“I can’t just leave him, Colt. Not like this.” Josie had on a brave face, but her bottom lip looked close to quivering. She’d never been a fan of blood, especially when it came to me spilling mine or someone else’s.

“That’s exactly the kind of guy you leave behind.”

I might have been beat to a pulp, but I didn’t like what Colt was implying.

Crossing her arms, her eyes narrowed at him the way I was used to seeing directed my way. “Not to me.”

“You’re actually going to stay behind with this loser?”

Most days, I tried to convince myself I didn’t like Josie Gibson, and some days I failed. That was one of those failure days. I propped up onto my elbows. I didn’t want to admit it, but that small movement hurt like hell. Colt had done a number on me. “If I’m a loser, what does that make you? Oh, wait. Never mind. There hasn’t been a word created for that yet. Colt Mason is all we’ve got to sum up what a good-for-nothing prick your kind is.”

Colt’s fists balled, but Brandy and her shotgun kept him from coming at me again. “Just what kind am I? The kind who doesn’t go home to a dad who’s the town drunk? The kind who doesn’t live in a ramshackle trailer that should have been condemned two decades ago? The kind who only has friends like Josie and Jesse Walker because they pity you? If that’s the kind I’m not, then I’m good with that.”

I kept my face blank. I went to that place within myself that was always angry at the world because when I was good and burrowed down in that place, I didn’t feel anything. Least of all the words coming from the mouth of the jackass in front of me.

Colt shook his head at me—sprawled out, broken, swollen, and bleeding—and the look he gave me almost brought me to my feet with both arms swinging. That look, a mixture of pity and disgust, far outdid his words. I didn’t take well to people pitying me. Despite Colt saying Jesse and Josie only hung around because they pitied me, that was bullshit. Jesse and Josie and I had history. We’d bled through life together. When people shared the kind of ups and downs the three of us had, the common denominator wasn’t pity—it was loyalty. But Colt Mason was looking at me with true pity. If I didn’t feel like I’d just been stampeded by a herd of cattle, I would have beaten his ass until he’d never even consider looking at me that way again.

“I’ll call you later, Josie. Once you’re done doing your good deed of the day.” Colt stalled for a second in the doorway, probably waiting for Josie to hustle up beside him. Unlike me, he didn’t have fifteen years of experience with Josie Gibson’s unparalleled stubbornness. That girl wasn’t going anywhere until she was good and ready.

“Night, Princess. Same time next week?” I called after him as he charged out of the bar. Good fucking riddance.

“Next time you do that in my place of business, I’m aiming this here barrel between your eyes. I don’t care how dark and brooding and sexy they are, you hear me?” Brandy’s face hovered above mine and she lifted an eyebrow.

I answered her with a weak salute. Brandy was back to the customers and the customers were back to their drinks when Josie kneeled beside me.

“What am I going to do with you, Garth Black?” She sighed, her forehead lining as she inspected my face.

“I’ve got plenty of answers for that question, Joze.”

“Mind wowing me with that plethora of answers?”

A girl who knew the word “plethora” should not be allowed to date a guy who’d only graduated high school because his daddy offered to foot the bill for a new football field.

“I would, but I’m afraid I’ll get slapped if I give you any of those answers, and I’m not sure how much more my face can take tonight.”

Josie sighed again, not quite as long as the first. “Sure, now you decide to keep your mouth closed. That would have come in real handy five minutes ago when Colt Mason came at you with his fists.”

I let Josie help me up. Even with her help, by the time I stood, I was feeling enough pain to know I was close to blacking out. It had happened before, but it had been a while. And damn it all to hell, Colt Mason hadn’t only broken my nose. I was pretty sure he’d cracked a couple of ribs, too. “You and I both know if I was interested in fighting back, Colt would have left here on a stretcher.”

Josie slung my arm over her shoulders and helped me to one of the tables in the corner. Having my arm around her, even though it was only to steady myself, made me feel something I wasn’t ready to feel. Especially not when it came to feeling it for Josie Gibson. I wasn’t made to give and accept that kind of thing. Ever.

“I do know that. I’ve seen you in enough fights since the testosterone switch flipped on when you were barely out of first grade to know you could have dropped Colt like you dropped first period trig.” I shot her a tight smile. “So why did you let him beat on you like a flesh-and-bone punching bag?”

My smile went up a notch on the tightness scale. “Because.”

Instead of sighing, she rolled her eyes. When I was close by, Josie was either glaring, groaning, sighing, or rolling her eyes. I could measure my life by her expressions. “I see you’ve made a lot of progress in the whole opening-up department. Bravo. Go, you.”

“Opening up’s never been my thing. It really gets in the way of that whole mysterious vibe I like to let off. It drives the women wild.”

“It drives them something.” She leaned in to inspect the left side of my face. She came so close, I smelled that coconut shampoo she’d been using since our freshman year of high school. Josie’s coconut shampoo had marked many milestones in my life. The first time I’d noticed it was in ninth grade at the homecoming dance. That was the only dance I’d ever gone to, that dance with Josie the only one I’d danced, and coconut shampoo was the thing I remembered. Then that night a couple winters back, I’d buried my face into her hair right as I was about to—

Shit.

Scratch that.

Fuck.

What the hell was I thinking? My face probably looked like a science experiment gone wrong, and I was teetering on a chair dreaming about coconut shampoo and Josie Gibson. I wasn’t sure what I was more disturbed by: that I was fantasizing about shampoo or that my dick was hard from remembering that night with Josie. My dick, along with everything attached to it, needed to stay far away from Josie Gibson. She and her coconut shampoo were messing with my head. Messing with my brain.

“That’s going to need stitches. And probably that one, too.” Josie studied my face with a furrowed brow. “I’ll drive you to the hospital if you promise not to get blood all over my truck.”

“I don’t need doctors and stitches. I need a bottle of whiskey, a woman, and some sleep. I’ll wake up tomorrow good as new.” Gauging my pain level, I probably needed a couple of pain relievers too, but I wasn’t about to admit that. I had a reputation as a badass to uphold and asking for a couple of Tylenol had a way of ruining that.

“Garth, you need medical attention.”

I lifted my hand, catching Brandy’s attention. She had a double shot of whiskey in front of me in thirty seconds flat. I swallowed the whiskey before slamming the empty glass on the table. “There. Medical attention. Check.”

“You really are a stubborn pain in my ass.” She sighed and started for the door. “Wait there, and try not to get in another bar fight before I get back. If you’re still thirsty, try some water. You know, that stuff that comes out a faucet. It’s easier on the liver.”

“And I’m a pain in your ass?” I called after her, but her only response was a shake of her head as she disappeared out the door.

“You want another, sugar? From the looks of you, I’d say you need another after another. After another.” Brandy grabbed the empty glass and waited.

Actually, I needed a line of “anothers,” but I couldn’t get Josie’s voice out of my head. “I’ll have a water.”