‘Seriously, my old ball and chain …’ Darren shook his head. ‘Fucking on my ass, dude. All the fucking time. About everything. What about your old lady? She try to tell you what to fucking do every single second?’
Brandon’s phone hummed from his pocket with a reminder of Leah’s earlier text messages. ‘Yeah. Pretty much.’
‘Dude,’ said Darren.
‘Dickweed,’ Brandon answered.
And though most of the guys razzed him when he got up after a single beer and a dozen wings, Brandon only grinned and refused to let them rile him. He was going home to get laid. The rest of them were probably going to spend the night with Mary Palm and her five sisters.
‘Later, guys.’
He headed out into the dark parking lot, his collar turned up against the cold that at least had kept the groceries in his trunk fresh. He came up alongside a guy leaning against the brick wall in front of where Brandon had parked. Guy was peeing, the splash of urine loud in the night air.
Gross.
‘Hey …’ The man turned, his eyes going wide as he tucked his dick back in his pants.
It was Mike, Leah’s ex. Brandon had thought they were done with that douche, who’d finally stopped calling her about a month after Leah and Brandon got together. Now here he was, a pimple that needed squeezing.
‘Dude,’ Brandon said. ‘Go away.’
Mike sneered. ‘Saw your engagement announcement in the paper.’
‘You’re not invited.’
Mike put a hand over his heart. ‘Oh, I’m hurt.’
Brandon shook his head. He didn’t have time for this jerk. He had a hopefully horny fiancée waiting for him at home. Thinking about it again – the fact she had, indeed, agreed to marry him, that Leah would be his wife in just a few short months – Brandon let out a soft chuckle.
‘You laughing at me, you prick?’
Shit. The guy just wouldn’t let it rest. Brandon turned again. ‘No, man. Look, I know you were carrying a torch and all that and, believe me, I get it. If I’d been stupid enough to let Leah get away from me, I’d be pretty pissed off at myself, too. But you have to back off.’
‘Let her get away?’ Mike coughed. ‘Right. Like I wasn’t finished with that bitch?’
Brandon had opened the driver’s door but now paused, a hand on it. His shoulders straightened. His teeth gritted. He let go of the door and turned around, and Mike, that stupid fuck, didn’t even have the sense to back up.
‘Don’t call her that,’ Brandon said evenly, but through a clenched jaw. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your shit. Get the hell away from me.’
‘Or else what?’ Mike’s eyes shifted from side to side, and he bounced a little. ‘What’s the big boy gonna do? Whatcha gonna do … boy?’
The emphasis he put on the last word forced a hiss of breath from Brandon’s lips. He didn’t give a damn what Mike thought of him, his age, his relationship with Leah, none of that. All he wanted was the guy to get out of the way so Brandon could get in his car and get home to her. But Mike had never proven himself to be particularly smart when it came to knowing when to give it up. Leah didn’t talk about him much. Brandon got the idea she was ashamed at having dated him at all, much less lived with him, and, if there was only one thing in the world Brandon thought Leah should fault herself for, it was that. But hell, it wasn’t like he’d never made any dating mistakes. Crissy came to mind every so often, and he always winced at the memory.
Now, though, Brandon stared hard at the other man. ‘Back off.’
‘Ooh. Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?’
Brandon shook his head. ‘No. I’m … advising you.’
Mike’s lip curled back from his teeth. In his seven-hundred dollar suit, his hair carefully combed back from his face, he looked every inch the successful business man – except for the crazy in his gaze. He tugged at the knot of the tie at his throat, then shook his head to toss back a stray hair that had come loose from the gel.
‘Fuck you,’ Mike said.
Brandon put his keys in his pocket and closed the door to his car. ‘Seriously. Back. Off.’
Mike drew in a long, snorting gasp and spit a huge, disgusting loogy onto Brandon’s left shoe. ‘Or what?’
Shit. Leah had bought him these shoes, and they were nice. Brandon frowned.
‘Why are you doing this? Seriously. Do you want to get your ass handed to you? I mean … really? Haven’t we, like, had this same conversation a few times already? I’m pretty sure it ended bad for you before.’
‘She won’t marry you,’ Mike said. ‘You know that, right? Leah won’t ever get married. It’s not in her to do it.’
The slow simmer of anger roiled to a boil at Mike’s words. That the prick thought he’d been close enough with her to think he knew what the fuck he was talking about made Brandon want to strangle him. That he might be right made him want to kick the bastard in the teeth.
But, even though Brandon knew he could reach out a fist and grab the guy by the throat and shake the breath out of him, he didn’t do it. Instead he pulled a handful of tissues from his pocket and bent to wipe off the already congealing spittle from his shoe. Then he stood, the crumpled, snot-smeared tissues in one hand, and tucked the mess into Mike’s breast pocket.
‘She’ll marry me.’
Mike punched him in the face. Brandon saw it coming but didn’t have
