“Nothing.”
“Which means something.” He paused as Carter hit a red into a pocket. “Thought you’d be pleased to walk out of court without cuffs today.”
“Yeah, I am.” He straightened and shrugged.
“What is it then? Skylar been yanking your chain again and filling you with regret the next morning?”
“Nah, that’s long over.” Carter shot a look over the bar to his ex. She was sitting on Jayden’s knee with her long, tanned legs crossed and her cleavage bobbing near Jayden’s face. “She’s with him now.”
“Don’t tell me you regret finishing it.” Wyatt followed his line of sight.
“Hell no. The only thing good between us was the sex. The rest was a fucked-up nightmare.”
Wyatt didn’t comment, instead, he pocketed a red.
Carter slugged on his beer. What would sex be like with Little Miss Prim? When she took off that sinfully tight skirt and that sheer blouse, would she throw her inhibitions aside? Become a wildcat in the bedroom? Insatiable, demanding, kinky as fuck?
Dear God, he’d like to find out.
His cock tingled at the image he’d produced in his mind. Him bending her over, messing up that perfect, sleek black hair of hers. Driving his cock into her tight pussy and then gripping what would no doubt be snow-white ass cheeks. And he’d bet good money she’d smell good. Her sex would smell good. Taste it, too.
“Your turn,” Wyatt said.
“What?”
Wyatt laughed. “It’s got to be a woman. That’s the only reason for you to get that line.” He stroked the patch of skin between his dark eyebrows.
“What?” Carter touched his face. “I do not.”
“Yeah, you do. I’ve seen it before, with Skylar. It’s your pussy frown.” He laughed. “A woman-giving-you-grief line.”
Carter huffed and took his shot. He missed.
“Ah, hard luck, son.” A warm hand slid over his back.
He straightened. “Hey, Mom.”
Brooklyn Harris turned her cheek for a kiss.
Carter obliged. Her skin smelled of lavender soap. It always did.
“Your little girl attorney saw you right,” Brooklyn said, taking his beer from his hand and sipping it.
“Yeah, she did.”
“It’s about time we got ourselves a club attorney,” Brooklyn said.
“Not a bad idea.” Wyatt cupped his hands over the top of his upended cue and set his chin on them.
“Walker always wanted it,” Brooklyn said, handing Carter’s beer back. “One based in our chapter. Would come in damn handy when the shit hits the fan with the law.”
“Which it does often enough.” Wyatt shrugged.
“No attorney will want to get mixed up with us,” Carter said a little gruffer than he’d intended.
His mother frowned. “Depends what we have over them.”
Again, he pictured Leah White. He’d bet she’d never so much as dropped a gum wrapper. There’d be nothing on her squeaky-clean record.