Page 3 of Property of Gray

And that someone isn’t me.

“Best way to get over a man is to get under a new one,” the prospect tells me.

“You offering?” I laugh devoid of humor.

“If I was your man, Low. You’d never have to wonder where you stand with me.”

“What?”

“Fuck Gray. You’re too good for him. He’s never deserved you.”

“And you think you do?”

He shoots me a sheepish grin. I’ve never known him to be shy a day in his life. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. “No. But, babe. I’d damn sure love to try.”

I shake my head and take his offered hand.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

I follow him back to the front of the clubhouse.

Gray is standing by my truck. “Can we talk?”

Foolish is polite enough to step back to give me a moment, but there’s no need. There’s nothing left for Gray to say.

“Foolish. Tell your VP I have nothing to say to him.”

“Don’t be a brat.” Gray grabs my wrist, pressing his thumb to my pulse point.

“Don’t touch me.” I glare at him, and there’s something in his eyes that almost makes me falter in my resolve. A glimmer of hope or sadness, but whatever it is, it isn’t enough. “I would wish you the best, but honestly, I hope the two of you are miserable.” I jerk out of his grasp as he hangs his head, looking almost as though he’s ashamed.

I turn and lean into Foolish, wrapping my arms around his tattooed neck and planting my lips on his. I don’t wait for permission. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, taking all my anger and twisting it into desire.

Foolish grips the back of my head with one hand and squeezes my ass with the other, returning my kiss, giving as good as he’s getting.

So what if I don’t particularly like him? Grannie Mags has always said you can learn to love anyone.

But right now, I don’t care about love. I don’t want to feel anything. I want to get lost.

I want to forget that I ever cared about Braxton Gray.

Chapter Two

Two weeks ago

“Got damn. Got damn,” Foolish repeats and hands me the joint we’ve been passing back and forth for the past ten minutes.

“What are you losing your shit about? You think you see Bigfoot or some shit?” I take a hard drag. The smoke curls through my lungs in a thick cloud. Wouldn’t be the first time Baby Doll’s Bush has caused a brother to hallucinate. Crazy bitch grows some potent shit out in Oregon.

“Not this time. I’m talking about that ass.” He hits my chest and motions across the backyard to the other side of the firepit where some sweet piece is bent over one of the galvanized tanks serving as a cooler, fishing out a beer. “Who is that?”

“I’m about to find out.” I plug the joint between my lips and stumble out of my lawn chair toward the daisy dukes that are hugging that fine as fuck derriere. “Can I get one of those?” I slap the chick on the ass.

She jerks upright and turns around, holding out a beer. Willow smirks at me and my heart drops to my fucking feet. The jointfalls out of my mouth. I just smacked Woods’ sister’s ass. I glance around to see if he’s around.

“What was that for?” She extends an arm, waiting for me to accept the dripping can.

I swallow hard. “Thought you were someone else. Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I grin and swipe the can from her hand. Her soft fingers brush my rough ones.