What to Do With a Bad Boy Read online

  “She did. Didn’t take,” he repeated with a frown of his own. He didn’t want to talk about Lea.

  “Didn’t you like her?”

  He studied his menu as if he needed to pass a test on it. “I fucking loved her. She died. I have Colin. End of story.”

  Instead of letting it go, Del snorted.

  He snapped his gaze to hers. “What does that mean?”

  “End of story. Right. You have baggage, dude.”

  “First off, don’t call me dude. And second, I have no baggage. I am what you see.” He shrugged.

  “An annoyingly sure-of-himself father to one cute kid, and ringleader of three obnoxious younger brothers?”

  “There is that. No, I was talking about the fact that I’m a handsome, successful, amazingly skilled general contractor and carpenter. One who scares you shitless.”

  She dropped her menu. “Where the hell do you get that?”

  The waitress chose that moment to join them. “What’ll you have? Oh, hey, Del.”

  “Lara. Rena here?”

  “Nah. She called and said she had something keeping her. She’ll be working tomorrow instead. Sue traded with her.”

  “Oh.”

  “Rena?” Mike asked.

  “My cousin.” Del glared daggers at him. “Lara, bring me tonight’s special. And a Deschutes brew.”

  “Gotcha.” The waitress snapped her gum. “What about you, handsome?”

  Mike raised a brow at Del, and she blew out a breath, in annoyance, most likely. “What she’s having. But add a plate of nachos and substitute a Heineken for the Deschutes.”

  “Right-o.” Lara nodded and left them.

  “Your cousin works here?” he asked.

  She nodded but remained silent, staring at him as if trying to figure him out. Good luck to her, because he had no idea how her brain worked.

  “So.”

  “So,” she repeated, not making mention of the verbal dare he’d thrown in her lap.

  The little coward. Actually, not so little. She had to be close to six feet, because she towered over Abby and had an inch or two on Vanessa. To Mike, however, she’d stand at the perfect height.

  Lea had been petite, and it had always been a challenge to get her in the right spot for a kiss.

  Del sighed. “Now what did I do?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re scowling at me.”

  He coughed to hide his confusion. “Oh. Sorry. Just thinking about something else.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” As if she didn’t believe him.

  Unlike most women he knew, Del didn’t try to make him feel better or placate him with nonsense or flattery. He didn’t know why, but he found her attitude kind of refreshing. So different than Grace had been. “Fine. I’ll just ask.” A personal question that had been on his mind for a while, and since she had no problem asking about his dead wife… “J.T.’s your brother?”

  She grinned. “Took you long enough.”

  “Well?” J.T. looked African American, or at least part. He had lighter skin, but no way was the big guy straight-up Irish.

  “My dad met and married J.T.’s mom way before he met mine. She died. Then Liam went on a bender and met my mom. Knocked her up, she had me, then she died a few years later.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Life is what it is.”

  Interesting. “So you and J.T. are actually half-brother and -sister.”

  “Aren’t you quick? My turn. Brody’s not a McCauley with that blond hair and a last name of Singer, but you call him your brother. What’s up with that?” She accepted the beer Lara brought and took a sip, the head settling over her full upper lip.

  She licked it off, and he had a tough time stifling a groan. Brody, she asked about Brody. He took a healthy swallow of his own beer, nearly consuming half the bottle. “He moved in with us when he was five, never left. The little shit can lie, cheat, and rob you blind. We never let him deal when playing cards. But he’s family. Like Flynn’s twin, annoying as that sometimes is.” He smiled. “Colin calls him Ubie—short for Uncle Brody.”

  “Right. Ubie.” She nodded. “You guys all seem pretty tight.”

  “Yeah. How about you and your family?”

  “Just me, Dad, and J.T. For all that J.T. can be a pain, he’s cool. He did my tats.” She held out her forearms and pushed back her sleeves.

  Mike took a hard look at them and noted the beauty of the design. He ran a finger down one particular drawing, a dragon breathing fire with huge claws, and had to work to appear unaffected. He felt smooth skin, then scarring underneath and peered closer, but she moved her arm back.

  The wary look she gave him did something to his insides, made him want to step back and tread lightly. Odd. He searched for something to say and found it in a memory. “Is that your bitchin’ ass?”

  Her tension eased and she smirked. “Yep.”

  Back when they’d first met bowling with his brothers and the girls, she’d distracted him with a story about Colin mentioning her bitchin’ ass—the dragon tattoo her brother had done for her, during which she and J.T. had cursed at each other, hence the name. The distraction had worked, because he’d bowled like he was all thumbs. That and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring at her all night, thoroughly ruining his concentration.

  “Nice. Your brother’s annoying, but he has skills.”

  “So he likes to brag.” She huffed at a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail, a long section of blond bangs.

  “Is your hair really that color?” He wanted to know. Shades of gold, light and dark, mingled to create a halo for a fallen angel. Or a demon, he thought, the comparison apt.

  “Lot of personal questions you’re asking, McCauley.”

  “So what? You have nothing to hide, right? Unless you’re actually a brunette.”

  “Whatever. No, I’m a blond. This hair is as real as it gets.”

  The ungentlemanly urge to ask if she would prove it by removing her panties struck him mute. He cleared his throat, damning his sexual drive for choosing today to demand to be noticed.

  “Mine too. Naturally dark.” He winked. “I know you were dying to ask.”

  “Please. There’s nothing about you I want to know.”

  “Liar.”

  This banter he liked. No more anxious expression, no glints of vulnerability in the woman he wanted to slam up against a wall and fuck. It wouldn’t be smart—at all—but he was coming to believe it was necessary for his peace of mind. And other parts…

  “Go ahead,” he prodded, instigating. “Ask what you want to know, Del.”

  “You asked me for a favor. All because you were too scared of that little woman your mother brought for you. I can’t tell if you’re a big pussy or just a momma’s boy.”

  He liked her taking off the kid gloves. “I respect women. I don’t like hurting feelings, and I take exception to being called a momma’s boy. I love my mother. But I won’t roll over for her and beg on command.”

  She raised a brow in that annoying way that drew attention to her sexy-as-hell brow piercing.

  “Really.” He scowled.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?”

  Lara arrived in time to overhear and laughed. “All the time, handsome.”

  “Thanks, Lara.” Del shook her head.

  “Here you go, guys. A lot of food. More beer?”

  “No thanks,” Del answered. “I’m driving.”

  Mike nodded. “Hit me.”

  “I’d like to,” Del muttered.

  He grinned. “Sweetness, there’s a lot you want to do to me, but hitting ain’t on the list.”

  Lara cracked up as she left them, and he watched a delightful blush settle over Del’s features.

  “I come in here a lot, so watch what you say.”

  “Or what?” he dared.

  “Or I’ll sic him on you.” She pointed to the far corner at the biggest guy i
n the place, a bouncer, by the look of his shirt that read Bouncer. The guy waved back at her. “Earl doesn’t fight like Cam.”

  “You heard about that? Had to be Maddie.” Flynn’s girl was gorgeous and fun but liked to talk.

  “Vanessa, actually.”

  The big mouth. Beautiful, annoying, and apparently chatty.

  “Earl and I are friends.”

  “Lovers?”

  “Friends,” she emphasized. “He’s like another big brother. All I have to do is look annoyed and he’ll be all over your ass.”

  He kicked back after eating a few nachos. “Oh, now I see.”

  “See what?”

  “You’re scared. Afraid you like me more than you should, so you’re going to get your bodyguard to rough me up. ’S okay. You don’t have to be worried.” He deliberately gentled his voice, more than amused when she glowered at him. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to.” And his brothers said he didn’t know how to charm women.

  “You’re an ass, you know that?”

  “I know you want a look at my ass. Ask me nice and I might give you a peek.”

  She shoved a fry in her mouth and chewed with ferocity. “Say what you want, Mike. But we both know you want me.”

  Truth time. “I do.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “You do?”

  “Didn’t know your voice could get that high.”

  “Shut up. Explain that.”

  “Should I shut up or talk? I’m confused.”

  She glared at him.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t been kidding about Earl, because the big guy was suddenly standing at their table. “Problem, Del?”

  Before Del could answer, Mike cut in. “The lady and I are talking. She’s fine.”

  “Del?” Earl asked, frowning at Mike.

  An itch to fight beckoned, a need to siphon off the growing lust and confusion in him that came from possessive feelings about a woman he had no business feeling possessive about. Anger built. Could the guy not see Mike was talking to her?

  She smiled. “I’m fine, Earl. Just—”

  “Why don’t you take a hike, no-neck?” Mike growled at the bouncer.

  She blinked at him in shock. “Whoa. Simmer down. Earl’s a friend. Earl, Mike’s fine. Just screwing with you.”

  “You sure you’re good? ’Cause I don’t mind taking this dickhead outside and pounding some manners into him.”

  Before Mike could launch himself out of his seat and take the guy up on the invitation, Del latched onto his arm. “No. No. We’re good. Right, Mike?” The plea in her soft gray eyes hit him hard, right in the gut.

  For a moment, he just stared at her, bemused at the need to soothe her when moments ago he’d been doing his level best to rile her. Then he eased back into his chair. “We’re good.” He stroked her hand over his arm, taken with the warmth growing through his entire body. From the contact, heat filled him, centering yet again between his legs.

  “Great.” Earl gave him one more look, then turned on his heel and left.

  After a moment, Del squeezed his arm with a pinch.

  “Ow.”

  “What the hell was that?”

  “What?” He had a hard time looking away from her face, those full lips, high cheekbones, and expressively furious eyes.

  “You go from Colin’s dad—a nice guy afraid to hurt the neighbor’s feelings—to pounding-on-your-chest He-Man? Did you really want to fight Earl? He could wipe the floor with you.”

  “I don’t think so.” He unconsciously flexed, needing another go at the gym where he normally worked through his frustrations. That or on the heavy bag in his garage.

  “Well, maybe not.” She grew quiet as she stared at him. “But I don’t want you roughing up my friends.”

  “Ah, sorry.” He drank the rest of his beer and accepted the next one Lara dropped off with a beaming grin. “Been a long day, you know?” He dug into his food, pleased when Del did the same with hers. “So…back to you wanting me.”

  She groaned.

  “I’m thinking we should try it once. Get it out of our systems.” The answer to his current dilemma. He only wanted her because he hadn’t had her. Had to be the reason he obsessed over her all the time.

  “What about Colin?” she asked.

  “He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

  “You are so annoying.” She stabbed her fork into a fry, and he was glad his hands remained on his side of the table. “I meant, Colin and I are friends. He’ll be hurt when you annoy the piss out of me and we’re no longer speaking. Again.”

  “Please. That annoyance is a defense mechanism. Everyone loves me.”

  “Earl doesn’t.”

  “Everyone worth knowing,” he countered. “I consider you a decent person.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Colin loves you. The girls seem to think you’re okay. And yeah, you’re sexy as hell. Why don’t we—”

  The rest of what he’d been about to say was lost when a large hand settled over his shoulder. Déjà vu. Time to deal with Earl once and for all.

  “Oh hell.” Del sighed. “Jim, what do you want?”

  Jim? “He really wants to remove his hand before I do it for him,” Mike muttered.

  “I saw this guy bothering you. Earl let him off, but we don’t like it.”

  Mike noticed four guys, none of them as large as him, standing off to the right. He hadn’t gotten a bead on Jim yet, but the man had a large hand. No telling how muscular he might be.

  Not waiting for Jim to throw the first punch, Mike yanked the man’s hand from his shoulder and stood at the same time. He moved a few steps away from the table—away from Del—toward an unoccupied section of the bar. If everything went to hell, he didn’t want to do more than damage Jim and maybe a table or two.

  A subtle glance around him showed them the center of attention. Earl just smirked at him from the corner where he’d been standing, coming no closer.

  Now face-to-face with Jim, Mike saw that his opponent stood an inch or two shorter than himself. Mike had a lot more muscle, but Jim had a look in his eyes that told Mike he was no pushover. A street fighter, one who’d play dirty. The guy wore jeans, a T-shirt advertising a strip club, and had definite bruises on that hairy hand.

  Mike glanced at Del, who stared back at him with a hint of worry. It annoyed him she didn’t think he could handle himself. He hadn’t bulked up over the years just by carrying lumber.

  Doing his mother proud, he tried to be nice. “Now, Jim, we can do this the hard way, or you can apologize and leave us alone. Del and I were talking.”

  Del stood from the table and stepped away. “Come on, Jim. I’m here with my friend. Back off.”

  “Friend.” Jim snorted. “Yeah, right. Never seen this guy before. Some fancy schmuck.”

  Mike raised a brow. “Fancy?” He glanced down at himself. “It’s called a sweater.”

  Jim sneered. “What are you doing down here, rich guy? Slumming?”

  Mike fought the urge to laugh. “You realize I’m here with Del, right? So if I’m slumming, then you’re insulting her, not me. Not to mention the rest of the bar.”

  Jim frowned. “What?”

  “Never mind. Look, it’s obvious you want a fight. Why don’t we take this outside so no one gets hurt and—” He saw the guy winding back, readying to throw down. So when Jim threw the first punch, Mike easily dodged it. Then he punched back, a blow right to Jim’s solar plexus, which had the guy sucking wind, fast.

  Not willing to let Jim take charge and possibly damage the bar, or God forbid wind up hurting Del, Mike grabbed the guy and took him to the floor, relishing the fact that he was finally able to put his workouts at the gym to good use.

  He had Jim in an arm lock, the force wrenching the bastard’s shoulder down while Mike yanked Jim’s arm across his back, effectively using his leverage to shove Jim’s face against the dirty floor. The bastard cried out in pain when Mik
e overextended the arm even farther, to stop him from trying to fight back.

  “You done ruining my night?” You prick.

  “Mike, you win. Let him go.” Del didn’t sound pleased.

  No victory kiss for him. Hell. “Why? So he can try to sucker punch me again?” At least the guy’s backup hadn’t lent a hand. Mike had been so focused on this dickhead he hadn’t paid enough attention to the other guys. Earl and a twin behemoth appeared behind him, looking less than pleased. “Nice you finally showed up.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Jim said in a shrill voice. “You’re breaking my arm.”

  “Not yet. But you lay a hand on me again and I will,” Mike threatened, hoping he’d made his point. He didn’t want to get jumped walking out of the bar by any of Jim’s wussy friends.

  “Sorry. Swear, sorry,” Jim was panting. “Never again. My bad.”

  Ah. Message received.

  Mike eased up and stood, then rotated his own shoulders. Adrenaline buzzed, and he wanted a fight like nobody’s business. Sometimes when he worked out, a few mixed martial arts fighters used him on the mats to train. Mike had perfected wrestling down to a science, and he could always be counted on to give a good workout.

  Earl reached down and gently helped Jim to his feet. “Hell, Jim. This is twice in one week. You need to stop with the tequila.” With a last glare at Mike, the bouncer and his monster friend walked away.

  The small crowd around them dispersed, with the rough-looking group giving him subtle nods of encouragement and a few grins.

  Del sat back in her seat with a huff. “Happy now?”

  “What the hell did I do?” He sat too, then downed the rest of his beer. Before he could ask, Lara swept by to collect the empties and bring him a fresh one. “Thanks, honey.”

  “Anytime,” the woman practically purred.

  Del shot her a glare, which soothed his ego. “You made us the center of attention. Didn’t I tell you I come in here a lot?”

  “Hold on. Would you rather I let that weak asshole pound me into the ground? Then all your buddies would pity you for being with a loser.” He shrugged and started in on the special, a burger loaded with fixings, cheese, and an ungodly amount of bacon. He could feel his arteries hardening as he ate, and he moaned. “This is freakin’ amazing.”