Star-Crossed(93)

“They’ll look good,” Jules said confidently. “Romeo wears these and say what you will ’bout the man, he looks fine in a tight pair of designer jeans. You’ll have women crawling ya like you’re the only tree in sight after a forty-day flood.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth.” Wyatt made a gagging sound, because the idea of Jules buying him jeans because she liked the way they looked on Wellings was so wrong. He tossed them onto the bed and then wiped his hands on his shorts for good measure. “Jules, sometimes, I swear—”

She laughed, the first sign of happiness lighting up her face. “You could get a woman if you wanted one.”

“I know that.” Wyatt couldn’t help a cocky smile. “And I don’t need designer jeans pinching my best assets to do it. I have a sparkling personality.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Glaring maybe, but not sparkling.” Jules handed him another package.





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Wyatt opened the package, finding more shirts and tossed them aside with disinterest.

“You don’t like ’em?”

“I’m sure I’ll wear ’em.” Wyatt shrugged, knowing he should be more grateful. If it wasn’t for Jules shopping for him, his closet would be empty. “Thanks, Ju Ju Bean.”

“I got you something else.” Jules leaned over the bed and grabbed another package out of the bag. “Here ya go.”

The long present, wrapped in metallic blue paper, was heavier than the others and obviously not clothes, but Wyatt was already bored with Jules’s annual shopping spree.

He opened it with lackluster interest, and it wasn’t until he exposed the silver box that he felt a jolt of excitement.

He popped the latches and then opened the lid, unable to help smiling so broadly his cheeks hurt. “Dang, this is awesome.”

“Now’s probably not the best time to give you a mini fourteen assault rifle,” Jules said as she arched an eyebrow at him. “But I’d already bought it. Something fun for your collection.”

“This is fun,” he agreed, taking the rifle out of the padding and admiring it. “You wanna go to the range with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jules reached over and started refolding the shirts she’d bought him.

“I could use the stress relief.”

“Unless ya wanna use Wellings for practice instead.” Wyatt couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “I’m sure I could convince the sheriff to look the other way.”

“Funny,” Jules said, making it obvious she didn’t think he was funny at all.

Wyatt set the rifle aside and got off the bed. He grabbed her present off the dresser and tossed it on top of the shirt she was folding. “In case you change your mind.” Jules looked up at him, frowning, before she tore into the wrapping, revealing a silver case. Her eyes lit up when she opened it to expose a Colt Commander .45.



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“Wow.” She pulled it out, holding the .45 in her hand as she grinned at him. It fit easily in her palm when most women couldn’t carry a sidearm that size. Unashamed of her larger grip, she announced, “This is a gun for big girls who like to make big holes.” Jules pointed the gun at the wall, squinting out of one eye.

Wyatt watched Jules test the feel of it and pointed out, “It’s got fiber-optic sights.

Skeleton trigger.”

“I see.” Jules pulled the gun back to study it more closely. “My firearm is cooler than your firearm.”

“That’s debatable.”

Wyatt jumped back on the bed, because that assault rifle was calling to him.

Together they played with their new toys and forgot for the moment that Jules had decided to join the Conner Broken Hearts club.





* * * *





Jules left early for work, but Wyatt had the morning to goof off. He headed to the Cellar to work out, but stopped in his tracks when he spotted Romeo’s Ferrari parked next to Clay’s SUV. They were back to training this morning as if nothing had happened, and it pissed Wyatt off. One of the perks of owning his own gym was using it.

To say nothing of Clay working out with the man who’d just broken Jules’s heart and thrown a championship fight. The list of reasons why Wellings was bad news was endless, but Clay had always operated on his own terms, and Wyatt wasn’t even surprised to find the two of them back to training—angry as hell, but not surprised.

Deciding he and Clay were certainly going to have words later, Wyatt turned around in the parking lot. He’d get his workout in later by kicking the living shit out of his traitor of a best friend.

Instead Wyatt grabbed an early breakfast at Hal’s and headed home to find something to do until two, since he was working the late shift. Without the Cellar or the