The Bromance Book Club - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,43
as he sauntered toward them. He pointed directly at Gavin. “Yo, Scott. Why didn’t you tell me your wife was so hot? No wonder you’re wound so tight.”
Gavin swung his fist before he could talk himself out of it, before he even realized he’d decided to do it. The punch landed squarely below Mack’s eye and caught him enough by surprise that Mack stumbled back, a hand over his cheek and a wounded look in his eyes.
“What the hell?” Mack pulled his hand away to look at his fingers, presumably for any signs of blood. “What was that for?”
“I don’t know. I guess my toxic masculinity doesn’t like you hitting on my wife.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mack said. “I hit on everyone’s wives! It’s my specialty. You don’t have to punch me for it.”
Gavin took a step forward. Del wrapped an arm around Gavin’s chest and held him back. “Easy there, Creed.”
The glass door slid open. Nessa and Thea ran out wearing matching expressions of shock. Thea’s held a hint of something a lot more sinister, though, and Gavin knew he’d just fucked up. Again.
“What is going on?” Thea demanded.
“Nothing,” Gavin grumbled, shaking out his hand. Dammit, that hurt. Contrary to stereotypes, professional athletes didn’t go around throwing punches very often. Gavin had been in exactly one bench-clearing brawl in his entire career, and he’d only managed to knock someone’s hat off before the umpires broke it up.
Thea looked at Mack. “Are you OK?”
“You’re worried about him?”
“He’s the one who got hit!”
Mack cocked a half smile and milked the situation for all it was worth. “Don’t you worry about me now, darling. I get this response from a lot of husbands.”
Gavin made a strangled noise.
Thea glared at him. “Inside. Now.”
Gavin followed on wooden legs as Thea stormed back inside, stalked a path through the kitchen, and ducked into Del’s first-floor study. She slammed the door and whirled around.
He was in so much trouble. “Babe—”
“I swear to God, if you try to babe me right now, our entire deal is off.”
He shut his mouth. The word deal left a sour taste. That’s what his entire marriage had been reduced to.
“What is wrong with you, Gavin? You’re acting like a lunatic! This is how you plan to win me over again?”
“I’m sorry—”
“What if the girls saw you hit him? Do you know how much that would scare them?”
No. He hadn’t thought about that. She was right. He was acting like a lunatic. A slimy-bellied worm wanker, came the whispered reply. Great. Lord One-liner had now surged past helpful tips into Shakespearean insults.
“What right do you have to march back into my life after a month of the silent treatment and decide to go caveman on a guy just for kissing my hand?” Thea seethed. “Do you seriously trust me so little?”
“I trust you, Thea. It’s him I don’t trust.”
“Oh, that is so insulting.” Thea pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically and adopted a breezy Southern Belle accent. “I’m just a fragile little damsel in distress who can’t take care of herself around such strong, virulent men. Save my virtue, dear husband.” She leveled him with a gaze. “This little jealousy act might impress me a little more if you hadn’t left me.”
“You kicked me out, Thea.” Why the hell did everyone forget that part?
Perhaps because you left her long before that, you lily-livered bastard.
Thea shook her head and stormed toward the door.
“Thea, wait,” Gavin said, reaching for her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an asshole.”
With a steadying breath, she walked out, leaving him alone with the voice of Lord Shitty Timing. Worm wanker? Seriously? What the hell even was that?
When Gavin finally emerged from the study, he ran headlong into a line of stern faces and crossed arms at the end of the hallway. Apparently, several more people had arrived while he was in the study. And apparently, none of them were too happy to see him.
Del, Yan, and Malcolm glared like he’d just been caught watching soccer. Del gave an angry jerk of his head toward the stairs to his basement. “Downstairs. Now.”
“I need to find Thea.”
“She’s with the girls. Go.”
With a resigned sigh, Gavin followed the men down the stairs to Del’s finished basement. He rounded the corner and stopped. Mack sat on the couch, an ice pack pressed to his cheek.
Gavin turned around. “No. No fucking way. I’m not talking to him.”
Del grabbed his arm. “Mack has something he wants to say.”