Physical Distraction: A Sinful Suspense Novel by Tess Oliver Page B

scraped the hardwood floor as she pushed it back. “See you in ten?”
    “I’ll be there with fucking bells on.”
    She leaned down and pressed her lips against my ear. “Forget the damn bells and just make sure you have a condom.” She sashayed away with an exaggerated movement of her slim hips.
    “Bitch,” Dane muttered. “Anyhow, what do you think? Should I go for it?”
    “It’s your fucking pride, dude. I can’t sing worth shit, and you make me sound like a fucking Grammy winner. But, hey, without poker this place is dull as a fucking morgue tonight. So go for it.” I gulped back some beer. “Hey, by the way, thanks for your help today. Out on the water—Thanks.”
    “Yep. Hey, what song should I sing?” And that was Dane. Deep down I knew he had some emotion, some fibers of being that made him more human, but he rarely showed even a spark of it. I had never figured out if keeping it all buried had helped him get through our crappy childhood or if that was just the way he was born. Being two years younger than Dane, my earliest memories of him were when he was six. He’d always been a little removed from anything happening around him, like he was living in his own separate world right smack in the middle of the real one. Even back when we were just two out-of-control boys playing bank robbers in the backyard, Dane was out for a good time and nothing else. He was rowdy as hell and the teachers never knew what to do with him. And none of it fazed him. But today, when I saw his face as I broke back through the surface, I saw it, that flicker of concern. He would never confess to it and he might very well have already forgotten that moment, but at the time, the incident had scared him plenty. It reminded me why I’d come back to this fucked up town. I’d spent my whole life watching his back, and in his own, less obvious way, he’d always watched mine.
    Dane leaned back. He was wearing his usual head to toe black leather, including his black shit-kicker boots. It was a look that worked for him. Most people were afraid of him, of both of us for that matter, but Dane didn’t come after you unless you fully deserved it. And his anger, which rarely surfaced, was fucking explosive. I’d been on the receiving end of it twice growing up, and both times, I’d ended up with a trip to the emergency room. Fortunately, for the people of Blackthorn Ridge, he didn’t give a shit about much, so he rarely lost his temper. There were a few local women brave enough to date him. If he was a little less unpredictable, there’d be a lot more.
    “Ozzy Osbourne,” Dane said as he lifted his beer mug.
    “What about him?”
    “I’m going to sing one of his songs. I think I can pull it off and snatch myself that five hundred bucks.”
    “Well, I’ll be back in to cheer you on just as soon as I take care of some important business.”
    “Yeah.” He motioned his head toward Katy who was giving me the hungry eye across the room. “There isn’t anything important or business-like with what you’re going outside to do.”

Chapter 9
    Tashlyn
    Everly stuck her phone back into her purse. “According to Hayden, who works at the grain and feed store and who is best friends with Finn’s sister’s workmate, Sally, who I can’t stand, by the way, Finn was released with a bump on the head and nothing more. Thank goodness. I only wish he’d be at Rotten Apples tonight to see me in this outfit.” She held up her arms and stared at the big bell shaped sleeves, a vintage shirt I had in my collection. It had once belonged to my aunt, and she’d graciously passed it to me when I spotted it looking mod and vintage and cool in her closet. Everly had pulled it out of my bag and fallen in love with it too. She paired it with a jean mini skirt and boots and she looked as if she’d just hopped out of a fashion magazine from the sixties.
    With all she’d done for me, I was just happy that I finally had something to give her. I had