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“And miss this conversation about your not-boyfriend boyfriend? No way!”
“First of all, if I’m being kissed, it better be on the face lips before my nether ones; secondly, he is not my boyfriend.”
“Well, why the hell not?” Pattie tosses her balled-up napkin on the table.
“Because we’re just friends.”
“But you’re always together,” Jules says.
“Because I’m rehabbing him.”
“There has to be more going on.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but there isn’t.”
“Is this because of your brother?” Jules crosses her arms. “Is he the reason you two aren’t hooking up?”
“No.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“The season has started, and he wants back on the ice, so he’s focused on rehab, and so am I. He’s been working really hard, and it’s paying off, obviously. His determination is impressive.” And sexy. So, so sexy. It’s been incredible to watch him push himself right to the very limit of what’s comfortable. I’ve learned exactly where his line is and how to pull him back from it. It’s been gratifying for both of us to see him make such incredible progress over the past few weeks.
At that moment, my least favorite asshole drops into the seat beside me.
Joey doesn’t make a move to put his arm around me. I’m not sure exactly what Bishop said when he retrieved my suitcase, but Joey has backed right off. It’s been nice.
On the other side of that shiny, happy coin, he’s also started openly flirting with women in front of me. It’s more of an annoyance than anything. That stupid fundraiser-dinner thing with all the damn athletes is coming up soon, and I know he’s going to bring a date. It’s not that I care if he brings someone; it’s that I’m not interested in making small talk with his next victim. I realize that I haven’t wanted to cry about what happened in a while. Looks like I’m making progress too.
“How are you ladies doing today?” He shifts his chair so he’s angled toward me.
Pattie and Jules give him frosty smiles and respond at the same time with, “Fine.”
He raps on the top of the table and turns his somewhat wary smile on me. “So, uh, looks like everything is covered for decorations, huh?”
Bishop took care of everything the day after we picked up the suitcase and had that talk in his car. Since then he’s been making Joey sweat over it. Just this morning he sent an email with an itemized list of what’s being delivered. We don’t even need to pick anything up. “Looks like it.”
“Is there an invoice? We’re supposed to pass that on to management. They said to keep it under a grand, and there’s a lot of stuff on that list that looks kind of expensive.”
“It’s a donation.” I start packing up my lunch, uninterested in being anywhere near Joey right now.
“Oh, okay. I guess all we have to worry about is setup, then.”
“We’ll help with that!” Pattie and Jules collect their things as well, and we leave Joey alone in the staff lounge.
We still have another twenty minutes left in our lunch hour, so we take the opportunity to grab coffee from the shop across the street.
“You’re bringing Bishop to this thing, right?” Pattie asks.
And we’re back to talking about their favorite benched hockey player. “He doesn’t want to come to my freaking work event. Plus it’ll be all of those athletes who want to be professional hockey players. How much would that suck for him? He’ll be mobbed the entire night.”
All the people I work with have been cool about it when he drops by, but then they work with athletes who often eventually become professionals, so they know better than to fangirl or fanboy. People will be all over him, and I might indirectly end up in the fringes of his spotlight. I’m not sure how to feel about that.
“I bet he’ll want to come anyway.” Jules shoots a sly smile at Pattie.
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I don’t plan to ask him. He already did me a huge favor by getting my suitcase for me and helping me with the decorations, so I don’t want to put that on him too.Later the same evening, I have Bishop’s leg thrown over my shoulder, and I’m almost lying on top of him to get the deepest stretch possible—the dude is flexible—and his leg hair is tickling my cheek.
“I can see down your top,” he groans.
“You’re the one who bitches about my hoodies irritating your sensitive skin.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything about not wearing a bra.”
“I am wearing a bra.” Hanging out with Bishop has grown increasingly confusing recently. He still makes inappropriate comments, and we spend a lot of time together, but unless we’re in front of Joey or he’s hugging me good night, he never puts his hands on me.
“Not a very good one if I can still see your nipples through the fabric.”
