“You look like you’re ready to rip someone’s head off,” Vince says.

“Shut up,” I grunt.

“Is that where we are with this now? Already?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, but don’t look his way.

He laughs, clapping me on the back. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

I don’t respond. Because he’s not wrong.

Rocket saunters up, grinning as he takes a sip of his scotch and looks where we’re looking. “Gotta hand it to you, Giz, you sure as shit know how to pick ’em. I mean, she’s fucking hot and funny and—”

“You met her for ten minutes. Back off, fucker.”

He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “Remember that bet way back when? The drums for breaking up with my girl?”

“How could I forget? She was good at a lot of things,” I say to wipe the smug look off his face.

“Yeah, well, I think it’s time to reciprocate that bet. When your time is up with her, maybe it’s my turn to have your seconds.”

Fury flashes instantly in a way I’ve never experienced before. My glare is nothing compared to how tightly clenched my fists are. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Rocket raises his hands in surrender, his chuckle drawing others to look our way. “Relax. I was just messing with you.”

But I’m not laughing. Because this isn’t a joke.

Across the room, Hendrix glances my way. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I forget that Rocket and Vince are standing there or that no doubt, Hawkin is somewhere close by about to chime into their razzing.

You could have called me.

Those words ring in my ear. They were sincere, and despite the fact they came from someone I definitely hurt earlier, she said them as a woman trying to help me right a wrong.

A lump forms in my throat and I struggle with these foreign feelings. I don’t quite understand them.

Then my phone buzzes.

Hendrix: Why are you looking at me like that?

I smirk.

Me: Like what?

Hendrix: Like you want to cause a scene.

Me: Maybe I do. Sounds par for the course.

Hendrix: You’re supposed to be on your best behavior. Remember?

Me: And you’re not supposed to be charming every man who comes and talks to you.

I watch her smile curl up as she reads the text.

Hendrix: Maybe this is all part of my master plan.

Me: Master plan? To do what?

Her eyes widen slightly, a flush creeping up her neck. And damn if I don’t want to drag her out of here right now. All I can hope is that the text she’s typing me gives me a reason to do just that.

Hendrix: To find somewhere very soon, very near, where you can put that smart mouth of yours to good use.