Maybe he should give himself a break and stop beating himself up over something he had no control over. Then again, maybe he should stop trying to justify betraying his best friend.
Willow rounded the corner and disappeared with a finger-fluttering wave. Exhaling a breath, Regan leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as what the fuck did I just do? raced through his head. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with that question because, a moment later, his thoughts were put to voice.
“What are you doing, man?”
Regan opened his eyes to find Carson in his grill. Seriously? Dude better back the hell off, because he was not in the mood for this shit right now. And what happened to the whoa, let’s not piss off the MMA fighter routine? An act for Willow’s benefit? Possibly, because right now this guy didn’t look like he gave two fucks that Regan made a living kicking ass. It’d been a long time since someone had stepped up on him. In fact, the last person to do it had been his old man.
“Who the hell are you?” Regan asked with bored interest. He was not going to let this little prick know how close he was to pushing Regan’s “Go” button. Well, little was kinda figurative, because the guy was maybe an inch shorter than he was, minus about fifteen pounds of muscle mass.
“I’m the guy who’s going to take your girl if you don’t get your shit together.”
Wrong answer. Regan grabbed the guy by the shirt and swapped positions, slamming the little shit up against the wall. Now who was in whose face? His top lip curled back in a snarl he reserved for the cage, but Willow’s puppy bared his own teeth, looking like he was ready to bite back—a Doberman against a Golden Retriever wasn’t going to be much of a fight.
“Let’s get something straight right now,” Regan growled. “Willow is mine.”
“Then you better step up or step out of the way, because that girl’s heartache is my siren call. You do this a lot, don’t you? Huff and puff around any guy that might get close to her. Well, I’ll tell you what, Big Bad Wolf. My house ain’t made of straw. You aren’t going to blow it down.”
“We’ll see about that. You cross the line with her, and I’ll sure as shit knock you the fuck out.”
Romeo gave him another flash of teeth that wasn’t even close to a smile. And he’d be damned—that dog did have a set of fangs, after all.
“Maybe, maybe not . . .”