Pack or Prey (Wolfblooded book 1)

Chapter 4, Part 2

*****

Frank gave me that sweet, lopsided grin that I'd fallen for time and time again and all the hurt and frustration melted away from me, if only for a few moments. It left me feeling warm, and safe, and loved, and oh-so-right.

I hadn't missed the whole scene at the pool table. I may not have been able to hear what was said, but Joy Anne's body language broadcast her intentions in high definition. She'd tried to sink her skankified teeth into him, and he'd resisted, even pushed her away. That girl could talk all the shit she wanted, but Frank's actions spoke volumes and he was practically screaming 'not interested' in her face.

I watched as she stormed back towards her friends at the bar a few feet away from my table, looking as dejected as I was smug. Yeah. Eat that, bitch.

"Jesus, that looked painful," I heard the girl sitting on the stool to her left say. Oh yes, it really did.

"Shut the fuck up, heifer," Joy Anne snapped. I chuckled.

I was trying not to look in their direction, trying not to let her see that I was watching. Her friend huddled in on herself a little, sipping her fruity little cocktail through a thin straw. If you were friends with Joy Anne you didn't point out her failures. It was the first lesson of Sycophant 101.

"Fuck him," her other friend chimed in.

"That was the idea," she growled, turning in her stool to slam back a shot. I felt the jealousy twist my gut again, but this time it was coupled with a possessive anger. She peered over her shoulder to watch Frank and I glanced over to him, too.

He bent over the table, grinning that crooked grin at me and pressing his fingertips to his lips before he took his shot. When Frank was relaxed he took on a shine of the boy I’d fallen for. I knew he was still there, buried under all the machismo, and when I got quick peeks of him like I did just then, it made my heart flutter.

We could be okay.

Joy Anne plopped in the empty chair in front of me, blocking my view of Frank. I smiled at her, not because I really liked the woman, but because I was a smug little bitch in my own right.

Sue me. After that display with Frank, I couldn't help but gloat about what I had just seen. Just a teensy little gloat.

"Hey, Joy Anne," I said with a voice more sugary than a southern grandma’s sweet tea.

She didn't say anything at first. Just sat there, chewing her gum and smiling at me for a few moments before she finally let loose a heavy sigh.

"Feels good, dunnit?" she said, stretching backward against the top of her chair.

"What? Being out?" I asked.

She nodded her answer, and I nodded, too.

"Yeah, I guess it does. We've been holed up for a while since," I paused, realizing what I had almost said. I looked to her apologetically. "It's nice to get out and relax for a change," I finished weakly.

She stared at me again, going quiet. I guess she'd caught what I meant. Too soon? Probably.

I was never good with the whole condolences thing, and often put my foot in my mouth before I realized it. Miss Sensitive, I am not.

"Frankie buy that dress?" she asked suddenly.

I looked down at myself, smoothed my hands over my thighs, which the dress did very little to cover.

"Yeah," I answered.

"He did good. It's a damn hot dress, I'll tell ya that. Chuck used to shop real good for me when he was tryin' to make up for something he done wrong."