Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,7
at some point, after years and years of enduring.
But it never did. It hurt every time, like a knife in the gut, knowing a woman like that could give Tex her phone number and a wink and get the one thing I’d wanted my entire life.
“She’s cute,” I said.
Tex shrugged. “She’s a little young for me. We’ll just leave her a decent tip.”
“You seeing anyone these days?” I asked, even though I dreaded the answer. Better to go ahead and get it out of the way. “Sounds like everyone else is shacking up. Got yourself an old lady yet?”
“Nope.” He frowned and stabbed a chip aggressively into the salsa. “No old lady.”
“No girlfriend? Casual fun?” I tried to tamp down the little swell of relief in my chest. How bad of a friend was I that I was happy he was alone? There was no good reason for me to be so possessive of Tex’s attention.
Besides, it was just a simple matter of time. Once he met the right girl, things between us would change. I’d be second best to her, whoever she was, no matter that I’d known Tex forever and she’d be brand new. So I’d better cherish these moments while I had them.
“Nope,” Tex said again. “The only woman I spend any real time with is Siren.”
Now there was an image. I widened my eyes. “She’d eat you alive.”
“I know,” Tex said with a small grin. “But she’s basically my sister, so. Definitely nothing between us. I’d say I defend her from her suitors but doesn’t need me to.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I muttered.
We both focused on our meals and a tense silence fell over us, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what had caused it. Maybe I was just sticking my foot in my mouth—maybe Tex felt like after all my screw-ups, I didn’t get to question him about his life.
“Sorry,” I said after a few more minutes of nothing but crunching chips and sips of alcohol. “Shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s not that.” Tex scrubbed his hand over his hair. “It’s nothing.”
Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Just been a hard couple of years,” Tex said through gritted teeth, like it physically hurt him to say it.
My heart plummeted to my feet. “I—I’m sorry.”
Tex stiffened, but didn’t acknowledge what I’d said. He took a long drink of his margarita.
Why would he say that if he didn’t want to talk about it? I didn’t have the patience I used to have to navigate all of these half-spoken grievances. I didn’t want to let this just blow over—it’d only be worse the next time it came up. “Are you listening to me?”
“I heard you,” Tex said darkly. “I know you’re sorry.”
Frustration burned through me. “You’re acting like a dick. I just want to talk about it—and obviously you do, too, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Tex took another drink. “You’re back. Can’t we just celebrate? Like old times?”
“It’s not like old times,” I said. “And you know it.”
Tex finally turned to look at me, and his sharp green eyes weren’t angry, but they were—surprised. He wasn’t used to me pushing back like this. From the other end of the bar, the bartender gave us a careful look. Tex caught it and clenched his jaw in frustration. “We’re not doing this here.”
“Doing what?” My voice was a little louder than I intended with the strength of my frustration. Why was he so opposed to just having a fucking conversation? We’d only been back together for a day, and we were already bickering again. “I thought we were talking.”
“You’re too loud,” Tex growled as he gripped the front of my shirt. I fastidiously ignored the heat that curled in my gut. “We’re not doing this here.”
“All right,” I said, and stood up from the bar so hard the stool scraped across the deck. I caught the bartender’s eye. “We’ll be right back, ma’am,” I said with a grin I hoped was charming. I dropped my keys on the bar. “Promise. Collateral.”
Tex grabbed his hat and followed me down the stairs leading from the boardwalk to the sand. The beach was lit by the waxing moon and the aging lights from Fishhead’s above us, casting everything in confusing chiaroscuro. I stumbled on the sand a little, but found my footing near one of the damp beams holding up the boardwalk. A few yards behind us, the ocean roared, drowning out the sounds of the bar