Maybe he knows, because his tone goes soft. “I regret the man who I was. But it doesn’t take away the reality of this life. Have you any idea how many wives and girlfriends I’ve had to handle because one of my guys has done something stupid with some young piece of ass? Too many, Ivy. I see that bone-deep hurt in those women’s eyes, and their resolve to just ignore these indiscretions, and—”

“Okay, Dad,” I all but wail. “I get it. I know.” My jaw locks as I turn to him, and it takes effort to speak. “I’ve lived this life too. But I refuse to judge Gray by what others have done.”

Dad gives an expansive sigh. “For Christ’s sake, he already fools around so much there are Tumblrs devoted to his castoffs. One search on him is a PR nightmare of party pictures and half-naked women.”

Reason number one I have never Googled Gray. I ignore the thick sludge of jealousy pushing through my veins. “We’re just friends,” I insist, my tone rising. “How many times do I have to say this?”

His response is a level look full of skepticism. “For argument’s sake, let’s say this friendship grows into something more.” Dad raises a hand when I open my mouth to protest. “Hypothetical here, Ivy. What happens when it all goes south? You think he’ll want to work with me anymore?”

Like that, I go utterly cold, then flush white-hot. For a moment, I can’t make my mouth work. “This is about you.” In a fog, I stand, my fists clenching. “You don’t give a shit about me—”

“Watch your mouth.”

“No. You sit here putting all sorts of unwarranted fears in my head, and it’s all because you’re afraid of losing Gray as a client!”

Dad stands as well, and the edges of his mouth go white. I brace myself for the explosion, knowing firsthand just how loud Dad can yell when he’s pissed. Bring it on. I’m pissed too. But it doesn’t happen. No, his reaction is worse because he deflates. His wide shoulders wilt on a sigh as he sets his hands low on his hips and looks down.

“I need Grayson.” It’s almost a whisper. “There are things… Business isn’t what it used to be. Guys…they’re going to big-name firms. Salary caps, scandals, bad PR. It’s all taking a toll.”

A painful lump fills my throat. Dad has never talked to me like this. In all honesty, I don’t want to hear it. I used to think of him as Batman—questionable tactics, but on the whole, unbeatable, enduring. I cannot think of him as less.

“We’re just friends,” I whisper, as if saying it enough will somehow protect me from messing things up.

Absently, Dad nods. “Whatever you want to tell yourself, kid.”

His flippancy has me grinding my teeth. I hate him just now for manipulating me. For putting Gray in the middle. And Dad sees it in my expression. He blanches, apparently shocked. “Ivy… It might not look like it, but I am always on your side. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

* * *

Gray

My nerves are a twitchy mess. I keep thinking of the look in Mac’s eyes when, like an idiot, I sprawled on top of her. What would have happened if I had kissed her? She’d been…receptive. Hadn’t she? I’d wanted to. I’d never wanted to do something so badly in my life.

God, her lips had been too close to mine, too pretty, too pink, looking so soft and inviting and just fuck. The temptation to simply touch them with my own, to lick a path across that cute little heart-shaped mouth of hers, had been so strong that I still ache deep in my bones.

But then I blink and I see Sean Mackenzie glaring at me as if he’d been contemplating good places to hide my body, and I feel cold. I get where he’s coming from. Worse, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in regards to Ivy anymore. She means so much to me it freaks me out, and I’m suddenly on some tightrope where the wrong step will send me plummeting.

On that happy note, I turn my truck around and drive away from my house.

I head to Palmers, hoping that someone will be there to shoot the shit and get my mind off having to eventually talk to Mackenzie. That discussion should be fun. I shudder just thinking of it.

I find Dex in the booth at the back of the bar. It’s a good spot, dark enough that the chances of being left alone on a busy night are pretty good, but positioned at the right angle to watch the TV hanging over the defunct jukebox. Dex is sprawled along one side of the booth, his back against the wall, his legs hanging over the edge. He’s watching TV, and the place is quiet enough to hear Morgan Freeman’s deep voice roll on about the universe.

I slide into the opposite side of the booth. “Whatcha watching?”

Dex keeps his eyes on the TV, blue and purple light coming off of it reflecting over his skin. “Entering a Black Hole.”

“Dude, you want to learn about anal, watch some porn like the rest of us.”

As hoped, his mouth twists and his nose wrinkles. “Hot sick has just surged up my throat.”

“‘Hot sick?’” I laugh. “That’s a new one.”

Rubbing his chest as if he really might be sick, he keeps his gaze on the program. “Don’t you have someone else to pester with really bad sex jokes?”

“Nah.” I reach for his beer, taking a swig before he can grab it back. “It’s your turn on the rotation.”

A waitress ambles over, stopping beside me. “Hey there, gorgeous. You need anything?”

“Yep. Give me a Shiner Bock and put it on his tab.” I grin at Dex who sends me a sidelong glare but nods and goes back to his show.