That Night... *Part 24*

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A/N: I'll be the first to admit, Blake can be an evil little shit. But a loving evil little shit. He's also brilliant and loves to hold up a mirror to oneself. If there was ever a person to help Ronnie face some facts, it would be Blake. So the question still stands... what did happen that night?

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I got comfortable on my bar stool. Or as comfortable one could get.

"Alright, spill. What's Pretty Birds name?"

"Ah, ah. Nope. You want her name, the lady will have to give it to you herself. And it seems she's already spoken." I shouldn't relish rubbing Lia's shut down in his face, but I did. There was one thing from our past that made me relish it even more. But I hadn't missed the way she had pulled in closer to me when I practically claimed her like an asshole. That I'd have to thank Blake for. Past or not.

"How can you be so cold. I'm your best friend. It's cruel to withhold information."

I rolled my eyes, it was involuntary. "Do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Only when it comes to you, princess." He winked and I threw my drink napkin at him. It clipped him on the chin and he caught it deftly with his hand on its way down. This was a natural reaction. A habit ingrained after years of our routine. We might as well be a married couple. "If you won't give up her name, at least share with the class as to who she is, and why you insist on pawing her hip like a rogue."

"I wasn't pawing her hip," I grumbled. "Merely offering her some moral support while you batted your fake eyelashes at her."

"I beg your pardon, but these lashes are au-natural and women absolutely adore them. Your Pretty Bird included. Just you wait, I'll win her over yet." He replied slyly.

"Knock it off. I said she was off limits and I meant it, Blake. No fucking around."

"Meant you say?" I felt my face compress into what I assumed was a scowl. He rolled his eyes.

"Yea, yea. I heard you loud and clear. Now tell me all about your sweet magnolia."

"What's there to tell. She's perceptive, smart, kind, compassionate-"

He nodded solemnly. "Stunning. Gorgeous. Impressively funny, quick-witted. Yea yea yea, I know. So when's the wedding?"

"Can't you be serious for a single second?"

He smacked his chest. "I am being serious, now stop deflecting. If I wanted a bunch of adjectives I'd buy a dictionary. I want to know what makes the woman that has you bristling like an indignant cock."

"That crass mouth of yours is going to get you smacked one day. And I seriously hope I'm there to record it. It would give me years of joy to watch over and over again."

"Stop. Deflecting. Or I will march my ass into your bakery first thing Tuesday with a three-course meal and ambush her with a date. While you glare at me like a serial killer through that circular window-young Michael circa H20."

"That'd never happen. She'd have you running with your tail between your legs before I'd even have to resort to physically tossing you out." He stared at me, unimpressed. Guess I had to give him something. "Fine. What do you want to know."

"Anything you're comfortable to share. How about to start, tell me what you like about her."

"You mean besides her seeing through your bullshit?"

He waved me away. "Mild misunderstanding. I'd have won her over in the end if you hadn't popped up with those freakishly strong hands; rubbing her backside."

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