“Do you care about Lucy?” Ty asked.
“That’s none of your business.” So this was another stay away from Lucy talk. “And like I said before, she made herself plain tonight. I won’t bother her again.”
“You didn’t even let her talk,” Ty pointed out. “You looked around, decided the world was shit, and walked out. She didn’t make herself plain. You didn’t give her a chance to make a choice. From what I can tell she didn’t know there was a choice to be made at all.”
He was confused. “Choice?”
“Between you and me.”
“I thought you didn’t want her to make a choice. I thought she was yours and you were some caveman asshole who intended to club her over the head and run away with her.”
“No, I intended to turn our friendship into something more,” Ty explained. “We’ve always been close. We’ve always been end game, if you know what I mean.”
“So you thought she would wait around while you sowed your wild oats,” Michael surmised.
Ty huffed. “No. That’s not how it was.”
“Oh, I’ve heard. It was a whole lot of oats. There’s rumors that you sowed all the oats of Southern Colorado, and all the tourist oats, too.” He liked the way Ty’s face had gone slightly pink.
Ty frowned, a stubborn expression. “This is not what I came here to talk about.”
Michael stopped baiting him. He wanted to get this over with. “All right, then tell me why you’re here so you can go.”
Ty looked back like he was waiting for something. Or trying to make sure Sawyer wasn’t listening. “I screwed up tonight. I pushed her too hard.”
“Give her a couple of days. Take her some flowers. I’m sure you’ll be back in her good graces soon.” Lucy wouldn’t stay alone for long. She was too sweet, and he’d seen how she lit up when Ty came in a room. She relied on Ty. He himself was nothing more than a flirtation. She was sweet, and she thought she could save him.
He was worried she might be right.
“I don’t think so.”
Sawyer was back, putting a glass in front of Ty. “We’re closing in an hour. There’s a pitcher of this shit behind the bar, and you know where the whiskey is. I’ve got paperwork to do. Let me know if anyone else comes in.”
He stalked away.
So Sawyer trusted Ty. That was interesting.
He glanced around. They were the only ones in the bar. It would have been perfect if only Ty wasn’t here. He could quietly drink himself into a stupor. Sawyer had a cot in the back for just such an occasion. It was sad he knew that. Even sadder he’d slept there more than once.
Ty took a sip of his margarita and winced slightly. “He’s heavy-handed with the tequila. Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t think my plans were going to work no matter how soft I went in, and you’re the reason why.”
He wasn’t sure when he’d become Tyler Davis’s relationship sounding board. “I told you, she’s all yours.”
“But she can’t be while she’s got a crush on you.”
He hated that word. “Crush? That seems like a juvenile word to use.”
“She likes you. She’s attracted to you. Fascinated. What word do you want me to use? Lucy’s always had a thing for strays.” Ty winced again. “Damn it. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re not a stray.”
He didn’t take offense. He was a practical man, and Ty had merely used a word that correctly described him. “I wouldn’t say that. I was part of what I thought was a family and then I wasn’t. That’s kind of the definition of a stray.” He was starting to get tired of being alone. The whiskey wasn’t working the way it used to. “I like her, too, but I don’t think I’m good for her.”
He expected Ty to agree with him, to point his way and nod. “Why?”
Michael decided to be very clear with the other man. “I don’t even have a house here. I know I defend that piece of crap I live in, but it doesn’t have a toilet. I have an outhouse. I don’t have a job. I’ve been living like this for two years now.”
Ty shrugged. “She has all those things. She doesn’t need them from you.”
Now the kid was being naïve. “She obviously could use some help.”
One shoulder shrugged. “And I’ll give it to her. Next objection.”
What was going on here? “Fine. I’m too old for her.”
“She’s twenty-seven. You’re what? Fifty?”
Michael felt a growl in the back of his throat. He was surprised he could still be offended. He’d thought he’d gotten past all that. “I’m thirty-five, asshole.”
If he’d intimidated Ty, the other man didn’t show it. “So not exactly a dinosaur. You’re eight years older than us.”
It was about far more than a number. “I wasn’t really talking about age. I was talking about experience. I’ve seen a lot of crap in my days.”