Ayla

“So what is it you do again?” Locke squints across the table at Bostyn, whom I invited on the way over here because I didn’t want to be the third wheel and also because she coincidentally had offered to take me out for drinks tonight after getting my text earlier today.

“I write a dating and relationship advice column for Beauty Mark magazine,” she says, sipping her cocktail. The defensiveness in her tone is palpable.

“You’re doing the Lord’s work,” Locke mocks her, placing his hand gently over hers until she yanks it out from under him.

Bostyn rolls her eyes. These two just met, but they’ve been going at it all night. It didn’t help that within five minutes of sitting down, Bostyn had made fun of his Date Snap app and laid out all the reasons why dating apps are what’s wrong with society today.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole?” Bostyn shoots him a death stare.

“Women like you are the reason guys like me use dating apps,” Locke says, mouth holding a smug smile. “And FYI, dating is just a twenty-first century word for hooking up. Nobody fucking dates anymore. People who use dating apps to find dates are using them wrong.”

“So every single man who uses a dating app is just looking for a quick lay?” she asks.

“Exactly.” Locke huffs, lifting his beer glass when the waitress passes by.

I reach beneath the table, giving her hand a squeeze. She’s tense. He’s got her all worked up, and now I feel bad. I never would’ve invited her along had I known he’d be getting under her skin like this.

The funny part is, he’s exactly her type—minus his colorful personality. He’s tall with a runner’s build, dark hair with a modern haircut, chiseled jaw like Rhett’s with a dimple in the chin. His lashes are dark, framing his pale blue eyes, and he projects an aura of confidence detectable from across the room.

I glance at Rhett after I feel him staring at me, and we exchange looks before he leans over and whispers in my ear.

“Is it wrong that I’m extremely entertained?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper back. “But at least we’ll be going to hell together.”

“You’re delusional. And chauvinistic. And you disgust me.” Bostyn rises from her seat, tossing back what little remains in her martini glass. Better in her stomach than on his supercilious little smirk, I suppose. “Ayla, I love you, but I need to go before I do something really stupid.”

“Wait, no. Bos,” I stand, reaching for her. “Don’t go. He’s doing this on purpose. He thinks it’s funny to annoy you. Look at him. He’s grinning ear to ear.”

We all look at Locke, grinning like a drunken idiot.

“Don’t go because of him,” Rhett adds. “Seriously. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a paltry attempt to get a rise out of you. He does it to me all the time. Doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Hey,” Locke’s smile fades. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“It’s okay, guys. I’m going to go,” Bostyn says. “Ayla, call me tomorrow. Rhett, it was nice seeing you again. Locke, go to hell.”

My jaw falls. I’ve never seen Bostyn like this before. Ever.

“I should go to her,” I say.

“No. Locke should go,” Rhett smacks the back of Locke’s head. “You owe Bostyn an apology.”

Locke rubs his neck, face wincing. “For what? If anything, she owes me an apology. You heard what she was saying about Date Snap. Talk about rude as fuck.”

Rhett glares at his brother, who tosses back the rest of his beer and leaves the table, following after Bostyn.

“Well, that was …” I say, turning to Rhett and taking my seat again. “I don’t know what that was.”

“I think he’s intimidated by her.” Rhett slips his hand into mine.

“Intimidated? By Bostyn?”

“Yeah. He knows she’s smart. And the smart girls don’t sleep with him. Any woman he can’t bag is a threat to his fragile little ego,” he says. “They intimidate him, so he responds by being an enormous asshole. It’s like his defense mechanism.”

“Wow, Carson. That was deep.” I lean closer and he kisses my forehead, cupping my jaw in his hand.

“Let’s get out of here.” His hand slides up my thigh, and I recognize the wicked glint in his pale blue irises.