Page 34 of Duke's Second Chance
Viper takes a drink of his water. “Nope.”
The door opens behind us. Duke comes out, and the light from inside spills across the porch and disappears when the door swings shut. He lowers himself down on my other side, his thigh against mine, and drapes his arm across my lap.
He tips his head back and looks at the sky. “You guys solving the world’s problems out here?”
“I’m trying to find out if Viper dances.”
“He doesn’t,” Duke says. “I’ve known him for twelve years. Never once.”
Viper lifts the water bottle in confirmation.
The three of us sit on the steps. The bass from inside vibrates the porch under us. A warm breeze moves across the lot, carrying dust and the faint smell of tar.
I look at Viper. The enforcer. The quietest man in the club. The one who shows up, does what needs to be done, and disappears. He drove into the desert to bring me home when I was kidnapped. He stood behind Duke to help rescue me, and then he pulled on gloves and handled what came next, so Duke didn’t have to.
He’s alone. Not lonely. I don’t think that’s the right word for a man like Viper.
“You know,” I say, nudging Duke’s knee with mine, “one day, Viper’s going to bring a woman to one of these things.”
Silence.
Duke turns to look at me. Then he turns to look at Viper.
Both of them laugh.
Not polite laughter. Real laughter.
“No,” Viper says.
“I’m serious.” I straighten up. “A woman is going to walk through those doors, and you’re going to lose your entire mind. And Duke and I are going to sit at this bar and enjoy every second of it.”
“Violet.” Viper looks at me, and there’s a flicker of amusement that vanishes as fast as it arrived. “Respectfully, no.”
Duke is grinning. “She’s going to be right. You know that.”
“She’s not.”
I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them. “You deserve someone, Viper. And when she shows up, you’re not going to know what hit you.”
He doesn’t answer. He finishes his water, crushes the bottle in one hand, and stands.
“Goodnight, Violet. Duke.” He pauses. “Congratulations.”
He walks down the steps and across the gravel lot, and I track his silhouette until it blends into the dark.
Duke pulls me into his side. His mouth presses to my temple. “You’re going to meddle, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“He’s going to hate that.”
“He’ll thank me later.”
Duke laughs against my hair and holds me tighter. My ring presses into his ribs where my hand rests against his chest.
I close my eyes and lean into my husband, and the Arizona night wraps around us. And I can’t imagine being anywhere else. This is home.
