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“I want you to repeat it so when I kick your ass, you know exactly why!” Picking up a book from the coffee table, I whip it at him. He slaps it away like it’s nothing more than a pestering fly. “You are so out of line.”
“You’re being careless.”
“No, Tate, I’m being responsible. I only have one job now, and I need to keep it—unless you plan on sticking around after the bad guys are gone and paying my fucking rent.”
“Get another job.”
“The only job I’m getting is the one I’m going to!” I know I’m not making sense, but I’m fuming. “You can take me, or I’ll walk. Take an Uber. I don’t care. Either way, I’m. Going. To. Work!”
He drove me to work, all right, taking the long way, claiming traffic and safety reasons, which made me late. I swear, it’s like he was trying to get me fired. When we walked past Clay, I told him Tate was no longer on the list and not to let him in. He told me he doesn’t get paid enough to stop a man like him. Traitor.
I couldn’t let go of my frustration. How dare he call me a child. Yeah, I may be acting like one, but manners! Maybe he deserves this behavior from me. If he wants to act like my daddy, I’ll act like the child.
How wouldhelike it if his world was turned upside down? I can’t keep up with him. It’s exhausting. His mood swings are wearing me out. One minute, I’m a job. The next dessert. Then I’m back to being business. Talk about mixed signals. I’m over it.
He sits across the bar from me, killing my vibe and my tips with his scowl. “Can you go away? You’re scaring the customers.” He ignores me. “Seriously, beat it.”
“Hey.”
I pull my eyes from Tate, smiling when I see Vince. “Hey, what are you doing here? Uh oh, you’re not here to cancel dinner tomorrow, are you?”
“Not a chance.” Vince slides onto the bar stool and turns to Tate. “Hey, man. Nice seein’ ya again.”
Tate doesn’t acknowledge him. I roll my eyes and lean over the bar. “Don’t mind him. The girl he liked dumped him. Said he was acting like a child. Then she married a movie star. Talk about getting burned.”
“Ouch.”
“Right? So, what’s up? What can I get you—actually, let me guess.” I wink at him and walk off, returning with tequila. “I feel like this will do the trick,” I say, grinning at him.
“Wow, thanks. You remembered.” He accepts the glass.
“When a man has great taste, you never forget.”
Tate grumbles, “Jesus,” under his breath, but I ignore him. “What brings you here tonight? More cat-infested real estate?”
“God, no. I was in the neighborhood and took the chance that you’d be here tonight. Okay—that came out wrong. I hope that didn’t sound creepy.”
I love his sudden nervousness. It’s cute. “Nope. I like it.” What I don’t like is Tate’s frown in my peripheral. He looks like he’s seconds away from reaching out and slamming Vince’s face into the bar.
“If you don’t have anything going on, feel free to stick around and keep me company. The job gets boring sometimes.”
He returns my smile. “Sure.” He takes a sip of his tequila, and I get back to work, stopping and chatting every so often. His corny jokes make me laugh, and I tell him how excited I am for our dinner date. Our quick conversations would be more pleasant if Tate weren’t sitting next to him, a look of murder on his face. Annoyed, I lean over and whisper in Vince’s ear low enough so Tate can’t hear.
“In about thirty seconds, get up and meet me by the bathrooms.” Pulling back, I wink at Vince, then yell down the bar to Leroy. “Cover me. I’m going to the bathroom.” I walk to the end of the bar and lift the door, my eyes snapping to Tate. “Unless you’re gonna help me wipe, don’t move an inch.” I toss my towel on the bar, duck under the door, and head toward the bathroom.
Thirty seconds later, Vince makes his way down the hallway.
“Hey,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.
“Hey, yourself. What are we doing back—?”
I fuse my lips to his, cutting him off. He stumbles back but steadies himself. It takes him a moment before he kisses me back, his fingers lacing around my hips.
I try to focus on his lips. The taste of tequila and mint. I try to enjoy his hands gripping my waist. I try even fucking hardernotto think about Tate.
When I pull away, his eyes flutter open. “I was not expecting that.”
“Neither was I,” I reply, my eyes locking on the dark, looming shadow in the distance. “Maybe we should do that again—”
