. She only spaces out," I added.

"Still, what are you waiting for? She's a sure thing."

"So is a bullet to the head if you put a gun against it."

"Not if it's unloaded," Scottie grinned.

These guys were pissing me off. "Lock, you get it."

"I do. Edu's not ready for a woman like that."

"Exactly," I said, frowning as I took in his words. "What?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious. She's too good for you."

"In what way?" I was offended by that. I was a good catch.

He looked me up and down, then grinned. "You're stunted."

I covered my dick, feeling very judged. "I am not. You've seen for yourself."

"Emotionally," he said, eyeing me skeptically. "But if you feel there are other issues?—"

"There aren't," I snapped. "And I'm not emotionally stunted just because I don't want a stalker coming after me."

"She's not a stalker," Fox said, repeating the same shit he did in the grocery store. "As she said, you showed up at her place of work."

"Well…she showed up here."

"Yes, a local bar," Scottie mocked. "Can you believe the nerve of her?"

As the guys all laughed at me, my eyes unintentionally flicked back to her table. Her toe was dangling at the tip of her shoe, just barely holding it in place. Her long legs ate up the space between the top of the stool and the ground below. I would never have guessed from her attire at the store that she had such an amazing body hidden under those ugly clothes, but here she was, looking so fucking sexy that I had a hard time tearing my eyes away.

"What you need is to build a fire," I caught Scottie saying.

"Would you stop it with the fire?" Lock huffed. "Not everyone wants to build a fire. That analogy is getting old."

"It's never old," he argued.

"I'm not building a fucking fire. That's the last thing I want."

"See?" Lock grinned at him. "He doesn't want to build a fire. "

"Why not? She's hot."

"Because I'm not a fire kind of a guy. I just want…a match."

Fox frowned at me. "Like, a dating website?"

"No, like an instant fire."

"A grenade," Scottie grinned. "Not the way I'd go, but?—"

"No, quick to explode and the fire goes out quickly."

Lock was the only one who seemed to understand me, but that made sense considering he was the only one who knew about the terrible example my parents set for me. He swallowed his beer and glared at the guys.

"Let it go. He's not interested in a woman like her."

I wouldn't exactly say I wasn't interested, but not for the purposes a woman like her would expect. "She's a woman who wants more," I explained.

"What is it with all of you?" Fox asked. "Every single one of you was so exasperated by the idea of any woman getting her hooks in you. I relished in the feel of Anna falling under my spell."

"You waited long enough," I muttered under my breath.

"You're gonna end up alone and sad," Brock said with a shake of his head. "Even I wasn't stupid enough to ignore the fact that Wren was the one for me."

I pointed at the table just a few feet away where Harper was dangling her toes enticingly. "She's not the one for me. Hell, she's not even close!"

"Then why do you keep looking over there?" Scottie asked.

"Because you're talking about her!"

"Yeah, but your eyes linger."

"I looked. I didn't linger."

Scottie winced. "It was longer than one Mississippi. That's lingering."

"Actually," Brock cut in. "I think it's one and a half Mississippis that makes it lingering."

"No, it's definitely only one," Lock agreed with Scottie. "Any more than that, and it's considered leering."

"Personally, I think it should be three Mississippis," Fox said, taking a swig of his beer. "Women linger for longer than that and it's not considered staring."

"Yeah, but with men, it's different," I said.

"Why?"

"Because we have more obvious things to stare at."

Scottie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You mean like earlier when you were at the bar with her and your eyes strayed to her breasts?"

He had seen that?

"Yeah, it was pretty fucking obvious," Brock chortled. "That was definitely more than one Mississippi. I would go so far as to say that was at least four."

"And you say you don't like her," Scottie chuckled.

"I didn't say I didn't like her?—"

"Ah!" Brock pointed at me. "He admits it!"

I rolled my eyes. This was getting out of control way too fast. "Liking the way she looks is not the same as wanting to sleep with her."

"I beg to differ," Lock sighed.

"You always differ. I can appreciate her figure without sleeping with her."

"Why?"

"Because appreciating her form does not lead to unwanted attachments."

"Then you'd better look again," Scottie said, nodding to her table.

I made the mistake of looking over at her. She was making eyes at me as she drank her margarita. Her breasts were pushed up as she rested her chest against her crossed arms. Her finger played with the straw in her drink and her toe bounced lightly until her shoe slipped to the ground.

I swallowed hard, watching as she took a long sip, then turned toward me, stepping down from the stool. Her creamy skin stretched as her toe just barely touched the dirty bar floor. I was on my feet before I could make sense of what I was doing, bending down to put her shoe on her foot. I didn't need to look up into her eyes to see the vital mistake I had just made .

I was down on my knees in front of this woman, slipping a shoe on her foot. What a fucking mistake. My eyes slowly drifted up to hers, and I could see the far-off look on her face. She was already imagining I was her Prince Charming.

"Fucking hell."

With a grunt, I got to my feet and stormed out of the bar, not stopping until I reached my truck. I was peeling out of the parking lot when I finally looked in the rearview mirror and saw the guys laughing at me from the doorway.

I was never going to live this down.

I wrapped the towel around my neck as I stepped out of the shower and headed to my locker. Training had kicked my ass today, but I was pushing myself harder because of the lack of jobs. I didn't want to get out of shape during the downtime. Yanking my locker open, I heard the laughter before I fully took in the state of the contents inside.

Blue glitter flew out at my face as a music box started playing music from that Disney movie. I closed my eyes, spitting the offending paper from my mouth. Inside, a single silver high-heeled shoe sat on the shelf with an invitation to a ball. Sighing, I yanked the crap from my locker and tossed it in the garbage, but it seemed like the glitter was everywhere. I was going to have to take another shower, but I definitely wasn't doing that here.

Slamming the door, I glared at Brock and Scottie. "Yeah, that was really fucking funny."

They laughed even harder, leaning on each other for support as tears streamed down their faces. I didn't mind being the butt of a joke. It was a natural progression of life, but this time, it really grated on me because of who they were teasing me over.

"Man, you should have seen your face," Scottie laughed.

"Yeah, almost as funny as when I look at you when you're about to vomit," I retorted.

He immediately stopped laughing. "Hey, that's not funny. It's an affliction. "

"Yeah, for the rest of us, too," I retorted. "Remember, we have to deal with the smell."

"It is pretty bad," Brock nodded, then snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, almost as bad as watching you comb your hair twenty times a day," Scottie snapped.

"Ooh, good one. Make fun of my hair. You wound me," he said, holding his hand over his heart. "You forget that I don't care."

"This is about him," Scottie thrust a finger at me. "We're making fun of him."

"Right," Brock nodded, turning back to me with a grin. "So, are you gonna see her today?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Uh…because you're in love with her?" Scottie said, a mixture of confusion and laughter on his face. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Only to you because you see love everywhere you go."

I quickly got dressed, ignoring the glitter that clung to my body. I would shower when I got home and probably throw out these clothes. I didn't see another way to get rid of it.

"What do you have against love?" Brock asked. "Seriously, I just don't get it."

"It's fine for you," I muttered. "Excuse me if I don't want to hand over my ass to a woman." I turned a glare on him. "Or take three bullets to the chest for love."

"Worth every second of pain," he grinned. Then he pulled out an envelope from his pocket, handing it over to me. "You'll see at the wedding."

I stared at the white envelope in shock. He was getting married? "Why?"

"Why will you see? Well, when two people really love each other and choose to devote themselves to each other?—"

"No, I mean, why would you get married? It hasn't even been that long. Look at what happened to Rafe!"

"You think I shouldn't get married because Rafe is dead?"

"No, I mean, look at what marriage did to Libby. She's a fucking wreck."

He nodded slowly, staring at me like I was crazy. "Yes, because Rafe is a fucking douche who lied to her and didn't tell her his dastardly plans." Then he added. "May he rest in peace."

"And you really think it'll be any different for you? There has to be something you're hiding from Wren."

His brows furrowed as he thought about it. "You know, you're right."

"See?"

"I didn't tell her that I prefer Wheaties to her soufflé for breakfast. I should probably tell her that so she can stop making a mess of the kitchen."

I rolled my eyes at his comment. "Seriously, this will end badly." I grabbed the invitation from him, shaking it in his face. "All marriages are doomed to fail."

"Not all," Scottie said. "It's actually something like forty to fifty percent. Worse if it's the second marriage, but luckily, the only person here who's been divorced is Nicholas. And he's not married yet. Fingers crossed for him," Scottie grinned.

"The point is, you're setting yourself up for failure. Why not wait a little longer and see how things go?"

Brock nodded at me. "Right. I could totally tell her that. Wren, I love you, but I want to see how things go for the next few years. You know, in case I decide I no longer like you and want a divorce. Yeah, I can see that going well."

None of them got it. Not a single man around here—or woman, for that matter—understood just how stupid it was to tie yourself to a single person. That's why I never dated. All women thought that if they went on one date, it would turn into two, and then three. And soon, wedding bells were playing in their minds, wedding magazines appeared on the coffee tables, and questions about the perfect date were the topic of conversation.

Well, that wasn't going to happen to me. The day I let a woman have that much power over me would be the day I decided to turn in my gun and badge— Metaphorically speaking. I didn't actually have a badge. — and become a rockstar. And that wasn't very likely to happen. I already knew that.

"You're so cynical," Brock said, not an ounce of teasing in his voice. " You know, I feel bad for you. I didn't realize how much you were against relationships until now. You're going to end up alone, my friend."

"That's sort of the point."

"And while the rest of us are watching our fires flare to life and become wildfires, you're going to be staring at your twigs—unlit and wet," Scottie shook his head.

"Unlit and wet?"

"Because you have no flames going," he reiterated. "You know, it's like your twigs won't light because you peed on them or something."

"Why wouldn't they just be wet because it rained?"

He growled in frustration. "It was a metaphor."

"Yeah, your metaphors are fucking creepy," I said, slapping him on the back as I shoved past him. "Sorry, but I don't need a forest fire, or whatever the hell you think you have going with Quinn. Where is she, anyway?"

"She's on a job in Yellowstone," he bit out.

"And you're okay with that," I jeered. "Watching her leave to pursue her job while you stay home. Isn't she pregnant?"

"What's your problem?" he ground out. "Because you don't want to be happy, you have to try and make everyone else miserable?"

It was the first time I'd seen Scottie truly angry, and I thought for just a minute that I'd pushed too far.

"I happen to love and support my wife. She's a fucking geologist. She travels for work to study…rocks and shit. I'm happy for her. And when we have our kid, I'll be home watching the thing, terrified that I'm about to smother it to death on accident. Or knock his head into a wall as I carry him around the house. I—" He gasped for air, bending over as panic took over.

I hadn't meant to freak him out, but that was the end result. "Hey, it's gonna be fine. I'm sure you'll figure it out. How hard can it be to take care of one tiny human? I mean…people have been doing it since the beginning of time, right?"

It was total bullshit. Just like him, the thought of caring for another human being—especially one as tiny as a football—really fucking freaked me out. I doubted there would ever be a time I didn't think of the prospect with fear. Yet another reason I wouldn't be getting married.

He stood up, taking a deep breath. "Thanks, man. I kinda…I kinda lost it there."

Like the good friend I was, I grinned at him. "Really? Nah. Totally normal."

"Yeah?"

"Completely. In fact, I bet Quinn is more nervous about this than you are."

"Yeah," he agreed as we walked out of the locker room. "She's the one who has to shove a baby out of her vagina."

I laughed, but internally cringed. I never wanted to think about a woman's pussy stretching that far. It was meant for pleasure and nothing else. But because I wasn't a complete asshole, I pretended that this whole fucking thing was normal.

But we both knew none of it was.