Chapter 15

“What’s up, Jacob?” Mike Paul asked quietly. The kid was moody, and truthfully, he’d been surprised the kid had lasted this long.

Jacob shrugged and sank his hands into his front pockets but said nothing. Instead, he fixed his gaze on some interesting spot across the way, though when it was obvious Mike Paul needed an answer, he gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “This is lame.”

“Sorry, you feel that way.”

Again, Jacob shrugged. “Maybe I should just go home.”

“When you say home, you mean what?”

“Dad’s.”

Now, Mike Paul knew he couldn’t make Jacob stay, but he had to at least try. “We had a deal.”

“No, we didn’t.” Jacob straightened a bit, though he kept his eyes on the floor.

“You agreed to stay the night, and I agreed to go and see your father tomorrow after he’s had some time to cool off.”

Jacob slowly shook his head. “Talking won’t change anything.”

“Maybe not, but I still think a cooling-off period is a good idea.”

The teen stayed silent.

“Look, did you grab some of that food?” The kid gave a slight lift of his chin, which Mike Paul took as an affirmative. “I get that you’re not in the right headspace to socialize. Especially with a bunch of folks you don’t know all that well. But you can’t go home. Not yet. Let’s deal with that situation tomorrow. I can get a ride back to my place if you want to take my truck and go back now. You know where the key to the door is.”

Jacob finally looked up, his interest piqued.

“Maybe look in on the animals and let out Weiner and Bun. Can you do that for me?”

Slowly Jacob nodded. “Sure.”

Relieved, Mike Paul dug in his pocket for his truck key and handed it over. “Do not drive over the speed limit, and text me when you’re there. If I don’t hear from you within thirty minutes, I’ll be hot on your ass. Trust me on that.”

“Christ, I’ll be careful.”

“No cursing.”

“Whatever,” Jake muttered.

“Don’t forget about Weiner and Bun.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, already moving toward the mountain of coats on a table by the stage.

“Text me,” Mike Paul shouted.

Jacob ignored him, rifled through the pile, and grabbed his jacket. He left the Sundowner without a word or a look or anything. Typical teen, Mike Paul supposed, but one who was straddling a precarious line. He decided there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He’d worry about the kid tomorrow.

Besides, he had other things on his mind.

Mike Paul grabbed a beer from behind the bar. Ivy was across the room with Millie Sue, Wanda, and Scarlett. His niece was snug in her arms, and it looked like the most natural thing in the world for Ivy to be holding a baby. It tore at something inside him. Some masculine Neanderthal thing that screamed possession. Screamed, she’s mine.

Made him want to make one of his own. A baby. With Ivy.

And that thought had him taking a step back because never in his life had the thought of kids crept in. He knew he loved her. Knew that he wanted her. But kids? That was an entirely different situation.

He took a good, long pull from the bottle and then another as he considered what that meant.

Cal Bridgestone grabbed a cold one for himself and then turned to face the room. “Where’d the Clappison boy go?”

“My place.” Mike Paul had shared his suspicions of abuse earlier, so his friend knew of Jacob’s circumstances.

“That’s a tough situation.” Cal had experienced something similar growing up.

“It is.” He glanced at his friend. “You like having a kid, right?”

Cal looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had.

“Where the hell is that coming from?”

“Where do you think.”

Cal followed Mike Paul’s gaze and slowly shook his head. “You’ve got it way worse than I thought.”

“No shit.”

“This is real.” Cal sounded surprised.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Cal gave him a strange look.

“I don’t want a sermon.” Annoyed, Mike Paul took another pull from the bottle.

“Aside from the fact she’s wearing another man’s ring?—”

“If I have to hear that one more time I’m going to put another hole into the wall.”

“Can’t help it, if it’s true.”

“Come on, you know Ivy as well as I do. She doesn’t love that guy. She might think she does. But no way in hell is he the right man for her.”

“And you are.”

“Yes.” Pissed, Mike Paul glared at his oldest friend. “Why are you giving me a hard time about this? You know she and I belong together. Hell, you knew it before I did. Remember when you tried to get me to dump Bethany Michaels before prom and take Ivy?”

“This is a long way from prom. We were kids.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Mike Paul asked. “You think it doesn’t drive me fucking crazy picturing her with that guy? Thinking about his hands on her? Knowing she should be with me?”

Cal sighed and shook his head. “I’m going to say something, and it’s going to get you riled up.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Mike Paul shot back sarcastically. “I’m already there.”

Cal took another swig and picked at the label on the bottle. Then he looked Mike Paul dead in the eye. “Sometimes what you want isn’t what’s right. You need to be sure on this one. Figure out if her happiness looks better with you in the picture or if Lafferty is the one she needs.” He shrugged. “If you think Lafferty can make her happy then step back. Even if she thinks it’s you. Be the bigger man. It will be the hardest thing you ever do.” Cal’s voice dropped. “But it will be the most selfless. That’s what real love is.”

His heart sank, and it took a bit to keep his composure. “You think she’s better with him.” The words fell like stones.

“That’s not what I said.”

The anger in Mike Paul’s gut churned hard. He clamped his mouth shut so hard his jaw ached. Cal was the one person he thought would be in his corner. The one person who knew what it was like to fuck up and then want to make things right.

“Look, I love both of you guys,” Cal spoke quietly. Calmly. “It’s that simple. But this is complicated. You two have history, and now she’s with someone. Ivy is the kind of woman who needs commitment. That’s not something you’ve done before, so you need to be one thousand percent sure you’re all in. That you’re the one. The only one who can make her happy because this is our girl, our Ivy , and she deserves the world.”

It was a lightbulb moment, and his heart sank because his buddy was right. This wasn’t about his selfish needs. It was about Ivy. How could he know where her path to happiness lay? It wasn’t with Lafferty. He was sure of that. But maybe he was all wrong for her. If he fucked up, she was the one who got hurt.

“How will I know that I’m the one for her?” he whispered.

“You need to figure that out.”

“I’ve got a problem then.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m running out of time.”

Cal didn’t have a comeback for that and said nothing. He gave Mike Paul a pat on the back and headed toward his wife and son.

Mike Paul finished his beer and then grabbed another one. In a dark mood, he drifted to the men gathered near the dart board. His sister had arrived, so he didn’t need to worry about his niece, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about Ivy at the moment. His head wasn’t in the right space. For the first time in his life, he was doubting himself.

It was a novel feeling and one he didn’t care for.

Instead of dwelling on it, he spent the next two hours drinking beers he would regret, throwing darts at the board, and ignoring the woman who watched him from across the room. Ignoring the weird looks from Cal and Millie. Ignoring the burning hot ball of crap in his gut.

He tossed his last dart and hit the bullseye. He was done. The entire evening was a bust, and he needed to think.

“You okay?” Benton grabbed the dart from the board and walked back to Mike Paul. The oldest Bridgestone was like a brother to Mike Paul, and he saw the concern on the man’s face.

“I’m good,” he replied. “Gonna call it early.”

“You’re headed home?”

Mike Paul nodded. “It’s been a long day.” He made a face. “Hell, it’s been a long week, and I’ve got this kid staying with me and?—”

“You don’t need to convince me, though you’ll be in the doghouse if you don’t say goodbye to Millie Sue.” There was a warning in Benton’s tone, and Mike Paul felt like a kid again. He had been considering sneaking out through the kitchen. Dick move, but he wasn’t himself.

He snuck a look to where the women sat near the bar and then cranked his head to the left because Ivy wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“She’s in the bathroom.”

There was no point in denying who he’d been looking for.

“Can I say something?” Benton set down the dart he’d been holding.

“Why the hell not? Everyone else has. But if you’re going to tell me that I’m not good enough for her, you can save your breath. Cal’s already been clear on that point.”

“Calvin’s made his own mistakes and he’s close with Ivy. I think his viewpoint is a bit skewed.”

“Doesn’t matter. I think he’s right.”

“You know what the biggest cliché on the planet is?”

“What’s that?” He was still scanning the room and not paying attention. The way he figured it, he had about a minute to escape or chance running into Ivy.

“Life is too short. Folks use that one all the time. But here’s the thing. Clichés work because they’re rooted in fact. They make sense. Tie things up nice and easy.” Benton’s voice changed, and Mike Paul turned back to him. The man was currently embroiled in a custody battle for his young daughter.

“I’m going to tell you something that no one knows but my doctor and God. When I first came into the hospital after my accident last year, I died on the table. It was less than a minute, but I nearly left this place. Something like that makes a man think about all the mistakes he’s made. All the chances he’s missed. Makes him think about love and loss and family.” Benton took a step back. “That cliché is true. Life is too short . If you love Ivy, fight for her because regret kills. It makes a man old before his time, and it’s a cold kind of comfort, telling yourself it’s for the best because that’s bullshit.” Benton offered a wry smile. “Lay your cards on the table. Let them fall. And hope for the best. It’s not a guarantee, but at least you tried.”

Benton Bridgestone gave a slight nod and scooped up the dart. He turned to the men at the next table. “Who’s in for the next game?”

Effectively dismissed and, thanks to the Bridgestone boys, more confused than ever, Mike Paul headed for Millie Sue.

“Hey,” he said, bending down close to her ear. “I’m heading out.” She turned to him, surprised, and he kissed her cheek. “As always, it’s been great, but I’ve got an early day and a teenager to deal with, so I better get home.”

“I saw Jacob leave. Didn’t he take your truck?”

Fuck. Me. He’d forgotten that.

“I’ll call a cab.”

Millie Sue held his gaze for a few seconds and then slowly nodded. “Ivy had to take a phone call.”

“Tell her I said goodnight, and I’ll catch up with you guys sometime this week.”

Mike Paul gave a wave to the rest of the ladies and headed for the large table of coats. It felt like he was committing some kind of crime, and it took him a bit to find his jacket because he was all thumbs. He pulled it on and took exactly two steps when his insides shifted. The air changed, and his heart ramped up.

“Typical move. Ignoring me for the entire evening and then sneaking out like you’re fifteen, and we just stole two bottles of whiskey from your dad’s cabinet.”

Mike Paul knew that he could be the dick everyone thought he was and head for the door without a word. Or he could be the guy he wanted to be and face the music.

Mike Paul chose door number two.

He turned and, like always, had to take a moment. Her dress, a vibrant red silky number, clung to her body in a way that made his mouth water. It caressed hips and thighs and left more than a fair share of skin showing—most of her back and those delectable breasts. Her hair was left long and fell over bare shoulders, burnt amber waves that begged for his fingers, while her eyes, enhanced with smoky dark eyeshadow, looked mysterious. Her lips were moist and, shiny and plump.

He’d give his left hand for a taste.

But he couldn’t. At least not yet. On account of him wanting to be the better man and all.

Mike Paul gave himself a mental shake and organized his thoughts. He attempted a smile and hoped she’d let him off easy.

“I’ve got the kid back at my place and?—”

“Bullshit,” she interrupted, taking a step closer.

Her scent, this crazy warm vanilla scent that made his mouth water, danced in the air. Unfair, really, how good she smelled.

“It’s not all bull, Ivy. Jake’s in a tough spot and?—”

“He’s what, sixteen?”

“Seventeen, actually.”

“He’s a seventeen-year-old kid who is back at your place right now. Probably comfy in front of the fireplace with Weiner and Bun on his lap, watching some violent, misogynistic show he shouldn’t be watching, chugging J.D. straight from the bottle he lifted from your bar. He’s got space. Time away from his father. He’s in heaven and doesn’t want or need you right now.”

She wasn’t wrong. And yet he couldn’t stay. How was he going to explain that to her?

“Why are you leaving?” she asked before he could head her off with another lame ass excuse. “After coming in hot, you’ve ignored me for most of the night. You’re acting weird, and I don’t like it. I thought…I’m not sure what I thought, but I didn’t expect this.”

Her words came out quickly, and he clenched his hands into fists, his breath catching as his heart raced.

“Why are you leaving?” she asked again, moving closer to him.

Fucking vanilla. Why did it have to smell so good?

“I’m trying to do what’s right.” All he had was honesty at this point.

“Ignoring me is right? Acting like I’m invisible is right?” She inched closer yet, and his mind filled with wild thoughts. Things he shouldn’t be thinking of, like Ivy, naked beneath him, her mouth on his, his hands on her.

Mike Paul swore and blinked away the images. “I’m trying to be a good man here, Ivy. I’m trying to stay away. Trying not to put my hands on you. But you’re making it hard.”

Her eyes widened. And that pink tongue of hers darted out and took a delectable swipe at the corner of her mouth. She inched forward again, and he took a step back. They repeated the dance once more until they were in shadow, by the side of the stage.

“What if I don’t want you to stay away? What if I don’t want you to be a good man?” Her voice was like warm whiskey over ice.

Did she have any clue what she was doing to him? He thought of Cal and what he’d said. Then he thought of Benton and what he said. And Mike Paul realized he was screwed. Totally fucking screwed. If he got it wrong, he’d lose either way.

“I should call a cab,” he said slowly, eyes on her mouth.

“I’ll take you home,” she said slowly.

Holy. Mother. Of. God. He needed to be the good guy. The one who walked away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wilkens.”

Ivy pressed into him. Her lips hovered a whisper from his and then she leaned close to his ear. “Don’t think.”

He groaned. Or maybe moaned like an idiot. What the hell was he going to do? Mike Paul wrestled with his dilemma for all of two seconds because it was a lost cause. He was weak and drunk on her scent. He slipped his hands up either side of Ivy’s face, trapping her so she couldn’t look away. Her eyes were half closed, but they were settled on him with an intensity that damn near took his breath away. “Are you sure? We can’t go back. Not after tonight.” He barely got the words out.

A full ten seconds passed between them, though it felt like an hour. Neither one said or did anything. Then Ivy stepped back, nailed him with a look that said, don’t move, and ran for her coat. She appeared moments later, grabbed his hand, and gave him no choice.

Might not have been the smartest move, but Mike Paul wasn’t in his right mind. All he could think about was Ivy. About getting her alone. Maybe Benton Bridgestone was right. Maybe it was time to fight. Or maybe he should stop thinking and go with it.

In the end, he pushed everything away. Wordlessly he let her lead him outside. The two of them disappeared into the night and said to hell with the consequence.