“Oh, yeah, you,” Griff says to Seth with a sneer. “Left me high and dry in Florida.” He juts his chin at Jace. “The both of you. Never recovered from that tour.”
“From what I understand, you don’t need a lot of help tankin’ tours,” Seth mutters.
Jace snickers.
Sal, her face neutral, approaches them.
Luke extends a hand behind him as if stopping Sal from getting closer. His expression says if Griff starts a fight with his wife here, Luke will end him.
“You got somethin’ to say, Greyson, or you want to get the hell out of my face and leave me and my wife alone?”
“You gotta a lot of nerve doin’ what you did to Alabama,” Griff growls.
Luke looks unhappy. “Alabama and I don’t have no issue. We settled it last year and she knows it.”
“Maybe so,” Griff needles. “Maybe now it’s you and me who have the issue.”
Jace’s face screws up. “Piss off, Greyson.”
Alabama rolls her eyes, a rush of heat hitting her face. “Good Lord, Griff, behave.” She swivels regretful eyes to Luke. “I’m so sorry about this.” She takes Griff’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Luke’s jaw clenches. “I’d take her advice if I were you.”
Alabama’s stomach rolls. Because she’s staring at a man who’s getting pissed. It’s a sight. Luke Kincaid, the easygoing frontman of the Brothers Kincaid, angry. But she gets his anger. His wife’s here and she’s been through some shit. The last thing Sal needs is some gigantic asshole like Griff hassling her husband. She wouldn’t blame Luke for swinging a fist.
Griff draws himself up to full height. “And if I don’t?”
Seth tenses next to Luke.
A husky voice breaks the tension. “Don’t be the start-fights-in-a-bar guy. No one likes that guy.”
Blinking, Griff glances down at the petite dark-haired woman in front of him. Sal stares up at Griff, her large green eyes calm and unafraid, a pleasant smile on her pretty face.
Griff’s face reddens with sudden embarrassment and Alabama has to smother a smile at the quick shaming Sal’s bestowed upon him.
“Listen to her,” Alabama says, her eyes meeting Sal’s. She crosses her arms, the two women putting up a united front. “Be nice, or leave, Griff.”
Griff’s jaw unclenches. He and Luke hold each other uneasily in their stare and then their bodies relax.
“You’re right,” Griff says, the admission a grit of regret. “I didn’t mean to come up in here and start shit.” He runs a hand across his jaw and nods at Sal. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Luke wraps an arm around Sal’s shoulder. “It ain’t a problem.”
“You could join us,” Sal offers. “If you want.”
Jace chalks his pool cue. “Always got room for one more.”
Sal’s eyes metronome between Griff and Luke. Then, looking as if she’s decided her husband won’t lay Griff out, she says, “You want to take a trip to the bar with me, Alabama?”
“Good Lord, that’s a hard yes,” Alabama replies, shooting Griff a dagger-eyed stare. “I need a stiff drink after that.”
Griff winces, his expression all apologies.
Stepping around Luke, Sal presses close to Seth. “Play nice,” she says.
Seth scoffs but socks her arm affectionately. “I’m always nice.”
Alabama gives Griff one last look of warning, and then she and Sal head toward the bar, leaving the boys behind them.