Except the only woman he was remotely interested in was the one woman he couldn’t have.
And even if Darcy was on the table, he knew she wouldn’t date him, anyway. Why would she? She thought he was a player, an opinion he’d helped shape by hooking up with a revolving door of women in the five months Darcy had been with AJ. And besides, he’d never even been in a real relationship before—what could a guy like him offer someone like Darcy?
Reed pushed aside the bleak thoughts and raised his eyebrows at Gage. “You’ve only been dating Skyler a couple months. Isn’t it a little too early to call her your forever love?”
The other man’s voice rang with conviction. “Oh, it’s forever.”
“Someone’s mighty confident of that.”
“Trust me, when you know, you know.”
Damn it. Now he needed to change the subject again. His attempt to get his friend talking about light-hearted dirty stuff had been foiled by Gage tossing back the F-word.
The other F-word—forever.
Fortunately, Reed’s cell phone rang before his buddy could drop more F-bombs, but the wave of relief that washed over him dried up the second he glimpsed AJ’s number on the display.
“AJ,” he told Gage, his muscles tightening right back up again.
“You can take it. I need to go round up the guys, anyway,” Gage replied. “I’ll catch you later.”
As his partner wandered out of the room, Reed raised the phone to his ear and greeted his other partner. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“Nothing really,” came the gruff reply. “I just wanted to make sure you restocked the bar after yesterday’s rush.”
Reed searched for any false or unhappy note in AJ’s voice, but heard none. “Yes, Mom, I restocked the bar,” he grumbled.
“Good. I figured you’d forget.”
A frown surfaced. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by how little faith you have in me.”
There was a beat, and then AJ spoke up guiltily. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m so used to staying on top of you that I keep forgetting you’ve finally got your shit together.”
This time, the remark didn’t offend him. Truth was, he hadn’t been very responsible in the past. He’d spent his younger days drinking too much, blowing off work, and thinking himself a big-time hero because he happened to fight pro. But he’d cleaned up his act three years ago, after he and his friends had pooled their winnings together to buy the club. Reed had quickly discovered that once you had a real stake in something—and a bank loan to pay back—you grew up real fast.
Nowadays, he spent most of his nights doing inventory and signing other people’s paychecks, and he genuinely appreciated that AJ recognized he was no longer the irresponsible, self-absorbed jerk he’d once been.
“Don’t worry, Gage and I are handling things on this end.” Reed hesitated. “You still taking the weekend off? Or are you coming in now that you and…” He trailed off, uncertain about how to proceed.
But AJ had always been able to read his mind. “Now that me and Darcy broke up, you mean?” There was a pause, followed by a tired laugh. “Let me guess—she told Skyler, and Skyler didn’t waste any time telling you and Gage.”
“Actually, ah, Darcy told me herself.” Reed battled a rush of discomfort. “I stopped by the Krib last night and ran into her there.”
He was greeted by silence.
A very long silence.
“You still there, man?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Another pause. “Was she with another guy?”
His fingers tightened around the phone. Crap. Should he tell AJ the truth? Lying to his friends wasn’t something Reed did often—if ever—but AJ had sounded so unhappy just now that he didn’t want to make him feel worse.
And ha—he’d known the break-up wasn’t mutual. If it had been, there definitely wouldn’t be this much tension rippling over the line.
“Naah,” Reed finally said. “She was only there to dance.”
The lie burned his throat as it exited his mouth, sparking a pang of guilt.
But…was it really a lie? In the end, Darcy hadn’t gone home with another man, so why upset AJ when Reed had successfully managed to thwart disaster?
“That girl loves to dance,” AJ said ruefully. “I always felt like such a tool when she dragged me to all those dance clubs.”
“Are you…how are you handling it?” Reed injected a hefty dose of sympathy into his tone. “You’re not crying into your pillow and listening to Celine Dion or anything, right?”
A snort sounded in his ear. “Hardly. I’m doing fine, man. Honest. It wasn’t working, and we both knew it.”
Reed shifted in his chair, his chest tightening uneasily again. He wasn’t sure what to say next. He’d never been great at talking about his feelings, or helping others work through theirs. There weren’t many people he felt comfortable confiding in, and when he was the one serving as confidant, he couldn’t seem to vocalize all those nice, encouraging words they needed to hear.
“Well…” Reed cleared his throat. “If you ever want to talk about it…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll go to Gage.” AJ snickered. “Not that he’s a sparkling conversationalist either, but at least he doesn’t run out screaming when people start talking about their mushy feelings.”