Ryder tips his empty glass in my direction. “Yup. I’m about to turn her pro.”
Brock shoves a wad of cash in my cleavage, and stares at me a beat, desolation returning to his eyes before he turns and walks away. I pull the cash from my cleavage and watch him bleed into the throng, my heart sinking as I thumb through the knot of hundred-dollar bills. There’s at least two grand in my possession. He might have a few calls to make, but he’s not hitting the ATM.
Another lie, this one managing to confuse and worry me further.
The second Brock’s out of view, Ryder rests his hand on my nape, guiding my face to within inches of his. The spiced scent of his cologne, combined with the warmth of his touch, curls a live wire of adrenaline around my limbs.
“You’re the most goddamn beautiful thing ever created,” he croons, his words spoken soft against my cheek. “I might be a little hemmed up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see straight. I’m positive I’ll never come across anything as breathtaking as you.” He wets his lips, the sight of his delicious barbell causing my body’s temperature to jump. “Cats like me don’t usually use the word ‘breathtaking,’ but hell if the good Lord above wasn’t on his game the day he made you. In leather or not, you, Amber Moretti, are an angel to tainted eyes.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, sure I’ve squeezed my clutch into the shape of a pancake. I inhale a shaky breath, trying to replenish the oxygen his declaration yanked from my lungs.
“You’re very welcome.” He steps back and nails his gaze to mine. “Also, we’re here to have a good time. If I have to beat a real smile outta ya, I will. I’m not beyond getting . . . physical if the occasion calls for it. You think you’re an expert at hiding your thoughts, but it’s not your forte, peach. You suck at it.”
“I’m fine.” The lie slips from my mouth with excruciating effort. “Besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about what your waitress friend is or isn’t going to do to you after her shift, and not what’s bothering me?”
“Asking me not to worry about you is like asking me not to take my next breath, Amber.” He tilts his head, genuine concern darkening the turquoise in his eyes. “I’m also starting to think ya get off on making me call you out on your bullshit. You’re far from fine. I’m not an asshole, Moretti. You haven’t been fine for a few weeks.”
“You win, Mr. Genius. I’m not fine. But how am I supposed to be when you and Brock aren’t? Something happened when you guys went on your last pickup, and no one’s saying shit to me about it. I know I’m not supposed to ask questions, yada, yada, yada, but I’m not an asshole, Ashcroft.” I sigh as I look away, a plethora of nerves attacking my system as I shove the knot of cash into my clutch. “Something’s wrong. I can sense it.”
Ryder hooks his finger under my chin, dragging my attention back to his. “Would you stop?”
“No. I won’t stop.” Though my words are a whisper, they come out as harsh as I intend them to. “While we’re at it, let’s talk about you quitting football out of nowhere. Or maybe we should discuss Brock not wanting to have sex with me—no matter how many times I’ve initiated it.” I tap my chin, aggravation bubbling in my chest. “Oh! And let’s not forget that you and Brock snorted so much blow last weekend that I was positive you two were overdosing when I found you both—after three straight days of not sleeping—passed out on Brock’s kitchen floor. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m losing it, Ryder. Tell me—once again—that I’m imagining this . . . this change in you and Brock, and I’ll forget everything.”
“You’re losing it,” he replies without skipping a beat. “So forget whatever twisted shit that pretty head of yours conjured up.”
I may not be in his mind—chained to whatever’s holding him hostage to his thoughts—but I can see his lie took excruciating effort too. Guilt, fear, and anger. It’s all there in his eyes, masking the truth.
“Thanks for being honest, really. You’ve put every doubt I had to rest.” I let out a dry laugh, making sure he knows I’m aware he’s talking nothing but smack. “Your integrity’s something I—and everyone in your life—can always count on. Again, I appreciate it.”
“I’m begging you to chill the fuck out, Amber.” Ryder rushes a hand through his hair, his plea lost on me amid the sewage seeping from his mouth. “Come on, momma. We’re here to have a good time. Just drop it, and relax, okay?”
“And if I don’t relax and drop it, it’ll be my fault everyone’s weekend turned to shit, right?” I snort, digging a hand into my hip. “I’ll be to blame for ruining what should’ve been a good time?”
“Amber,” Madeline interrupts, touching my shoulder. “Let’s go take a walk, all right? We’ll hit up a couple of slot machines. Maybe catch a few hotties in the high-roller room.”
With anger churning my gut, Madeline’s words fly over my head as I narrow my eyes on Ryder. “You guys can talk about sharing me, but can’t tell me what really happened during your last pickup?” I catch him by his silk tie, tugging his face to mine. “Huh, Ry? It’s easier to shoot the shit about how you two plan on fucking me sideways? How you boys are gonna rock my world as you fuck away my pain?” Seething, I yank harder, his nose smashed to mine as a flurry of tears dribbles down my cheeks. “You and Brock are lying con artists, and you know it. All you two have done is hurt me more.”