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I’ve barely spilled a thing to my best friend, Mia, who I live with, and Miles isn’t so good at keeping things to himself. It’s how I know all the drama going down at Rapture Ink at all times.
“You know…you’re worse than a chick,” I reply with a shake of my head. “He’s been trying to build more capital and I’m helping. He wants coffee every hour, on the hour and I’m the maid who grabs it for him. On top of you boys who don’t check your damn calendars that I spent two days getting together so it links all your appointments to our scheduling system.”
Miles waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It takes away the ambiance of asking you, Liv. I like the socializing.”
“It’s called taking charge and being an adult. It’s right at your fingertips.”
“Yeah, but don’t you like me texting you at one in the morning asking you what my schedule looks like the next day?” I just stare at him in response which causes him to chuckle lightly. “C’mon, Liv…we’re buddies. We stick together.”
“You brought pastries to work on Tuesday and you didn’t save me one. The guys ate them all. I don’t call that being a buddy.”
Miles cringes a little and gives me an exaggerated smile. “I told them to save one.”
“Like they’re gonna listen. It’s like putting a blood bag in front of them and telling them not to bite.”
He blows out a silent breath between his lips. “Well, c’mon. Let me feed you now and get you upstairs before you give grumpy pants a reason to get me in trouble.”
I stroll behind him as we take the stairs up and I register rock music behind the closed door.
Miles opens it, “Stricken” by Disturbed filling my ears along with the loud laughing of people.
We round the wall toward the kitchen and backyard and it’s full of men standing around drinking and talking amongst themselves along the back patio.
Like a party.
And a busty brunette hanging off Hudson’s side while he stands behind a grill.
“Who’s the chick?”
“Which one?” Miles tugs at his beer again and patiently waits for me to answer, but he knows.
That’s the one thing about Miles. You don’t think he’s paying attention because he flirts with anything that breathes but he’s quite aware of his surroundings.
However, there is only one chick in attendance. The rest of the attendees are some of the dudes from the tattoo parlor.
“Why did you bring me up here?” I whine with a clenched face. “I don’t feel like getting harassed by the guys.”
“I told you because Hudson wanted you.”
“I was busy, couldn’t you of told him that?”
Miles wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me forward. “Nope, he wouldn’t have cared.”
He guides me to the sliding door outside and out onto the patio where I immediately receive the attention of the dudes I didn’t want to be bothered with.
“Livy!” Devin greets me, raising two shots of whatever is in his hand as he beams at me. “There you are. Hud said he had you downstairs bustin’ your ass for runnin’ your mouth.”
My focus slits because he would say that.
“I thought you said you lost a bet,” Miles says at my side, but I ignore him because he should know better when it comes to Hudson that he doesn’t take lip and he’s a dickhead.
“Listen,” Winslow puts in, nursing a whole bottle of Jim Beam in his hand. It’s nice to see he’s taking a break from his eight hundred kids, but it doesn’t mean I do. “You keep doin’ what you’re doin’ because you’re keepin’ him off our ass.”
The boys laugh amongst themselves and I do nothing but rock my head back and forth, because good for them.
Meanwhile, I’m slaving away and reaping the rewards of my dumb-ass mistake to keep my mother off my butt which still hasn’t worked.
“Y’all could thank me by not eating all the pastries that walk in the door,” I lightly scold, watching them avert their eyes as if playing the innocent party. They know. I’m a sucker for donuts, muffins, and anything baked-goods related. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
