Beautiful Broken Mess(23)

“Hey, don’t act like you’re insulted that I’m not one of your groupies,” I add.

“Well, when we met and the second sentence out of your mouth to me was ‘I’m not sleeping with you,’ I’ll admit I was wounded,” he says, clutching his heart dramatically. “But now I love ya too much, so it’s a good thing I never actually tried to charm you.”

“Something tells me even that wouldn’t have worked,” I chuckle.

Just then, I spot Jaxon walking across the parking lot with his arm wrapped around Emerson. I slouch down in my seat, even though they’re too far off in their own world to see me. I’m honestly impressed that those two are still together. I wouldn’t have guessed that Jax had a long-term relationship bone in his body.

“Ahh… and so it begins. Is that him?” Lane has only ever seen Jace once before, so he doesn’t know how to tell them apart.

“Nope. It’s Jaxon.” My teeth grind together, because I still have some hostility toward him. “I’m hoping to hide out for the remainder of the year, and then we can hightail it out of California unscathed.”

“Good luck with that,” he teases and begins to back his car out of the parking spot. My whole body tenses up when I see him jog down the sidewalk to catch up with his brother. My eyes are glued to Jace as he runs past them, smacking Emerson’s ass in the process. She just laughs, but Jaxon takes off after him and wraps his brother in a headlock. I’d forgotten how amusing the twins were together.

“Stop, Audrey,” Lane says, breaking my trance as he drives off the lot. “Did you ever go check out those bars I told you about?”

I grin at his not-so-sly subject change. “Yeah, I applied to all of them. I actually got a call back for an interview tonight at the one that’s closest to your gym.”

“Good, I prefer that one so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Lane…” I warn, “I don’t need you scaring off every guy I meet.”

“Pick better guys,” he says simply.#p#分页标题#e#

“You scare them ALL off.”

The downside of having Lane as your best friend is how intimidating he looks and acts. He may be a whiz with numbers and calculations, but he’s far from being just a number cruncher. He religiously works out at a boxing gym and tries to get in the ring with everyone at least once. We couldn’t even move up here until he found a gym he liked because God forbid there was a small gap in training days.

A couple minutes later, we pull up in front of our new apartment. The white stucco walls and red tile roof still make me smile; this complex is beautiful and I commend Lane on a great choice. We live on the first floor, which is nice because I can let Chuck out easily and our neighbors don’t have to worry about a seventy-pound dog stomping around above them.

I walk beside Lane up to our door, but before he can push it open, a red blur comes dashing out and begins circling our legs. I scratch behind Chuck’s ears and ask him about his day.

Quickly, I run off to the bathroom to shower and get ready for my interview tonight. When I finish, I exit the steam-filled room and walk toward the kitchen in my bra and panties. I had forgotten my clothes were still in the dryer.

I hear Lane in the kitchen, pulling an assortment of vegetables out of the refrigerator. I swear he eats every thirty minutes. He’s also the health food police. Once, I brought home a package of Oreos and let’s just say… my delicious chocolate cookies went straight into the dumpster. Typically, I don’t mind though. It’s nice to eat healthy meals for a change. When I told him I basically survived off of ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches before moving to California, I think he about had a small heart attack.

He glances at me when I walk into the kitchen and does a double take. I pass right by him and walk into the laundry room to grab my clothes for tonight. With the pile in my arms, I make my way back through the kitchen.

“Doll, you know I’m not your gay best friend, right?”

“Lane, I’ve seen you with too many women to ever think that.”

“Just checking,” he smirks, while blatantly checking me out.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” I say and roll my eyes.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate the view,” he replies brazenly.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen and pull on my jeans and a white t-shirt. When I’m fully clothed again, I grin at him and turn to hunt down my own food.

“You really don’t need to work,” he says, and I know exactly where this is going. “I hate when you work the bar late at night, especially when it’s not necessary. You know I can take care of everything.”