“Nope. I just have an instinct that tells me you will find someone. Look what you did,” Kirk said, pointing the neck of his glass bottle at the landscaping. “You made a right pretty set-up for a woman you don’t even know yet. You’ll find her, and she’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Like Kong found Layla?”
Kirk’s smile fell from his face, and he stared at the sunset for a long time before he said, “Yeah. Layla is his family group, and you’ll find that, too.”
“But you’re a silverback. He always had you in his family group. He was okay until he found Layla.”
“No, Bash, I don’t belong in Kong’s family group. Two mature silverbacks in one crew? I’m registered to Kong’s Lowlanders, but we butt heads too damned much. It was an easy decision to come help the Boarlanders for this logging season. I don’t belong anywhere.”
“But someday you can find your Layla, and your chest won’t hurt anymore. Not like mine does.”
Kirk’s lips curved up in a smile, just at the very corners, but his eyes still looked sad and empty. “I hope so.”
“Well, I have an instinct, too, and it says you will. And I don’t want to hear that bullshit about you not belonging anywhere. You belong here well enough.”
Silence stretched between them as Kirk stared at him with a frown. Bash couldn’t tell what was going on in that head of his, but that was normal. Kirk was smart, and his brain worked faster. He could’ve been solving some long-ass math problem for all he knew, but then Kirk said, “Maybe I’ll put my picture up on bangaboarlander.com.”
Bash thought he was serious, but he winked and downed his beer. Funny monkey. But what Kirk said scratched at a memory. Emerson had said she’d sent a message to Bash on bangaboarlander, right before Dana-the-waitress had distracted him away from the conversation with cheese fries.
“Hey, Kirk?”
“Yeah, man?”
“Can I invite whoever I want to my party?”
“It’s your bash, Bash. Do what makes you happy.”
Emerson made him happy. With a grin, he bolted up the stairs and gladiator-kicked his tires out of the way, then stumbled over them and into the living room. He was a man on a mission now because Emerson had messaged him on bangaboarlander. Him. The prettiest girl he ever saw had found him online. He hadn’t looked at the hits on his profile because Willa from the Gray Backs had set up the site as a way to prank Clinton, but now he had a reason to check it out.
His shoes were muddy, but he would clean up the boot prints on his dark laminate wood flooring later. His heartbeat was racing again, just like it had been at the diner. He might not be able to talk about science shit with people, but he understood computers. They made sense, along with numbers, where people confused the toots out of him. It had always been that way. He could focus if he thought about numbers, and he could hack just about anything, which was how he’d taken the bangaboarlander site back from Willa. She still bitched about him stealing her fun, but Harrison had asked him to do it, and Bash would do just about anything for his alpha. Harrison never steered them wrong.
His office took up an entire third of his trailer, but that was necessary since he was in charge of all the Boarlanders’ finances. From 401ks to investments, he was proud that he was the go-to guy when it came to money questions. Or he had been until Clinton had chased off most of the damned Boarlanders. Still, as much as Clinton hated him, someday, he would thank Bash because, even though he didn’t know it yet, Bash was setting him up for life and an early retirement with the money he took from Clinton’s paycheck and invested it each month. He was taking care of Harrison and himself, too, and hopefully someday, Mason and Kirk would trust him enough with their money so he could make sure they were set up.
He bolted past the wall of filing cabinets to the computer desk. The trailer park had gone to shit in the time Clinton had been here, but Bash’s office was pristine. It had to be for him to be able to work undistracted in here.
He rolled his chair under the desk, and his fingers flew over the keyboard as he linked up to the bangaboarlander site and logged in, password: badwillawonka.
He groaned as the number of messages his page had received popped up. There were hundreds, and all under fake names.
Wetkitty
Bignips
Lickme
Geez. He squinted as he scrolled down the list. Emerson was a classy lady. She wouldn’t be one of the dirty names.
Lookingforlove
There. He poked the message and scrolled real quick to the bottom where she’d signed her name. Sure enough, it was Emerson Elliot.
Dear Sebastian,