Striker bellowed his name across the crowded-as-crap bar and Hook spun around. When he spotted Striker, he held up a hand in acknowledgement. Striker waved as he yelled for Hook to join him and some mystery guest.
What the hell? Striker wasn’t one to get overly excited about much of anything. Snagging his frosty beer from the bar top, Hook strolled toward his friend. As he drew closer, he couldn’t help but notice the nicely rounded backside of the woman Striker appeared very happy to talk to.
Damn, whoever she was, she sure looked good from the back. TJ felt a stirring in his groin and hitched his gait a bit, trying to adjust without being overtly obvious about it. Shit, he hoped Striker didn’t want this broad, because that curvy ass was seriously turning him on and he just might be willing to give his brother a run for his money.
When he was within spitting distance, Striker called out, “You are never gonna guess who I ran into, brother.” Placing his hands on the woman’s arms, he turned her so TJ had a full-on view of the front of the woman this time.
Since he was a man, and currently sporting a semi, his gaze landed on her enticing full breasts before taking a slow journey up to her face. He noticed the amused glitter in her eyes before his brain registered whom the emerald green irises he was now staring into belonged to.
“Hello, Hook.” Her soft voice danced along his aroused nerve endings, fueling his desire.
There was only one woman Hook had met with eyes that deep green color. “Marcie? No fuckin’ way!”
Marcie threw back her head and let out a delighted laugh. The cheerful sound caused a further tightening in his pants. He needed to get himself under control. This was Marcie, for Christ’s sake. She practically grew up in Striker’s trailer. He didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of nights as a teen he’d gone to hang at Striker’s, only to find Marcie asleep on a mattress his buddy kept in his room just for her.
Her family life was shit growing up. Her junkie-whore of a mother didn’t have a prayer of knowing who Marcie’s father was. She’d traded sex for money and drugs and got knocked up by some asshole john who probably split town five seconds after he came.
Striker had carried a traumatized Marcie home with him one night after he’d discovered her struggling against one of her mother’s friends. They lived in adjacent trailers and Striker had grown concerned by noises coming from Marcie’s home. Luckily, he burst in before anything could happen, but Marcie had been shaken to the core. And she was ten.
After that, Marcie snuck out of her trailer to sleep at Striker’s nearly every night. She never knew, but Striker called Hook after he’d gotten her settled. The two fifteen-year-old boys beat the shit out of the man that night, and a few others who’d looked a little too closely at her over the years.
She became a surrogate sister to Striker, and Hook helped look out for her through her teenage years as well. Unfortunately, he never felt very brotherly toward her, and the problem only intensified the older she got. A five-year age difference didn’t mean squat now, but when he was twenty and she was fifteen, it sure did.
Now, it appeared nothing had changed, or maybe everything had changed. Marcie was all grown up, not a trace of the too-young girl left in her. “Christ, woman, you are smokin’.”
A charming flush stole over Marcie’s cheeks as Striker burst out laughing. “I told her the same thing.”
Hook shot Striker a look over Marcie’s shoulder that was none too friendly. The other man held up his hands in a pose of surrender as if to say, “she’s all yours.” But she sure as hell wasn’t his. Shit, he hadn’t even seen her in at least a decade, and here he was acting like a caveman in front of his best friend.
“You didn’t exactly get hit with the ugly stick yourself, Hook.” Marcie smiled and he swore he spied an answering desire in her gaze.
“Hey!” Striker’s hands flew to his hips. “What the hell, woman?”
Marcie laughed, the sound stroking Hook’s dick like a soft palm. “Sorry, Striker. You’re very sexy, too.” She patted Striker’s cheek, her tone like she was placating a jealous child. Damn, it was good to see her.
Striker nodded with a pacified smile and Hook had the urge to smack the grin off his smug face. Striker appeared to relish Hook’s discomfort. Bastard.
“So, what are you doing here, Marce?” Hook asked, falling back to the old nickname they’d called her as kids.
“Her mom died,” Striker answered for her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. I know you two weren’t exactly close, but it still sucks.”
“Thanks, Hook.”
“Anything I can do?” He couldn’t tear his attention from her gorgeous face. The same mesmerizing eyes and enticing lips he’d lusted after when he was young only grew more alluring with age. He needed to snap out of it before people started to notice him acting like a bitch in heat.
“There is,” she said with a smile. “You can join me and Striker for a drink, or ten, as he put it.”
“That, I can certainly do.” A drink, and if he was a lucky son of a bitch, maybe something more, because Marcie wasn’t a kid anymore and he’d wanted her for far too long.