I had made a lot of dumb decisions in my life.

A lot.

I could be honest about it, mostly because I had learned valuable lessons from each screwup in my life.

Don’t waste your time expecting people to change, and if you think you might be starting your period, don’t risk it and leave your house without a tampon.

Honestly, the list was pretty freaking long, but those were my favorite lessons.

But as I sat there at the bar, at an empty table, all by myself, I accepted the fact that coming here tonight could easily go down as one of those dumb decisions. Dumber than when I’d bought clothes a size smaller than what I usually wore to “motivate me to lose weight.” They were still in my closet with the tags on. The problem with this dumb decision was that I doubted there was some lesson to be learned from it.

Nobody had forced me to come to the bar. No one had whispered into my ear, “Luna, ruin your entire day by contemplating the idea of asking Rip to cash in your favor. Rush through work, head to the bar to sort-of celebrate his birthday, and then act like everything was fine.”

I was going to ask Rip for a favor.

A favor he technically did owe. A favor he usually asked me about every single day we worked together, unless it was one of those mornings that had me breaking up an argument between him and Mr. Cooper and then we didn’t see each other the rest of the day.

I didn’t want to ask though.

I didn’t want to ask him for anything.

The problem was, I didn’t want to go to my grandmother’s funeral alone. Just the idea of going by myself made me more nauseous than asking Rip for something. But the near panic I got at the idea of having my siblings go with me trumped everything else by far, and asking Mr. Cooper or one of my friends to go with me and possibly see up close who I was related to…

No. Just, no.

It was just a trip to San Antonio. Nine hours total. He would just have to sit there and possibly give people that death glare he’d perfected before he had started working at CCC.

It was nothing to worry about. If anything, Rip should be happy this was all I was going to ask of him. Shouldn’t he? Maybe he’d be in a better mood, not having to ask me the same question only to get the same answer all the time.

He’d wanted to get rid of this loose end between us from the very beginning. He had never hidden that. Not once. So I was going to do him a favor and get it over with after so freaking long.

Maybe he’d even thank me.

Yeah, right. I’d lost my mind. I was seriously going to ask Rip for a favor? Ripley the same man who, based on the scarring on his knuckles that marred the letters he had tattooed on them, had more than likely gotten into more fights in his life than a professional MMA fighter? I was going to ask him to go with me to my grandmother’s funeral so that he’d hopefully stop my family from trying to talk to me?

I was pathetic. I really was. Just like my dad had said for so much of my childhood.

Sad, stupid-ass.

That memory came out of freaking nowhere.

I stomped it back down into its little box.

I was having a good day. My sister had put a piece of cherry pie into my lunch, and that was something great about today. I had gotten all of my work done and then some.

I was happy. I was loved. I had everything and more I could have wanted.

I could do it. I had done scarier things than asking for something. I was past all this crap.

That’s exactly what I was going to think to myself as I sat there, alone, watching Rip at the bar as he got a drink, and waiting for more of my coworkers to show up because so far no one else had gotten there yet even though I’d been the second to last one to leave. Knowing most of my coworkers, they either wouldn’t come or they were at home pre-gaming, aka having beers so they wouldn’t spend as much drinking at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time they did that.

The good thing with me was, I didn’t drink that much in the first place. I didn’t like the idea of being in a car with a stranger drunk or even slightly out of it. Plus, there was also that worry that I had always carried inside of me about how I would act if I was under the influence of anything.

Was I really going to ask him?

My phone buzzed from inside my purse. I took it out and saw my best friend’s name on the screen, and an idea came to me. If Rip told me to fuck off, I could always tell her to ask one of her friends to go with me. One of them would say yes. I wouldn’t care what someone I didn’t know thought.

There was always a plan B.

I didn’t hesitate texting her back. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do but look around and stress.

I realized right then that I had been so busy I hadn’t texted her all day.

A wave of sadness and guilt had me holding my breath before I kept typing.

Was my head starting to hurt or was I imagining it?

Gripping my phone in my hand, I glanced up and took in the man ten feet away. I studied his wide back, no longer covered by a gray shirt but instead by a deep green Henley that hugged the flat expanse of his stomach, every notch of his spine, and curve of his lateral muscles, yet managed to still cling to his waist. He was plain big all over. Everywhere. I’d watched him enough to know. I could live the rest of my life and not forget any part of what he looked like.

I sighed, but I still didn’t look away. He’d already been standing at the bar for at least five minutes, either still waiting for his drink or pretending like I wasn’t the only person from work here.

My phone buzzed again.

I bit the inside of my cheek and typed my response.

I knew I should tell her that I was thinking about asking Rip, but she didn’t know about the favor. She had heard, better than anyone, just what I thought about him. It wouldn’t make sense to her why a man who barely spoke to me would go with me back home.

I had buried myself in a lie by not telling the truth, and now there was no way to get out of it without having to explain the whole thing, and as much as I loved and cared for Lenny DeMaio, it wasn’t my business to tell her what had happened.

Rip and I were the only two people in the world who needed to know the truth.

Next family funeral. Like there was someone else in my biological family other than my sisters who I would miss or go visit when they were gone. How sad was that?

When I’d been growing up, I would have done freaking anything for a dad to tuck me in. For a mom who would hug me and put Band-Aids on my boo-boos. For an older brother to protect me when people were mean. For my dad to play with me. For the person I had called my mom for years to hug me. For my older brother to just pay attention to me.

I had a faint memory of writing a letter to Santa when I’d still been holding out hope that he would finally be able to find my house so I could ask for things. But Santa never took my letters. He never answered any of my requests.

Christmas as a kid had included my uncle’s family coming over for whatever fast food whoever was sober enough to realize we needed to eat, brought over, and so much beer and alcohol, everyone over the age of fifteen got drunk and started arguing. There was always at least one fistfight or two and at least one drug. There were never any gifts. A single tree or ornament. Or any love. Christmas hadn’t been anything like what movies showed.

For a long, long time, I would have done anything if the family I had at that point would have just been… a fraction of the people I wanted them to be.

But they hadn’t been.

A lot of people didn’t have that. I wasn’t alone, and that knowledge had helped the older I’d gotten. It still hurt, and part of me still couldn’t help but wish…

I sighed.

Then one little sister had come, and another, and then Lily… and they had been everything I could have hoped for. It probably helped that their mom didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, but they had been my little people. They had given me their love, and I had taken it all.

I had done my best to make sure at least my sisters had a tiny little something on Christmas Day from money I stole from whoever was dumb enough to leave their purse or wallet lying around. A hairbrush from the dollar store. Some barrettes. Maybe it wasn’t anything flashy, but it was something, and none of them had ever complained.

That’s why I was going to go to San Antonio. So they wouldn’t. So even Grandma Genie wouldn’t be alone with people she hadn’t been able to stand either while she’d been alive.

My best friend wrote me back immediately, saving me from going down that path of useless wishes that were never going to come true.

That solidified plan B, even if I hated asking for favors almost as much as I hated relying on people.

My only consolation with Rip was that he owed me in the first place. At least he thought he owed me. It also helped that I couldn’t think of a single person, a big MMA fighter or not, who was as scary or intimidating as Lucas Ripley was. That was the truth.

The fact that I didn’t mind looking at him, and that I enjoyed him when he wasn’t grumbling at me, was only a tiny factor. Tiny, tiny.

Only idiots liked men who they had no chance with.

But this was my curse—to love and care for people who didn’t love or care for me back. At least not the way I wanted them to.

With Rip, I’d accepted what our relationship was from the beginning.

Out of all the men in the world that my heart could go whoosh, whoosh, whoosh over from time to time when I didn’t have it reined in, out of all of the men who could have the ability to make me master looking out of the corner of my eye, it had to be one of my bosses who had that effect on me.

Of course it had to be.

My not-so-very nice boss.

Because it was my curse.

I was so dumb.

Holding my phone on my lap, I glanced up, even though a giant part of me didn’t want to, but all I saw was the same thing I’d seen moments before. A man, who I knew was six foot four, wedged onto a tall stool. A man with deep brown hair with a hint of silvery gray threaded through it. A man with a face that was usually set into an aggravated expression or an angry one… except when there was good news that was work-related. Well over two hundred pounds poured over a frame that was all solid. Huge thighs, big butt, forearms the size of my biceps if not bigger, a chest that could double as a bed for a medium-sized dog….

Buck up, Luna, just ask him, my conscience told me. He owes you. He owes you big time. Sort of.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to tell my dumb heart to calm down. I tried to tell my eyes to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anyone else.

But the heart wants what it wants. And it’s scared of what it wants to be scared of, no matter how reasonable you try to be about it.

Like a fearless but total moron.

The vibrating from my lap had me glancing down at the screen to see the last message that had come through.

That icky, thick feeling flooded my stomach again, covering over the frustration I felt with myself for being attracted to Rip in the first place. But if there was something that could make me forget about that, it was the guilt I felt for walking out of my grandmother’s life so many years ago and never seeing her again.

We had both known it was the only way things could be between us, but it still didn’t help me feel any better.

That much, Lenny did know. She and her family had been there for me when I had taken my siblings. She knew almost as much as I let anyone know, minus the Coopers. It wasn’t everything. No one knew about all the little pieces, but it was a lot.

Two seconds went by before I got a response.

I smiled down at my phone.

I chanced another glance at the man and held back a sigh.

I almost laughed at the first comment and definitely laughed at the second one. Rip did look like he’d done time. That was unfair, but it was the truth.

For all I knew, he probably had.

Then again, I was probably judging him by a face he had no say in. For all I knew, he had a marshmallow heart and rescued and rehabilitated small animals when he wasn’t at work. Deep down, he might have a caring and loving disposition that he only shared around very few people—people who had won his trust.

You never knew.

The idea of that put a small smile on my face and kept it there as I typed a message back, leaving the first comment alone.

She wasn’t the only one preparing herself to cry this weekend, and that made me happy for some reason.

I was still smiling over Lenny’s text when Rip turned from where he was at the bar, holding a glass with some dark liquid inside, and instantly locked his gaze on me.

I didn’t hesitate smiling wider before setting my phone back on the table, even as my heart started thumping at the fact that I was about to ask him for something.

I didn’t want to. I had never wanted to. I had planned on never asking him for anything.

But…

Well…

I would ask him for this.

I had to. For my sisters. For me, because I really was nervous going alone back to the place I’d grown up.

Almost like he could sense what was going on inside of me, his eyes narrowed just a little, just barely enough for me to be able to tell that he had. And because of that, I made my smile go as big as possible, even flashing him teeth. He already had a feeling that something was going on. There was no hiding it, unfortunately. I was a decent liar until people got to know me.

Rip stood there for a second watching me with those heavy, dark brown eyebrows low over his blue-green eyes. By the time another second had passed, he had taken a step forward. Then another foot went ahead. And another.

He was coming toward me in his tight long-sleeved green shirt, showing off more tattoos on his neck than I had ever, ever seen in the years we had known each other. There was a skull—an actual skull—tattooed over his Adam’s apple with lines and shapes spread out along the sides of it. And I was thinking to myself that I wanted to change my freaking mind about the favor… but I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I had done scarier things than this. I would do scarier things than this. Fear, I thought, was more like a hallucinogenic. It was all in your mind, and there was nothing to really be scared of as long as you knew and expected the worst and the best.

“Hi, Birthday Man,” I managed to get out, still grinning at him with my stupid heart beating in my throat even though I told it not to, trying my best not to look too hard at the very dark ink permanently etched into his skin.

Rip slid me a look out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the chair in front of mine out. He took the seat. Right there. Right by me.

Okay. I could play it cool. I could take it easy.

“You been here long?” he asked in that grumbled, deep voice that constantly sounded irritated… even now.

I shook my head. “Just about twenty minutes,” I replied. “You?”

He made a noise that sounded like a grunt as he raised the glass of whatever he was drinking to his lips and took a sip.

Well, it wasn’t like it really mattered how long he’d been around.

“Is anyone else coming?” I asked him when he didn’t say anything after setting his glass back down on the table. I’d overheard a couple of the guys talking about Rip’s half-hearted invitation when I had taken a bathroom break, but I hadn’t heard more than that.

His gaze hadn’t left mine from the moment he had spotted me, and it didn’t go anywhere as he shrugged and said, “Doubt it.”

I must have made a face because he added, casually, “I’m not exactly anybody’s favorite, Luna.”

The smile fell right off my mouth, and I couldn’t help but frown at him. At the harshness of his words. At the… fact-like nature of them. That wasn’t very nice for him to assume. That wasn’t very nice to assume at all, and it bothered me… even if it was true that Mr. Cooper was my favorite person at the shop. And I was his. And Miguel’s—

Crap.

“I’m sure—“ I started before getting cut off.

“I’m not,” he told me, tapping his short fingernails against the glass. Rip tipped his chin up a millimeter, giving me a slightly better view of the shading tucked up against his jawline. He swallowed, everything about his body language saying that he was telling me these words in this way because it wasn’t a big deal to him. He didn’t care. Why should he? His body said.

His next words confirmed it. “I’m not around to be anybody’s friend.”

All righty then.

I wanted to tell him something that would make it seem that it wasn’t like anyone hated him or disliked him.

Most of the guys were just… wary.

Even I was wary, and he didn’t scare or intimidate me… unless I screwed up.

But I didn’t know what to say to that comment. I hated liars as much as I hated aggressive drunk people and cooked carrots. So I did the only thing I could think of: I smiled at him and shrugged. He didn’t look even a little put out or hurt by what he’d been saying. Who was I to make it a big deal if he claimed he didn’t care? “Did you like your cake?”

All he did was tip his chin down as he nailed me with that intense, bright gaze, his fingers still wrapped around the nearly full glass.

And something told me “Do it now, Luna.”

It was now or never.

I gave him a big smile. “Hey, Rip?”

He watched me as he lifted his drink and took another sip of it.

I guess that was going to be his version of saying yes.

Screw it. Do it.

I kept the smile on my face as I rushed out, “Iwanttocashinmyfavor.”

He didn’t say anything for so long, I thought for sure he would end up telling me to fuck off, that he’d only been joking all along.

And it was right then, with the j-word at the front of my brain that I realized how stupid that thought was.

Rip joking? In my dreams.

If he was going to tell me no, he was going to need to say it. It wouldn’t bother me. It wouldn’t offend me. I’d move on and find someone else to go with me.

But what he said instead was “You wanna cash in your favor?”

The “yes” out of me was croaked and dumb-sounding, but if he didn’t understand it, my nod would have to be enough.

Rip… Rip just sat there, lowering his glass to the table. He let out a deep breath that I barely managed to hear. A muscle in his cheek twitched. Then he just said one word, and it wasn’t the one I’d been expecting. The one I wanted, but not anticipated. “Okay.”

Okay?

That was it?

I’d learned as a kid never to give someone a reason to second-guess their answer if you had already gotten the one you wanted. So, all right. Maybe I didn’t trust how easily the answer had come, but I was going to work with it. “I need you to go with me to a funeral.”

The only sign I had that he’d heard me was his nostrils flaring. Then, he blinked. Lucas Ripley sat back in the stool, that tight shirt curving over his impressive chest, and pressed his lips together. His sentence was slow. “You want me to pretend we’re getting married or something?”

Yeah. My mouth opened. Then it closed.

It was my turn to stare at him. My turn to press my lips together.

Then, and only then, did I tip my face up to the ceiling and freaking laugh.

I slapped my palm over my eyes, leaned back in my stool just like he had done, and I laughed even more.

I was so caught up in it that I almost missed out on the way he barked, “What?”

Did he think I wanted us to pretend we were engaged?

I laughed even more, dropping my palm but only to drag the back of my hand across my eyes.

“What the fuck is so funny?” he growled.

I couldn’t help but grin at him, at this moment, at myself, at everything, and I couldn’t help but keep laughing as I said, “No, I don’t want you to pretend we’re engaged.”

I burst out laughing again, looking up at the ceiling as I did, before somehow managing to get out, “Why… why would I want that?”

I would swear on my future children that his face instantly went red. If someone had asked me if I thought he was physically capable of blushing, I would have thought they were nuts. But there it was: red on his cheeks. Even on his nose.

On anyone else, it would have been kind of adorable because he was scowling at the same time.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking.” I laughed again, genuinely trying to stop but not capable of it because his face was still red, and I was eating it up. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that. It was straight out of a rom-com,” I pretty much cackled, imagining him watching one at home, smiling to himself.

My boss full-on frowned. “What’s a rom-com?”

Like he didn’t know what a rom-com was. Sure. I could let it go. For now.

I took one look at his pink-red face and lost it all over again. Pretend we’re getting married. Who would have known that Rip would make me laugh when I’d been so stressed about asking him for my favor all freaking day?

He didn’t even let me enjoy it because his expression went I’m gonna kill you-like as I cracked up at his expense. “All you want is me to go to a funeral with you then?”

And there was the reminder of what I was asking of him. Why I was asking.

The smile and the laughter instantly left my face and my heart when I nodded, the severity of it stripping all that joy away. “Yes, please.”

His eyes didn’t narrow. He even lost the serial killer face. He just watched me. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t trust me or didn’t believe this was what I was asking him, but I didn’t really care.

I just stared right back at him, one single memory flipping out of me as I thought about why I had never planned on going back home.

I’m gonna fucking kill you, Luna! You ever come back, and I will literally fucking kill you, you little piece of shit! I can’t fucking believe you!

It was enough to make me swallow. Enough to feel guilt for all of a split second before I squashed it with the heel of my work boots. I had no reason to feel bad.

Rip waited, thinking who knows what before he gave me a brisk nod, like it was a business transaction we had finally come to an agreement to after a lot of haggling.

Which I guess it was.

I had done something for him, and now he was doing something right back for me. It was what he had offered. It had been his idea.

But then he asked me something surprising. “You sure? That’s what you want your favor to be?”

I nodded gravely. “I didn’t want to ask you for anything, but, yeah, that’s what I want.” I gave him a smile that made my teeth hurt from how hard they were pressing down on each other at the memory I had just pushed right back out of my brain. “Please.”

I was doing this for Grandma Genie. I was doing this for Thea and Kyra and Lily. I was going through with it because doing the right thing was hardly ever the easiest thing to do.

This handsome, hard-faced man, who I barely knew anything about after three years, kept watching me carefully. He sipped on his drink for a moment and then two. He slid me another narrow-eyed gaze as he did it, but it wasn’t a mean one, or even an annoyed one.

“Okay,” was Rip’s reply.

Oh.

“Okay,” I breathed out, relief like I couldn’t put into words sliding right over my entire body. Just. Like. That.

Okay.

“Great,” I told him, jumping on it before he could change his mind. “Thank you.”

Those colorful eyes strayed to one of my ears and lingered there for a moment as he leaned back in his seat. “When?”

“Thursday,” I answered, tempted to reach up and touch my earring, but I didn’t. “I’m going to need the day off. We’re going to need the day off.”

He nodded again, looking so at ease it was like I hadn’t asked him for anything.

“It’s in San Antonio.”

That had him grimacing, and I wondered why. But when he didn’t complain or change his mind, I kept my mouth shut. If he didn’t want to do it now for whatever reason, I wasn’t going to rub it in and make him change his mind. There was always plan B and plan C.

“One day?” he asked, his voice sounding off after that initial grimace.

“Yes.” There was no way in hell I wanted to stay in San Antonio longer than I needed to. Even one night would be way too much. One day felt like too much.

I didn’t admit any of that though.

He only tipped his chin down, moved his gaze to the empty spot at the table, and then glanced back at my face. I almost missed the way his nostrils flared again. “Thursday then.”

This Thursday. It hadn’t hit me just how soon that was until right then.

“Yeah,” I agreed, hoping he couldn’t hear how much I was dreading it already.

Before I could say another word, or he could, a hand landed on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

I didn’t need to look over to know it was one of my coworkers.

I was a little surprised when I heard, “Happy birthday,” in Mr. Cooper’s deep voice.

With the exception of maybe two or three times, Mr. C had never come out with us before. The only times he had were for Owen’s bachelor party, which wasn’t a party at all because he hadn’t wanted to piss off his lady, and to celebrate when another coworker had quit after finishing college and getting a job as an engineer.

Besides that… never.

And then another voice came.

“Happy birthday, Ripley,” came the feminine voice that I knew belonged to Mr. Cooper’s wife.

If I wouldn’t have moved my gaze back over to Rip, I would have missed the way that, with each word that came out of Mrs. Cooper’s mouth—Lydia was her name—the harder Rip’s face became. It had gone from pleasantly blank while we had been making arrangements to an instantly guarded expression when Mr. Cooper had spoken… and then with Mrs. Cooper’s words, his jaw became more defined. The tendons at his neck became more pronounced. Then he slowly sat up in the chair he had just begun relaxing into.

Ripley had never been a comfortable, easygoing person.

But he had never looked the way he did right then either. At least never in front of me, and I had seen him pissed off and angry with the other shop guys before.

Not even when I had made him mad about screwing up the color on that Thunderbird had he made a face so cold.

But this… this wasn’t anger. It wasn’t fury or disappointment. At least not exactly. I was familiar with those expressions.

It looked like a million different emotions wrapped inside a body ready to burst at the seams.

He had never looked at Mr. Cooper like that before, even when he didn’t know I was watching.

There was no way Mrs. Cooper had ever done anything to him. She was one of the nicest women I had ever met. She was loving and caring and warm. She had given me countless hugs and made me a birthday cake every year we had known each other.

Mr. Cooper had called her a saint before, and I believed it. I had lived with her for years. I’d spent almost every holiday together with her since I’d started working for CCC.

If he was wonderful, she was just as wonderful, and I loved them both.

So when I heard the deep breath that Rip let out, I didn’t know what to think. He sounded… he sounded like he’d seen a storm and decided to put down shutters all over himself. From us.

I watched as his eyes went from Mr. Cooper to Mrs. Cooper and then back to the older man, his Adam’s apple bulging more than I had ever seen. Then he said, “Thank you” like someone was torturing him to get the words out.

I didn’t need to glance at the Coopers to feel the tension on their end.

It became even stronger as Ripley grabbed his drink from the table, put it up to his mouth, and tossed it back, not even wincing as he did.

In one swift move, he shoved his stool back and muttered, “Thanks for the birthday cake, Luna. I’ll see you at work,” talking to me and Mr. Cooper, obviously.

But he didn’t look at either one of us.

He didn’t look at Mrs. Cooper either.

One exhale later, he was gone.

Well.

That was freaking weird.