Why don't you Stay ... Forever - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,15

with Austin, who has an ego that can bust open doors. Austin, however, is a good guy deep down. Will do anything for anyone. And he isn’t smarmy.

Keeping up with Austin’s certainty that he’s God’s gift to women lets me survey Reuben with some detachment. He is, I guess, good-looking in a way women like, with his dark hair and symmetrical face, plus he has a dancer’s body and easy way of carrying himself.

Too bad he’s a dickhead.

“Not really your business,” I say mildly.

“No?” Reuben steps nearer. “We broke up only because I had to move up north, and we knew a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work.” He’s even closer now, in my personal space. If he touches me, I’m decking him. “But now I’m home.”

“I see that.” I’m not good with snappy comebacks so I keep my answers short and simple.

“Erin needs someone who understands her.” Reuben takes a step back, lucky him. “Not a geek focused on his device.” He gives a flick of a hand at my phone, twisting his lip at his double-entendre.

“Got it.”

“Good.” Reuben gives me a once over. I remain on the sofa’s arm—I’m almost eye-to-eye with him at this height. His regards me in disdain, and I make myself not care. “I’m glad you understand,” he says.

“Oh, I understand.” I slide my phone into my back pocket and stand up. I like the hint of worry in his eyes as I stare down at him. “I understand that Erin lives her own life and makes her own decisions about who she’s with. What you should understand is that, if you mess with Erin, you mess with me.”

“Are you threatening me?” Reuben widens his dark eyes and draws himself up. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Growing up with three sports-involved brothers—I was Zach’s practice tackle dummy when he was into football—means I don’t even skip a heartbeat. I can tell Reuben’s strong, as dancers are, but I learned to fight back early in my life.

“Yeah … Reuben, is it?”

He drops the I’m-so-sophisticated pose and leans to me again, becoming nothing more than a pissed-off brat who sees a threat to his position in life.

“You watch yourself,” he snarls at me. “I don’t give many people second chances.”

Is he going to throw a punch at me right here in the hall, with dancers and theater staff wandering around us?

Whatever would have happened, I don’t know, because Dean barrels out of a dressing room a few doors down. With the makeup wiped from his face, Dean looks human. Not as handsome as Reuben—his face is hard and bears lines of experience—but he’s bigger than Reuben, with more magnetism.

“Come on, Reuben,” Dean says jovially but with force. “Let me buy you that drink before you get your ass kicked.”

Reuben straightens up, annoyed at the interruption. “I don’t date guys, Dean. I’ve told you before. Many times.”

“Like I’d go out with you.” Dean huffs a laugh. “I have taste. What I mean is the company is heading for happy hour. I’m inviting you along, giving you a chance for a graceful exit. Erin’s done with you. Get over it.”

Reuben glowers at him. “Fuck you, Dean.”

He turns on his heel and stalks down the hall, banging open a door at the far end. Bright sunlight flashes into the windowless corridor, then cuts off as the door slams.

Dean gives the closed door the finger and turns back to me. “Sorry about that, Ben. You’re invited to happy hour too, now that I got rid of Reuben.”

“Thanks.” I glance at the dressing room door through which Erin disappeared. “Not sure what Erin wants to do.”

“I get it.” Dean flashes a big smile and thumps me on the shoulder. “See you there. Or not.”

He walks away, chuckling. I rub my shoulder, thinking that if Dean ever decided to kick my ass, I’d be hard-pressed to survive.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Erin tells me as she settles into my truck, buckling her seatbelt.

“Okay,” I answer.

In silence, I pull out of the lot and navigate the traffic that has built up even on a Sunday afternoon. There’s a train chugging across the five-way intersection behind us, which is stopping cars in all directions.

Erin deflates. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just that—we broke up, Reuben left, and I realized it was a good thing. I’m done with it.”

“Okay.”

Erin gazes at me in concern. I turn off Fifty-Ninth Avenue to get away from traffic and wind through a quiet neighborhood