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prickly heat is on the back of my neck. It makes me angry.

“You think they get tired of playing the same songs all the time?” My eyes land on a couple drunkenly dancing all over each other on the dance floor.

“Not if they’re getting paid.” My brother crosses his arms and studies me. “Something’s on your mind. Spill it.”

Exhaling deeply, I signal for a fresh beer. “I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“That sounds dangerous.” He shifts on his stool, exhaling a laugh.

I study our reflections in the mirror behind the bar. His dark hair is a bit long and shaggy around his face. A scruff of beard covers his cheeks. I’m fairer by contrast, a little taller, leaner, but we’ve got the same blue eyes. He’s only a year older than me, and he’s got it all figured out.

“I was thinking about second chances. How’d you do it?”

His blue eyes turn serious. “You know how close I came to losing everything. I got lucky.”

What we went through to get here filters through my memory. “Luck and hope.” That provokes a faint smile, but I’m not feeling it. “I think I used up all my luck.”

“How so?”

“After that porn shit, I was pretty much DOA. If it weren’t for luck, I’d never have turned my acting career around.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t call that luck. You trusted the wrong guy and got screwed.”

“It was luck. Same as what happened to you was luck.” I lift my beer and take a long drink. Thinking back, I realize just how much luck I used up to get as far as I did.

I’m going to have to find another way.

His brow furrows. “But this new part will lead to more, right? Isn’t that how it works out there?”

“I’m not talking about work, though. I’m talking about personal shit.”

“Have you talked to Dad?”

Bitterness burns in my throat, but he’s not pushing me. His tone is completely neutral.

“No.”

Lifting his chin, he nods. “Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.”

“I’ve heard that.” Turning, I put my elbows on the bar thinking about all the ways that motherfucker screwed us.

He didn’t help J.R. when he needed it. He didn’t help me. Hell, he did just the opposite. He tried to make off with our trust fund. My jaw clenches, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive what he did.

“Jesse said you wanted to help with his football team?”

“It’s more like Jesse wants me to help with his football team.”

“I wouldn’t mind having an assistant.” J.R. gives me a smug grin like he’s just waiting to bust my balls.

“Send me the job description of what being your assistant entails, and I’ll let you know.”

He laughs, polishing off his beer. “Practice starts next week. You’re welcome to come out and join us.”

“Maybe I will.” My voice is quiet as I contemplate the reason I asked him here. “I’m thinking about a girl.”

“Anybody I know?”

The answer dies on my lips when I see the door open, and a pretty blonde steps into the bar. She’s in a coral-pink crop-top that shows off her stomach, lined with a navel ring, and tight-fitting blue jeans. I don’t remember a navel ring. It’s delicate on her tight skin and heat flashes below my belt.

Her hair is like it always was, short with little curls around her cheeks and ears, and her lips are so full and shiny. Seeing her this way is a punch in the stomach. She looks so much the same, like no time has passed. My chest tightens, and the air is too thick to breathe.

“Daisy.”

I don’t even realize I said it out loud until my brother answers. “Daisy’s here?”

Shit. I clear my throat, swiping up my beer and taking a drink. I nod towards the door before turning to the bar again. “Isn’t that her?”

What’s she doing here alone? Shouldn’t Chad the fucking super cop be with her? What’s wrong with that guy?

“Want me to call her over?” J.R. studies my face like I’m a book and he’s reading everything happening in my chest. “Is this why you wanted me to come with you tonight?”

“No. Stop looking at her.”

He exhales a chuckle, doing what I asked. “When did you start acting like a high school girl?”

My voice is low, controlled. “I thought she was out of town.”

“Looks like she’s on a date.” Fuck being cool. My face snaps around to see what he’s talking about.

She moves casually through the crowd to where a guy with a dark mullet and a fucking gold-toothed smile waits for her at the bar. He’s wearing a black tee that stretches over his chest, and his arms are covered in pretty intense ink, snakes and skulls. The guy’s skinny but cut, and he looks more like a biker than a cop.

“What the hell?” My fists clench as his hand moves across her lower back, pulling her to his chest. Chunky silver rings cover his fingers.

J.R. exhales a low whistle. “It’s been a while, but I didn’t think people changed that much.”

“They don’t.” I finish my beer in one long drink, setting it down with a hard clank on the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

The blood is surging in my veins and I push off the bar. If this guy is a sheriff, I’m a forest ranger. I’m ready to break that hand touching her skin and send this wannabe biker asshole packing.

A strong hand grips my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. “Hang on, little brother. What are you doing?” J.R.’s voice is low and commanding at my ear. “You can’t barge over there like this.”

I’m breathing so hard my nostrils flare, and fire is shooting in my veins. “That guy is no good.”

“Scout.” J.R. steps in front of me, between me and them. “You don’t know him. You haven’t talked to Daisy in years. The last thing you need right now is a bar fight.”

“I’m not going to fight.” Yet. My jaw is tight, and I’m about to move my brother’s hand

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