Fixing Ashley Read Online Free

kind of place. “Country music, man? Are you fucking trying to kill me?”
    “Dude, this chick—” he shakes his head “—she’s worth it. You’ll see.” He claps a hand over my already sore shoulder, making me flinch back in pain.
    “Jesus, you fucker, watch what you’re doing,” I seethe through clenched teeth. Taking a deep breath, I rotate the muscle, feeling the burn as it stretches and knots itself. “Fucking shoulder injury,” I mumble in pain, as Brad stretches his lean body upright to look over the crowd.
    “Fuck, she’s not behind the bar,” he muses, making me roll my eyes in annoyance. “Oh, there she is.” He points to a hot little number with short, colorful hair and an obvious flair for the unusual.
    “Have you ever even spoken to her, dude?” We push past the crowd of people until we’re standing a few feet from his dream girl’s table. This place is packed and definitely not my kind of thing.
    She’s sitting alone, nursing some fruity blue drink, and Brad grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “This is great; I don’t think she’s working tonight.”
    “Yeah, I’m going to go get a drink; you want me to bring you anything?” He doesn’t answer me, and waves me off as the cute bartender—who’s obviously not working this evening—smiles and winks at him.
    Standing at the bar and waiting for the bartender to bring me a couple of beers, I watch as Brad takes a seat next to his girl. Apparently, my wingman superpowers won’t be needed here tonight. If I’m lucky, I can sneak out soon. Wouldn't that be grand?
    “Here you go.” I hand Brad his beer and take a seat across from his girl. “I’m Devon.” I grin and nod curtly, taking a swig from my beer bottle. I probably don’t come across as very nice right now, but I’m a little irritated. Between the fact my fucking shoulder hurts like a mofo, and I’m clearly not needed anymore, they’re playing some twangy eighties music over the speaker. I’d rather be deaf than listen to this shit. No, scratch that, it’s going to make me go deaf in about five more minutes because I’ll start clawing out my own ears.
    “Relax, man.” Brad leans into me and motions to his friend. “This is Laurie.”
    She smiles and gives a little wave. “Nice to meet you, Devon.”
    She’s definitely cute, and I can see why he’s attracted to her. I’m sure she’s smart, too, because Brad has a thing for that. He’s told me once or twice about coming here to chat her up.
    “Hey, Laurie.” I lean forward and watch Brad’s eyes darken as he furrows his brows. “You good with this fucker?” I nod toward Brad. “‘Cause I’ve gotta go, and I’m supposed to be his wingman.”
    She giggles and makes googly eyes at Brad, then leans forward to talk to me. “I think we’re good, Devon. Thanks. Too bad you can’t stay; I’m meeting my sister here in a few.”
    I shake my head, the noise overwhelming me. “I can’t. This—” I motion toward the ceiling and then to the people on the dance floor line dancing “—sucks balls. I fucking can’t stay here with this shit.”
    She snorts and leans into Brad, holding her hand over her mouth, her face turning red.
    I turn to face Brad, who’s looking at the pretty thing currently clutching onto his shirt and giggling, and he looks as though he’s about to shit his pants. Or come in them. I’d like to think I wouldn’t know the difference.
    With a last salute, I polish off my beer and stand. “It’s been great.” I point to Brad, and in a warning tone add, “You two, be safe.”
    My job here is done, and I walk out of the bar, relieved beyond anything that I actually made it without killing anyone. Judging from the twitching going on behind my left eye, I think it’s about time I stop listening to Achy Breaky Heart.
    . . .
     
    I spend Sunday with an ice pack over my shoulder. I’m not sure what I did to anger it, but fuck, this means I’m going to need help over at the Evans’ house. I