Page 84 of Pretty Little Scars
“Um,” Ivy frowns and bites her lip. “It’s Ivy. But it’s been a long time. Good to see you, Xander. The game the other night was great.”
She rubs her hands down her jeans and turns to the rest of us. “Anyone need anything else?”
“This is great, thanks,” Ava says with a smile, and Ivy returns to the bar. Ava rounds on Xander. “You’ve taken one too many hits to the head, X. You have the memory of a goldfish.”
“You’re probably right,” he mutters. “Hey, I tried.”
I notice Darby returning from the bathroom when a guy approaches her. They’re close enough that I can hear them.
Our crowd goes quiet as we watch.
“Hey, are you interested in a game of pool?”
I’m on guard, listening, but I know she doesn’t need me. My girl can handle herself.
“No thanks, I’m with some people,” Darby says with a polite smile, but before she can turn to walk over to me, this asshole grabs her arm.
And Darby sees fucking red.
“You’re going to want to take your hand off me. I don’t like being touched.”
She’s not freaking out or having a panic attack. She’s a fucking badass.
“You’ll like it whenItouch you,” he replies, and Blake moves to stand, but I hold my hand up and shake my head.
“She’s got this.”
“No.” Darby steps away, knocking his hand off. “I won’t. Go drink your beer, Bruce.”
“Hey, how did you know my name?”
“I don’t. You just look like a Bruce. And for future reference, if a woman says no, they mean it. There’s no charming your way into her pants after thatno.”
She walks my way, and I’m grinning at her, so fucking proud of her.
Bruce just shrugs and goes back to his friends.
“Men suck,” Easton says, chalking the end of his pool cue. “They really do.”
“Not all men,” Ava says. “But yeah, some do. I know that guy. Designed his house for hiswife.”
“Ew,” Darby says, scrunching up her nose. “Gross.”
Xander keeps looking toward the bar, and this time when Ivy walks our way, he pulls her to the side, where we can’t hear him, and says something in her ear.
Ivy smiles and bites her lip, then nods. She pats his shoulder before going on about her work, and Xander looks more at ease when he returns to our group.
“She looks happier,” I say.
“I owed her an apology,” Xander says. “I’m not a jerk. I still can’t place her, but if I’ve known her since we were kids ... yeah, I needed to say I was sorry.”
“You’re a good one, Xander Hendrix,” Harper says. “And one of my favorite brothers.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DARBY
“You need a kitten.”
