“You’re doing a terrible job of convincing me to let you go home.”
“But despite what you’ll have people think – that you’re some kind of scoundrel – you’re really not. You wouldn’t take advantage.”
“False. I take advantage of situations all the damn time.” And to prove it, I lean closer and press my groin against her hip. “Honestly, it would take Herculean levels of willpower for me to take you to your door, but not follow you in.”
“But you would do it. Because you’re a sweetheart who hopes to one day find his one true love.”
“Stop analyzing me! Fuck.”
I push away from the wall, but I grab her hand and yank her with me so we can head toward Main Street. I twine my fingers around hers, and when that doesn’t feel like enough, I pull her in so she tucks against my side, and my arm rests on her shoulders. Her hair is at the perfect height for sniffing, and because of her position, she wraps her other arm around my hip and anchors herself to my side.
“When do you go home?” I ask.
“Now.” She rests the side of her face against my body and snuggles in. “Tired hit me real quick.”
“No, I meant home to wherever your mom lives.”
“Oh! I’ll be here till Christmas. Then I have to go back and present my paper. If I do well with that, then I’ll graduate. Then I can start on my next step toward helping people.”
“You got it all figured out, huh? Everything is laid out in a perfect line.”
“Yup.” She burps, but it’s small and dainty and smells of orange juice. “Wow. That’s embarrassing.”
I laugh and pull her closer, since the breeze is edging toward cool, and Ally’s arms and legs are exposed. “Are you here for Christmas Day?”
We turn at the end of two blocks and move onto Main Street. This is a small town, which means most places are closed by eleven. That means as we walk past storefront after storefront, everything is locked up and everyone is gone. It’s just me and Ally, and an entire stretch of street.
“Did you know my family hosts a fighting tournament in the days leading up to Christmas every year?”
“Your family?” She furrows her brows and tries to work it through her brain. “I mean, everyone knows there’s a tournament that stems from this tiny-ass town. But… wait.” She presses fingers to her temple. “I dunno. I think I knew you were involved.”
We walk past Franky’s Diner. Past the red curtains, and the booths that are older than me. “My cousin, who is sorta just a cousin because we say so, not because there’s blood relation or anything, she’s the one who started the tournament.”
“Oh! The angry guy who gave up fame and fortune for the girl. I remember now.”
“Yeah, them.” I chuckle. “So that tournament is starting on December twenty-first this year. It’s always a fun event.”
“Because you get to fight people without the risk of arrest?”
“Well, yeah. That’s a solid plus. But it’s just a fun time in general. Lots of friends, lots of socializing, lots of laughter.”
“And you’re one of those people who enjoy socializing?” She purses her lips and looks up. “Some of us find socializing to be a drain on our energy. And then there are people like you—”
“I love socializing. I must’ve gotten that from my mom, because my dad is usually one of the first to tell us to fuck off if we suggest hanging out.”
“He sounds lovely, and not at all terrifying—”
Ally jumps with a terrified squeak when a rolling whoop sounds just feet from where we are. We spin so fast that the alcohol sloshes in my brain, then cover our eyes when the flash of red and blue police lights try to blind us.
“The fuck?” I pull Ally back. It’s instinctual, protective, though I know she doesn’t need protection from whoever is in the car. “Turn your lights off, jackass.”
“You best watch your mouth, Luke Fart.”
My heart slows at the sound of Alex Turner’s voice. He’s the chief around here, the big honcho… but he’s also Uncle Alex, and his daughters and wife are like family to me.
The patrol car engine remains running, but the lights die out and allow me a moment to blink away the brightness and catch sight of not only Alex, but in the passenger seat, William Quinn; heavyweight fighter, pain in my fucking ass in my family’s tournament, bigger pain in my ass in our gym. I’m a heavyweight too, but he’s got a whole decade on me, which makes him heavier, stronger, and more patient on the mats.
“Looks to me like you guys are fixing to break the law,” Alex drawls. “I see staggering while you walk, Luke. Pretty certain that’s against court orders.”
“Nuh uh, we’re sober as nuns, Deputy Dawg. Just going for a leisurely stroll.”
“And your friend?” Will tries to lean a little to the right to catch sight of Ally. “She’s legal?”
“She’s twenty-one, and fully capable of making grownup decisions.”
“And if I were to call your mother right now?” Alex pushes, pushes, pushes, in hopes to punish me for all the times my father tormented him across the kitchen table over the years. “What would Mrs. Fart have to say about all this?”
“Honestly?” I chuckle and pull Ally closer when she tries to back away. “She’d remind me to wrap it up and mind my manners.”
Will’s brows wing up with an odd mix of surprise and admiration.
“I’m just walking her home, Uncle Alex. I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and making sure she’s safe. I swear, there will be no debauchery tonight. She already said no.”
“Oh… well…” He smiles for Ally when she pokes her head around and meets his eyes. “You said no?”
She coughs and clears her throat. “I said no. I won’t sleep with him, sir. Not if I want to keep my…” I expect her to say job, or heart, but no, she ends her sentence on “dignity,” and makes Will snort.
“Wow.” I look down and glare. “Wow! Not offensive at all.”
“You’re not driving, are you kids?”
I look back to Alex and lift a hand as though to show him the empty street. “You can’t see it? We’re sitting in it, Dawg. Did my car’s invisibility cloak actually work this time?”
“Your ass is gonna end up sitting in the tank at the station if you don’t shut your smart mouth. Ask your mom and dad about that. I’m pretty sure they’ve carved their initials into the walls in there, they’ve spent so much time in it.”
“Yeah?” I shrug. “I guess sometimes it’s hard to get me-time when you’ve got two young boys at home, ya know? They needed a minute for the romance. We shouldn’t shit on that.”
“You won’t find the romance in there, Fart. What you’ll find is a steel toilet backed up with someone else’s shit, and then you’ll have to smell it for twenty-four hours straight, or clean it. Either choice is fine by me.”
“You sure know how to kill a guy’s buzz, Deputy.” I mock-gag so well that it almost turns real. “I don’t wanna smell funky-ass shit.”