“It is what it is, little man. You need to get her—”
“Shut the fuck up, Colton,” he hissed. “You have no idea what’s going on in my head right now.”
The shock on Colton’s face was palpable as his brows dipped low over his green eyes. “Then go after her, Gavin. When you want something this badly, you don’t just give up. You fight and fight until you absolutely can’t fight anymore. It’s in the Blake bloodline, so it should be easy enough for you. Besides, I’ve never known a more stubborn little bastard in my entire life.”
Gavin almost choked on a bitter laugh, but he briefly found himself pondering his brother’s suggestion. He knew he could barge into Emily’s life and try to break down her defenses. The thought of holding her captive in his apartment, in his arms, in his bed until she cracked and swore to be his became more appealing to him with each passing second. He could see somewhere behind her eyes that she was hiding feelings for him, and he understood her fear of not wanting to unleash them. The risk was huge on both their parts. After confessing their need to be together, the scrutiny of what they would have to suffer from the opinions of others would be hard for them, but they could endure it together.
However, in this situation, what was the use of going after her? The thought that he might bide his time with her and possibly—no, definitely—fall in love with her only to have her decide she didn’t want to be with him seared at his heart. He’d be shit-all stupid to consider it. But, God, he couldn’t do anything else but close his eyes and think of her. The surge of helplessness to do something consumed him.
“Have you lost your fucking mind? Fight for her? She’s marrying him.”
“You’re asking me if I’ve lost my mind?” Colton questioned incredulously. Taking a seat across from Gavin, he cocked his head to the side. “Brother, not only have you decided on attending this engagement party, you’ve also accepted Dillon’s request to be one of his groomsmen. Who’s the one that’s lost their mind here?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to decline?” Gavin groaned. “Remember, I need to act somewhat normal around him.”
He shrugged. “Tell them you’re sick.”
Gavin emitted a humorless laugh. “Believe me, I just might book a trip out of the country at this point.” Rising from his chair, he grabbed for his suit jacket and shrugged into it. “I need a fucking drink.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
“Are you coming or not?”
“Sure, if I get to pick the place.”
“Pick away.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a cocktail lounge in the East Village. Gavin was impressed with the neighborhood and Colton’s choice. A true mecca for artists, musicians, students, and writers alike, St. Mark’s Place was definitely hopping during happy hour. Gavin’s goal was simple—become hammered enough to remove the haunting images of Emily from his thoughts. He was pretty damn sure a decent amount of bourbon would aid in the exorcism of her from his mind.
Numb.
He wanted to feel absolutely one-hundred percent fucking numb.
As they exited Gavin’s vehicle, Colton came to an abrupt stop. “Now there’s something that might drag Emily from your head,” he said, motioning to a woman who was having car trouble.
Gavin studied her demeanor as she ducked out from under the hood of her vehicle. Holding her cell to her ear, she looked stressed as her frantic caramel-colored eyes locked on Gavin. Beautiful long hair—the same color as those eyes—whipped around in the blowing wind, along with her knee-length skirt. Unsteady in her heels, she tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder as she slammed the hood down.
Colton nudged Gavin’s arm. “Go give her a hand.”
“She’s already on the phone. I’m sure she has someone coming to help her.”
No sooner did Gavin finish his sentence, she approached them with tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do either of you gentlemen have a cell I could use? Mine just went dead.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Gavin replied, digging in his pocket. He handed her his phone.
“Thank you,” she sniffled as she accepted it. She hastily dialed some numbers and sauntered a few feet away from them.
Gavin looked to his brother. “Go get her a tissue or something. I’ll wait here with her.”
Colton sent him a smirk that had him rolling his eyes. As Colton strolled toward the lounge and opened the door, the sounds of a live jazz band playing inside spilled out into the busy city streets.
The woman eventually made her way back to Gavin. “Thank you, I appreciate it. My brother owns a tow company, and he’ll be on his way soon.”
“Not a problem,” he said, tucking his cell in his pocket. “Looks like your head gasket’s blown.”
Once again, she sniffled. She glanced at her car and then back to him. “You can tell without checking it?”
“There’s white smoke coming from the tailpipe. That’s usually a pretty good sign.”
“Oh, are you a mechanic?”
Gavin smiled. “No, I just have a thing for cars.” She sheepishly smiled back. “I sent my brother to get you a tissue.”
“Thank you. I feel so foolish crying like this. It’s just been a tough few weeks.”
While he felt bad for her, he really didn’t have any idea what to say. So Gavin found himself slightly relieved when Colton re-emerged.
Handing her the tissue, Colton asked, “Were you able to get a hold of someone?”