Wingmen (Modern Love Story #2, 4, & bonus)

by Daisy Prescott

  At least Kurt had it worse.

  I must have fallen asleep because the sound of my freedom woke me. “Donnely, your ride’s here.”

  I blinked a few times in the bright fluorescent light and stretched before stumbling to my feet.

  “You’re a lucky guy,” a mustached middle-aged officer said.

  “Why?” I yawned as we walked down the hall to the front counter.

  “All of the charges against you are being dropped. An off-duty officer came in and cleared you. Sounds like the other guy threw the first punch.”

  My anonymous friend by the pinball machine had saved my ass. “Is he still here? I’d like to say thanks.”

  “Nah, he left a while ago after giving his statement.”

  “Can I at least get his name?”

  “King, Jesse King.”

  “No shit. He any relation to the Kings in Freeland?” What were the odds?

  “Not sure, but I’ll let him know you said thanks.” He led me over to the counter where I collected my wallet and jacket. “Put a steak on your eye and maybe stay out of Oak Harbor for a while, Mr. Donnely.”

  I thanked him and said I’d follow his advice. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I felt like a complete tool. Bar brawl? On a Tuesday? I didn’t know how I got to this point in my life, but things needed to change, and soon.

  I checked my phone. No texts or updates from John. Escaping the judgmental stare of the officer at the front desk, I exited with a friendly wave, which was not reciprocated. The rain had stopped and fresh air would do me good. I rubbed my hands over my head and searched for John’s truck. Tomorrow at work was going to suck. A shiner would be all the buzz in the break room. I dreaded the talk I knew would be coming from Al about being a Donnely and representing the company. Not to mention explaining a black eye to my family.

  A parked car flashed its lights. Where was John? He hadn’t been in the lobby and his truck wasn’t out front, yet the officer had said my ride was here.

  Two short honks of the horn drew my attention to the curb.

  The passenger window slowly slid down and a mop of brown hair leaned toward the opening.

  “You going to stand there all night?”

  IDAHO.

  Hailey sat in her car and stared at me through the open window.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’m waiting for John.”

  “Fine.” The window began to rise and her white reverse lights flashed as she shifted into gear.

  Shit. I glanced around again, not seeing John, and it hit me she was my ride. My only ride.

  “Stop!” I jogged up to the car. “At least give me a ride to my truck.” I frowned and winced.

  “Get in, Tom.” The window closed in my face.

  I slammed the door behind me and slunk low in the seat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “You’re welcome. And you really want to risk driving home after drinking and being in jail once tonight?”

  “Fuck. You’re right,” I mumbled into my window. “Thank you. I owe you.”

  “When I said friends, I didn’t expect it to extend to picking your sorry ass up from jail in the middle of the night, but that’s what friends do for friends.”

  “Neither did I,” I snarled.

  “This is exactly how I wanted to begin Valentine’s Day.”

  “Oh, shit.” The night was getting better and better.

  “Surprisingly, this isn’t my worst Valentine’s.”

  “I’m such a jerk. I didn’t realize the date.” So much for being a lover and not a fighter.

  “It’s no big deal. I swear. But let’s agree you’re a jerk.”

  I nodded and texted John. We drove along in silence until we hit Penn Cove.

  “Do you know Jesse King?” The conversation had to start somewhere.

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “He saved my ass tonight.”

  “I know. He called me when you got hauled away. You’re lucky he was there from what I hear. Sounds like a real old-fashioned bar brawl.”

  “It was insane. Men were throwing punches for no reason. I think a few pool cues got broken.”

  “Who started it?”

  I really didn’t want to tell her Kurt was involved.

  “I didn’t throw the first punch, if you’re worried about me starting fights. In fact, I dodged a few before I was forced to defend myself.”

  “Forced to defend yourself?”

  I sighed and hit my head against the glass a couple of times.

  “Tom?” Her hand reached over the console and lingered above my thigh for a few seconds before she pulled away. I grabbed it and held it in the neutral territory between us.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “I get a call at midnight from my cousin saying a friend of mine is in jail for fighting in a bar, I think I passed mad around Greenbank.”

  “Okay. But it wasn’t my fault.”

  “Tom—”

  I cut her off. “Listen, I didn’t start it, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with being an asshole either. He was talking shit about me. Fine. Whatever. But when he started saying shit about my family (and you, I thought), what did he expect me to do? Sit there and take it? No one says shit about people I care about in front of me and walks away smiling.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Her eyes left the road and met mine for a second. Well, one of mine. I couldn’t see out of my right eye at all.

  “Jesse didn’t tell you?”

  “It was a short conversation. I hung up on him after he said Lori’s brother was in jail.”

  “Kurt. It was Kurt.”

  She growled and cursed, “That ass-sandwich. I’m going to kick his ass.”

  “Ass-sandwich?” I laughed and raised my good eyebrow. “I’ve already done the ass-kicking part.”

  “What was he saying?”

  No way would I repeat his words. “It’s not important. It proved his lack of character. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Please tell me.”

  “Why? It won’t make anything better. I admit using my fists tonight was the wrong thing to do, but it’s done. I think I made my point clear. He better keep his thoughts to himself about the Donnelys.”

  “I can’t believe he was talking shit about your family.”

  “He’s pissed because we won’t sell to him. Like selling was ever an option. He may have gotten to the greedy cousins, but there’s no way we’d let land be developed by him.”

  “He doesn’t like losing.” She sighed and squeezed my hand.

  “Who does?” I wove my fingers with hers. I’d messed up with her in ways I would never forgive myself for, yet here she was, driving my sorry self home.

  “Please make me a promise?”

  “Anything.”

  She started to laugh and caught herself. “Anything? Watch what you say, mister.”

  At this moment I would give her anything she asked for. Anything to make amends. Anything to have a fresh start with her. Anything except . . .

  “This doesn’t mean we’re good,” she whispered and put her hand on the steering wheel. “Please promise me you won’t let Kurt get to you again. He’s crazy and he’ll use anything he can to get what he wants. I think the land is part of some sick revenge plot against me for breaking up with him. Promise me you won’t be a pawn in his game.” Her voice sounded worried and earnest; honest fear frayed the edges of it.

  “I promise,” I said to the window, resting my head against the cool glass. My eye throbbed and I needed to get ice on it soon.

  Silently, I promised I would make this right. Whatever this was between us, making it right was my new goal.

  When we arrived at my house, she put the car in park but didn’t turn off the engine. The clock on the dash said one-thirty.

  “Is it too much if I apologize again?”

  “For waking me up?”

  “That, but so much more. I—”

  “It’s late.” She stared ou
t the windshield into the dark woods. Illuminated by the car’s lights, they appeared both ominous and magical.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered, touching her cheek.

  “Don’t. Just don’t.” Her eyes sparkled with tears.

  “Hailey—”

  “Please. Let me keep a small shred of dignity and let me walk away.”

  I pulled her to me and encircled her with my arms. “I’m not meant to be a boyfriend,” I whispered into her hair. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She sniffled.

  Oh, shit. Was she crying?

  She pushed away, and rubbed her face on her sleeve. “It’s fine. I guess I could use all the friends I can get right now.”

  “If you don’t mind being friends with a known manwhore, and the potential gossip that comes with it, friends?” My smile brightened when her eyes crinkled in amusement.

  “I suppose it might be worth the risk of promiscuous by association.”

  “People will assume we’re having sex, just so you know.”

  “No more of . . .” She pointed at our dust angel still untouched at the entrance to the shop.

  Frowning, I scratched my chin. “I suppose. I’m open to a benefits plan.”

  “I don’t doubt you are.”

  I shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps attacking me.”

  “I’m sure I can find some self-control.”

  “Maybe see if you left it in the same place as your dignity.”

  She flipped me off.

  “Stop with the dimples, Donnely!”

  I held up my hands and got out of the car. “It’s probably safer out here anyway.”

  With a wink and a smirk, I backed toward the house. She flipped me the bird again and drove off with me waving and laughing from the porch.

  What the hell was all that? Did I agree to not have sex with her anymore? Ever? Maybe I had a concussion as well as a black eye, because I would never agree to it if I were in my right frame of mind.

  TURNED OUT, I would have spent the entire night in jail had I waited for John to come get me. The jerk went out of town with Diane. On Valentine’s Day. And proposed.

  Yeah, I called it last year.

  Whipped.

  I told him as much when we met to play pool a week later.

  “You give her your mom’s ring?” I asked though I knew the answer.

  “Yeah,” he said softly.

  “You didn’t hide it in her food or some dumb shit, did you? Because I’m not sure I can handle you turning into one of those guys from jewelry commercials with their balloons and bows, and no balls.”

  “No balloons or bows. I swear.” He gave me a wide smile, revealing how ridiculously happy he felt.

  “Good. Cause I can’t be best friends with a pussy.”

  “Says the man whose nickname is Tom Cat?”

  I dismissed his teasing with a tilt of my head. “I’m more like the catnip. All the pussies go wild for me.”

  He gagged.

  “Can’t help it if they can’t resist my charms.”

  Olaf snorted from his spot at the bar.

  “You got something to add, O?” I asked, lining up my next shot, but pausing to observe the opinionated old goat.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m proud of you, John. You found yourself a good woman and were smart enough to realize it,” he said.

  “Hey, what about me?” I took the shot, missed, and stood up to glare at O.

  “You’re an idiot.” Olaf set down the pint glass he’d been drying.

  John chuckled on the other side of the table, chalking his cue and studying the balls.

  “Hey, now. I don’t see a Mrs. Olaf around here. Us bachelors got to stick together.”

  “You want to wake up some day and be me? Tending bar and putting up with idiots like you?” He set down the glass with a thump.

  John and I had joked over the years about taking over the Dog when Olaf retired or ever decided to sell. It didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  “No offense, O, but I’ve always been more handsome than you.”

  I’d made him laugh and he muttered under his breath, “Stupid, cocky bastard. God cursed you with those good looks and not enough sense.”

  John was having himself a good old-fashioned giggle-fest as he made another shot and sunk his ball in the corner. I scowled at him, and he grinned at me.

  “Whipped,” I mouthed at him.

  “So, how’s the single life?” John asked.

  “Eh.” I fixed my eyes on the table.

  “No hot new girl from over in town? No lonely, single lady on Valentine’s Day?”

  “The only woman I saw on V Day was Ruby in Oak Harbor.” I lied by omission.

  “When you called me from jail? What the hell were you doing all the way up there anyways?”

  “Shh.” I stared over his shoulder at Olaf. “Minding my own damn business.”

  “Defensive much? What’s the story?”

  I told him the short version: pull-tabs, bar brawl, jail, the phone call to his voicemail. I failed to mention Kurt or Hailey.

  “You were in a full out brawl? Since when do you fight? First sign of trouble, you’re out the door or walking in the other direction. What, or who, started it?”

  “Some asshole,” I muttered.

  “He give you that black eye? Anyone we know?” He wasn’t dropping it.

  “No one you know.”

  He studied me. “You’re being cagey. Why?”

  I huffed and set my cue on the table. “And you’re being fucking nosey.”

  “Did you get arrested?”

  “No, no charges were pressed. I was more of a bystander.” I rolled and cracked my neck.

  “Don’t pull any fighting bullshit around here,” Olaf grumbled at me.

  “When have you ever known me to fight?” I waited for a beat. “Ever?”

  “I don’t want to disrespect your grandfather’s memory by calling the cops on you, Tom.”

  I threw up my arms. “For chrissakes! It was a one off thing. No arrest. No charges. It was only some assholes who thought they could run their mouths about shit.”

  I grabbed my jacket and reached in the pocket for my wallet. Pulling out a twenty, I tossed it next to our pitcher.

  “How’d you get home?” John’s words stopped me.

  “Huh?”

  “From jail. You called me, but since I wasn’t around, who’d you get to pick you up?”

  I closed my eyes and went with the truth. “Hailey’s got a cousin on the force up there, and he gave her the head’s up.”

  John pressed his lips together and nodded, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to say I’d fucked Hailey, but he’d probably come to the same conclusion on his own. “You definitely seem to have nine lives like a cat.”

  “Now she’s a keeper, that King girl is. Talented artist, too. Came to her senses and didn’t marry the wrong man,” Olaf said, and then turned up the TV by the bar, ending this rare episode of giving his opinion.

  I side-eyed O, and then met John’s eyes. “This has been a most peculiar evening. I’m calling it a night.”

  “I drove your ass here, so unless you’re walking, you better wait up,” John called out to me at the door.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled, long and slow, before stepping outside into the frosty night air. When John followed me out a few moments later, I laid some ground rules.

  “Remember the conversation we had last year in this exact spot about relationships and women?”

  He nodded.

  “I think we’re not due for another one of those for a while.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Those were the last words we spoke until he dropped me off at my house.

  He was the best kind of friend a guy could have.

  I waited for the fight to hit the island gossip circles, and the inevitable fallout from the family, but I never heard a word. Oddly enough, everyone seemed to buy my story about a chunk of wood hittin
g my goggles. The more time passed, the more the bruise around my eye faded, and the stranger the whole situation felt. I didn’t think John would say anything. Or Hailey. Kurt? I figured he and his buddies would have rushed to smear my name all over the island. Wasn’t that the whole point of the attack?

  Unless he was so much of a wuss that when the police refused to press charges, he slunk back to Seattle with his tiny, micro-tail between his legs. It was possible.

  Once again, Hailey and I avoided each other at work. Although, Bertha caught me wandering through the front office more often than typical. I started bringing her a fresh cup of coffee, four sugars and extra cream, as a cover, and maybe as a bribe.

  A month after the fight, the proverbial shit hit the fan.

  I was working away, sparks flying, when movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned down my torch and lifted my mask to try to catch what Al was shouting.

  “I’m coming down.” I gestured and turned off my equipment, set my gloves and mask aside, and lowered myself to the ground.

  When my feet hit the gravel, I could tell whatever he needed to say, it didn’t make him happy.

  “You’ve got a visitor in the office.”

  “Who?” I asked the obvious question. No one dropped by to visit me during work. I was a welder. Not like I had an office. Hell, I never paid attention to my phone when I was working.

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  She. Shit. Who would be bringing personal drama to the yard? “Is it something with my family?”

  “Wouldn’t say. Told me you had to come meet her, or she’d wait.”

  Some woman I’d never seen before—yes, I was positive—stood in the office reception area wearing a lady suit with a skirt and blazer.

  She turned at the sound of us walking through the door. “Tom Donnely?”

  “Yeah?” I kept the counter between us.

  “Tom Donnely, you’ve been served.” She handed me an envelope. “Have a nice day.”

  Kurt had decided to sue me for his medical expenses and damages to his professional reputation.

  Broken nose was probably my doing. Sullied professional reputation? He did it to himself.