Page 8 of Broken
He gives me a sly grin. “It’s a damned good start.”
“How would lovely Sadie feel about you going with me to the Dusty Rose?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Maybe it isn’t. “She’ll come along, of course. My girl can dance up a storm.”
I roll my eyes. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He flicks the pan and flips all six eggs at once.
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
“When your mother’s busy wooing husbands, you learn to fend for yourself.” Miles pulls two plates out of the cupboard and grabs the bread that has popped out of the toaster. “Where’s the butter?”
“Up your ass.” I shake my head. “In the fridge, where it’s been since you got here.”
“Ha. You’re funny. I’ll say it a third time.”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I know. I need to get laid.” I draw in a breath. Miles’s eggs and toast smell good. Like home. “You know what? The Dusty Rose sounds like a plan. Better yet, what about that bar where you and Sadie met?”
“Not a bad alternative, but have you forgotten? It’s ladies’ night again at the Rose.”
Ladies night—when the drinks are discounted and the pussy is plentiful.
I’ll go. I’ll go and tie one on.
But I won’t end up in bed with anyone.
Not tonight. Not when Avery Marsh is mere miles away.
And not when I’m still fucking in love with her.
3
AVERY
I’m notsure how long I sat in my car before I finally turned on the ignition and drove away from Bridger Ranch.
It’s crazy how much my body still reacts to Chance.
I never felt this with Tyler or anyone else.
I sigh. Tyler. Tyler Lipscomb is a wonderful man, and he was willing to take me with all my baggage. Until the day he wasn’t.
You don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, Avery.
I do, Ty.
You don’t. You want to. Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself that you do, but you don’t.
You’re wrong. I love you.
I believe that, but not the way I love you. You love what I represent for you and your family. But you don’t want me for me.
I wept as I removed the diamond solitaire from my left ring finger and placed it in the palm of his hand.
It was fruitless to argue further. He was right, and we both knew it.
I drive into Bayfield proper and stop at the local police station. They’ve allowed my partner, Roy Jarvis, and me to set up shop in an empty corner. The sheriff, Trevor Bryant, was very welcoming. Detective Mark Peterson? Not so much.
