Dirty Together(9)

She yells something, but I slide my hand into my pocket and hit the Lock button before she can open it. In her drunken state, it’ll take her a few moments to figure out how to unlock the fucking thing. Thank you, Cadillac.

I turn and face Logan. “Apparently I’m at a disadvantage, because you know who I am, but I’m pretty sure Holly has never mentioned anyone named Logan.”

He crosses his bulky arms over his chest. He might have thirty pounds on me, but I’m used to sparring with Cannon. And there’s the added factor of me being riled the fuck up and defending my claim to my woman. I’m not afraid to bleed to make a point.

“I ain’t tryin’ to get between a husband and wife—” he starts.

“Then turn around and head back inside.”

He continues as if I didn’t speak. “But I also don’t believe in letting a woman I brought somewhere leave with another man.”

I flex my hands and curl them into fists. “Well, you sure as fuck aren’t leaving with her tonight. So you’re going to have to put that belief on ice.” Even in the dimly lit parking lot, I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw. “If you’re looking to stake a claim on a woman, I suggest you pick one who’s available.”

He smirks. “The only reason you had a shot at her is because I didn’t stake a claim.”

“Then you missed your shot. The next time we’re in town, I’ll buy you a beer to thank you. Right now, I’d like to get my wife home before she pukes in my rental car.” I say the word wife with undeniable emphasis and satisfaction.

“Seems to me a man with a wife like that should learn how to keep a hold on her a little better.”

The words aren’t that far off from what Boone said when he ripped me a new asshole several hours ago in Nashville.

“You better not keep doing shit that sends her running, or you’re gonna fuckin’ lose her for good,” was Boone’s redneck wisdom.

He made his point when he eyed the shotgun hanging above the front door, and when he delivered his final warning. “That girl is one of the good ones. Don’t make her cry, or I’ll be forced to step in and take action. I consider her family.”

My explanations placated him enough for him to tell me exactly where she went. Back to the small town she came from is about the last place I would have thought to look, so I owe Thrasher. But I don’t owe this asshole anything.

Logan narrows his eyes on me. “This conversation ain’t done.” He jerks his head toward the car door. “But it can wait.”

I look at the car as well, and see Holly passed out against the window. Shit.

“You know how to get to her gran’s place?” he asks, clearly deducing the problem I’m facing as soon as I do.

It’s with annoyance I admit that I don’t have a clue. He’s in the middle of giving me directions when Holly rouses and knocks on the window.

Fuck. I recognize that look. I unlock the door and pull it open just in time for Holly to lean her head out and puke on the gravel. I step around the door and gather her hair into a messy ponytail behind her head. A car door opens and shuts nearby, but I’m not paying attention to anything but Holly.

Logan reappears, crouching just out of range of the vomit as he holds a bottle of water to her lips.

Given the caveman tendencies that spring to life every time I’m around Holly, I should be pissed to see another man helping take care of her, but I’m not. I’m grateful because taking care of her is the only thing that matters right now, not the pissing contest I was engaging in. It’s amazing how simple things become when priorities are highlighted so brilliantly.

When she’s finished drinking and puking and drinking again, I smooth Holly’s hair away from her face and tuck it behind her shoulder. She sits back in the seat of the Cadillac and looks from me to Logan.

“I’m confused. And drunk.” Her gaze swings back to me. “How the hell are you here? Why?”

“I think that conversation is best saved for when you’ll actually remember what I say.”

“Good. I don’t know what to say yet . . .” Her words trail off as her eyes slide shut.

Fuck.

I snap my attention to Logan. “What the fuck did you do to her? I’ve never seen her like this.”

“She was trying to forget about you.”

His words are like a jab to my gut. I exhale sharply, physically feeling the effects of the verbal sucker punch.

“Well, that isn’t fucking happening because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your choice, man, but if a woman asks me for space, I tend to give it to her if the alternative is pushing her away by refusing to give her what she needs.”