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  Brady rubbed the side of his jaw. This was gonna be a long dinner if Leslie stayed sober. Then again, if he got drunk, he might just talk about his ex the entire time.

  "So where do you work?" Brady asked, hoping to change the subject.

  "Sweetie Pies." Leslie whipped out a magnificent smile. "I have an employee discount, so if you ever have a sweet tooth, I can hook you up."

  Brady just wanted to be hooked up with a drink and some ass. "I'll keep that in mind."

  He frowned when Leslie picked up his menu and cursed as Darius approached with their drinks.

  "Hey, Leslie," Darius said as he set the drinks down. "Long time no see."

  Leslie gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, long time."

  Darius winked. "Let me know if you need anything."

  Brady got the feeling these two knew each other on a more personal level. Leslie's deep blush was a huge clue. Darius flirting with Leslie while Leslie was clearly with Brady was a violation of the bro code, though. Brady scowled when the bartender looked his way.

  "Just being friendly," Darius said before walking away.

  Leslie cleared his throat and smoothed his hand over the menu after setting it down. "I'm not that hungry, so I'll just take a salad. Ian never liked when I ate too much."

  Brady groaned, lifted his hand, and flagged down Coral. When the waiter approached, he asked, "Ready to order?"

  "Give me another whiskey."

  Coral looked at Brady's untouched glass. Brady lifted it and swallowed the liquid down, then slammed it on the table as he exhaled. "Make it a double this time."

  Leslie ground his palms into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm screwing this up. I don't mean to harp on about Ian. I guess I wasn't ready to jump back into the dating pool."

  "How long have you two been apart?"

  "Since this afternoon." Leslie dropped his hands. "I came home and caught him in bed with another man."

  Brady's jaw dropped as he sat forward. "You just broke up with him and now you're here trying to get laid?"

  His chances of bedding Leslie had dropped to zero. No way was Brady gonna hit that when the guy was fresh from a breakup. With his luck, Leslie would cry the entire time. Brady grimaced at the thought.

  "It was Jimmy's idea!" Leslie waved a hand toward his friend's table. "I didn't want to come, but he refused to let me stay home and wallow in pity."

  The shit Brady got himself into. He regretted approaching Leslie's table. He should have just stuck to his plan of getting drunk and going home. Now he had to sit through dinner while Leslie fought not to cry.

  When Coral returned with Brady's drink, Brady said, "He'll have a salad. I'm not hungry."

  The sooner he ended this fiasco, the better. Brady wasn't an asshole, and he was sympathetic to Leslie's situation, but fuck if he wanted to sit there and listen to the guy mourn his loss.

  Leslie stood and raced from the tavern. Brady wasn't sure if he should go after the male. He looked toward Jimmy's table to see Leslie's friend roll his eyes before he got up and went after him.

  Hennessey glared at Brady as he crossed the room. "I was that close to closing the deal. What the hell did you say to make the guy run out of here crying?"

  Brady grabbed his whiskey and swallowed it down. "Not a damn thing. He just broke up with his boyfriend and I was supposed to be his rebound sex, but I guess it's just me and my hand tonight."

  After tossing a few bills on the table, Brady headed toward the door, his mood worse than when he'd walked in. Mercury might be a small town, but he prayed like hell he never ran into Leslie again.

  Chapter Two

  Leslie had never been so embarrassed in his life. He wanted to keep running until he passed Mercury's town limits. Had he actually cried on a date?

  I'm such a loser.

  "Slow down," Jimmy panted a few feet behind him. "I'm not in shape to chase you."

  A stitch worked its way around Leslie's side, forcing him to stop running. He looked back and grimaced when he saw that Grizzly's was still in his sight. Brady walked out and headed toward a dark gray pickup.

  Leslie turned back around, hoping Brady didn't look his way. If he never saw the guy again, it would be too soon—although he would probably dream about that nice body, those amazing blue eyes, and that deep, sexy voice.

  "Look, I'm sorry." Jimmy grabbed his hand. "I was only trying to cheer you up. I didn't mean to throw you back into the dating game hours after your breakup."

  Leslie was a complete mess. He wanted to cry over what Ian had done to him. He wanted to go home but didn't want to spend the rest of the night dwelling on the images of his ex in bed with another man. And he definitely wanted to hit the Rewind button so he didn't fall apart in front of a stranger. His emotions were out of whack and Leslie was starting to feel like a basket case.

  "Let's just walk," Leslie said. "I need some fresh air."

  "Okay, but not too far. My car is parked at the tavern and I don't want to walk a mile back just to get it."

  Leslie stopped and waved toward the tavern. "Go get your car. I'll be fine on my own."

  Leslie appreciated Jimmy’s efforts, but he wanted to clear his head, shake Ian off, and work through the chaos in his head. "I'm not leaving you," Jimmy argued. "A best friend is there for his buddy."

  "And this buddy just wants time to himself." He gently shoved Jimmy. "Go, I said I'll be fine."

  Jimmy eyed him. "Are you sure?"

  Leslie wasn't sure about anything, but he knew that Jimmy hated to walk. He complained anytime they had to hoof it past two blocks. Leslie didn't mind since he was used to it, but not having a car in a small town truly sucked at times. Thankfully he didn't live too far from the town square, and his walks to work weren't so bad.

  "I'm sure," Leslie said. "Besides, I might stop in at work and see if Frank needs any help."

  Jimmy crinkled his nose. "Dude, it's your day off. Why would you go in to work?"

  To keep myself busy so I don't think of Ian. "Just go."

  With a shrug, Jimmy walked away. Leslie strode down Main Street, sucking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly as he resisted calling his brother to beat the snot out of Ian. Leslie might have, but Scott lived in Slidell, and he wasn't going to have his older brother make the journey just to beat up a guy who wasn't worth the effort.

  But it would have been nice to see Ian get the crap beaten out of him for being such a horrible human being.

  Leslie shoved his hands into his front pockets as he walked past the thrift store. He watched a few cars drive down the street, smiled at a couple as they walked by, then picked up an empty soda bottle and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

  He was almost to work when he froze. Ian stepped onto the sidewalk with the guy he'd been fucking. They held hands and walked into the bakery a few doors down, apparently unaware Leslie was standing there.

  In truth, Leslie had hoped Ian had fallen apart after their breakup. He wanted the jerk to suffer as much as Leslie did. But Ian looked just fine. In fact, the bastard had smiled at his lover when they looked at one another.

  He glanced at Ian's precious Camaro and considered slashing the tires. It would be no less than Ian deserved. But his thoughts of revenge were interrupted when a dark gray truck pulled in next to Ian's cherry-red car.

  Brady got out and headed into the bakery. You've got to be kidding me. Leslie looked both ways before crossing the street. Going in to work was now out of the question. The two men he never wanted to see again were in the same location.

  If that wasn't fate shitting on him, Leslie didn't know what was.

  Jimmy zipped past him in his beat-up Mazda. There was more rust on the car than metal. The red finish had faded long ago, and the front-passenger-side tire was a donut. There was a crack across the windshield, and the car shook whenever Jimmy came to a stop.

  Leslie rolled his eyes. Maybe telling Jimmy to go had been premature. He didn't want to be on the streets where Ian or Brady could see him. A quick getaway
would have been nice, but it wasn’t in the cards for him.

  Leslie kept his head low as he hurried down the street, moving past Leopards Lounge as fast as he could. A few guys were hanging out front and eyed Leslie as he passed.

  "Looking for a good time, handsome?" one of them called.

  Leslie kept on going. He'd heard about the lounge, and he wasn't interested in what went on inside. He was a traditional guy and a strip club and/or escort service—probably both—was something he wasn't into.

  When he reached the barbershop, Leslie paused and looked back at Sweetie Pies. Ian's car and Brady's truck were still parked in front of the bakery. Then Ian walked out, his lover's hand in his, and Brady right behind them. They stopped and Ian said something, then chuckled. Brady smiled.

  Could my life get any worse?

  He shouldn't have asked himself that question because the prick with Ian leaned in close and kissed Ian before cuddling up to him. Instead of wanting to cry, Leslie saw red. Ian's lover was wearing one of Leslie's shirts!

  As badly as he wanted to march across the street and pop the lover in his eye, he stayed rooted to the spot. Leslie wasn't a fighter, and more than likely would get his ass kicked. And that realization pissed him off further.

  Then Brady looked his way. Leslie wished the ground would open up and swallow him. His evening just kept getting worse. Especially when Brady waved at Ian, then crossed the street, heading right for him. Ian glanced his way, his brows rising before he scowled and led his slut toward his car.

  Brady reached the sidewalk just as Leslie walked away. He didn't want to embarrass himself any more than he already had.

  "Leslie."

  Leslie spun and held up a hand. "I'm really sorry I acted like a blubbering nutjob, but I just want to go home and burn my bed."

  Brady cocked his head to the side and stared quizzically at him. "Getting a new bed might be a better solution."

  True, since Leslie had let his renters insurance lapse. Besides, he was pretty sure the fire marshal would know the blaze was set on purpose, and the owner of the house would sue Leslie, and why in the hell was he thinking about all that? "Was there something you wanted?"

  A gleam of lust entered Brady's blue eyes. Leslie made a noise in the back of his throat as he turned and started walking again. "That boat has sailed," he said without looking over his shoulder.

  Sex wasn't on Leslie's mind. Revenge, now that was a different story. He had an urge to stomp to Ian's apartment and damage the man's car, but as nutty as Leslie was acting, he wasn't really an unstable guy.

  He was just someone nursing a broken heart. Was it really a broken heart if he’d never loved Ian? Betrayal. That was a better definition of what he felt. Humiliated. That fit, too. Livid. That emotion was a given.

  Leslie spun and marched back to Brady, glaring as Brady eyed him. "You still want to have sex?" he snapped.

  Brady frowned. "Not sure I want to have angry sex with you."

  "Please, who're you kidding?" Leslie grabbed Brady's hand and pulled him across the street, but he was sure Brady let him, considering the guy was all muscles and could have easily pulled his hand free. "Take me to my place and I'm all yours."

  Halfway across the street, a phone rang. Leslie released Brady and watched as the guy pulled his cell from his back pocket. "Give me a sec," he told Leslie.

  Leslie walked to Brady's truck and waited by the passenger door. When Brady joined him, he was shaking his head. "I'll have to get a rain check. Something came up."

  Leslie closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Fine, whatever." He wished he could go back to bed and start his day over.

  "I'm being serious."

  Leslie waved Brady off as he headed to the bakery door, his plans of fucking Ian right out of his system shot to hell.

  * * * *

  After stripping the bed and throwing the sheets in the washer, then flipping the mattress over, Leslie sat on his back porch with a cup of iced tea and stared at the stars. He'd sleep on the couch tonight because the memory of what Ian had done was too fresh, but come morning, Leslie would pull himself together and forget that prick ever existed.

  He jumped and his heartbeat sped when his back door opened. "You scared the shit out of me!"

  Jimmy strode out and dropped into the chair next to him, bottle of grape soda in hand—which told Leslie his best friend had raided the fridge before he'd come outside.

  "My bad. I rang the bell but you didn't answer." He cracked the top to his soda and took a long swallow. He wasn't wearing the clothes he'd had on earlier, telling Leslie he'd gone home and changed. "I just came by to check on you."

  Leslie crinkled his nose when Jimmy let out a long and loud burp. He set the soda on the floor of the porch and slouched in his seat, entwining his fingers over his flat stomach.

  How he could sit in such tight jeans was beyond Leslie. They looked as though they should have cut off his circulation. But that was the way Jimmy dressed, and he got a ton of dates because of it. Then again, it wasn't as though he needed to try. Jimmy was hot as hell, with amazing blue eyes, dark hair that sculpted his face and was shaved short in the back, and a smile that should be bottled and sold.

  "I'm fine." Leslie set his cup on the small table to his left, then told Jimmy what happened after they parted ways.

  "Oh, honey." Jimmy patted his leg. "I guess almost getting laid counts. Tell me Ian at least saw you two together."

  "He looked at me from across the street while Brady was crossing it. Does that count?" Too bad Brady hadn't kissed Leslie until he couldn't breathe. That would have shown Ian.

  "No, but I know this hot guy who—"

  "Hell no." Leslie waved his hand. "No blind dates, no hookups, no nothing. For now, I'm done with men."

  Leslie pushed from his chair and stepped into his small backyard, scrunching his bare toes in the grass. Right past the chain-link fence was an alley, and beyond that was some neighboring backyard. Leslie had done a lot of yard work just to make his small patch of land look nice. Hosta plants lined the fence, and a slab walkway he'd laid led from the entrance of the fence to the back porch. The grass was green and thick, and Leslie smiled as he looked at his hard work.

  Although this was a rental, Leslie took really good care of it. After all, your house represented who you were, and most treated rentals poorly. He'd even talked the landlady into a new kitchen floor. He could tell she cared about her property just as much as he did.

  He'd always been that way. Leslie liked a nice house, although he couldn't afford finer things. But his place was clean, with decent furnishings, and it was his little haven.

  Thank fuck he hadn't asked Ian to move in. He thought about the night his ex had tried to talk him into doing just that. Wanting to move in after knowing Leslie just a few days should have been a warning sign.

  Jimmy stepped up beside him and tapped Leslie's temple. "Get out of your headspace. You want to watch a movie or go for a ride?"

  Leslie never got into Jimmy's death trap unless he had to. He always feared it would fall apart while they rode down the street. Besides, the shaking always made him nauseous.

  "How about a drink?" Leslie headed toward the porch. "I got a bottle of Jack in the kitchen and a two-liter of Coke in the fridge."

  When Jimmy didn't follow, Leslie turned to find his best friend's head cocked to the side while he stared at the alley. "Did you hear that?"

  Leslie stood there listening. All he heard were the usual neighborhood noises. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention. "What?"

  "Shhh." Jimmy patted the air. "Just listen."

  "What am I listening for?" Leslie walked to the fence, curled his fingers over the top, and looked up and down the alley. "I don't see anything."

  Jimmy took a step back. "Get in the house."

  With furrowed brows, Leslie looked at him. Had Jimmy just given him an order? "What?"

  "Get in the house." He grabbed Leslie's hand and pulled him up the stone
path. Leslie didn't remember him being so damn strong.

  Before they could make it to the porch, Leslie heard a low snarl. He spun to find…what the hell? Was that really a panther in his backyard? Its fur was black and shiny, its eyes a greenish-yellow. Even though Leslie didn't own any animals, he knew that pinned-back ears were not a good thing. The panther's head was low and it was crouched.

  Jimmy pushed Leslie so hard his foot caught on the lip of the porch and he fell. "Go!" Jimmy shouted. "Get in the house!"

  "I'm not leaving you out here." Leslie shoved to his feet, unsure what he should do. Jimmy had his arms out wide, as though protecting Leslie from the panther.

  God, that really was a panther and not a figment of his imagination. There were vast woods behind houses on Murray Hill, but Leslie had never heard of any large predatory animals living in them—except for the occasional wolf howl, though he'd never seen a wolf. But he had seen skunks, raccoons, deer, and once an albino possum with creepy red eyes.

  The panther bared its sharp teeth as it inched closer to them, its paws pressing quietly into the thick grass.

  "Get inside, Leslie. He's feral."

  "How do you know that?" Since when had Jimmy become an expert about savage animals? The guy owned a freaking goldfish, not a wild cat.

  Leslie shrieked when a hand landed on his shoulder. He swung his fist as he spun around, and it connected with Brady's jaw. Leslie covered his mouth as his eyes went wide. He hadn't meant to punch Brady, but the guy had scared the crap out of him.

  Another man was with Brady. He gave a quick smirk before moving past them to stand beside Jimmy.

  "You two get in the house," Brady said. "We got this."

  "What're you, the animal police?" For the life of him, Leslie couldn't think of the title of someone who caught wild animals, but he seriously doubted Brady was one of them. He wasn't wearing a uniform and didn't have one of those long poles in his hands. He had on jeans, a tight T-shirt that hugged his impressive muscles, and boots that were too nice for this line of work. He also had a gun holster wrapped around his shoulders.