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His chuckle makes my eyes narrow.
“But you want to?”
“Fuck no.”
God, if I had even the slightest indication that some bullshit like that would work, I would’ve done it when she climbed off the private jet and refused to look back at me.
“Liar.”
“Are you done? I have shit to do.”
“I’m not done, and no you don’t. It’s Sunday, and until Wren gets the information on Jefferson, we’re all in a holding pattern. Since you’ve so kindly worked every one of us to the bone the last month, we’re completely caught up.”
I release a very slow breath through my nose and close my eyes.
“You need to either lay all of your cards at her doorstep and take your chance or you need to get over it.”
We’ve been volleying back and forth which is typical of what Flynn and I do. The man knows he can approach me with anything. All the guys do, but the sincerity in his voice this time is eye-opening. I’m pushing them too hard, treating them like they don’t deserve and that’s on me.
“Fine,” I grunt.
“Fine? As in you’ll stop being a complete dick? Because Pam asked me to show her how to make a noose the other day. If you don’t make some changes, she may end up trying to kill you.”
I huff a laugh for two reasons. Pam would never hurt a fly, and with my attitude lately, I also don’t doubt that my friend is telling the truth. The woman hates dissension in the office, and it hasn’t been an easy ride for anyone lately.
“I’ll do better.” Saying the words is acknowledging that I’ve fucked up. “Tell Gaige that we can wait on the cedar.”
“Tell him yourself, asshole.” Flynn stands, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m not your fucking servant.”
He waits for me at the door, unwilling to let me stop being a dick on my own timeline, and I stand, obliging him. There’s no time like the present, right?
Gaige is no longer in his office, so Flynn forces me to the breakroom where everyone congregates, compelling me to interact with my men, something I’ve avoided unless absolutely necessary recently. A hush falls over the previously boisterous room when I enter, and it speaks loudly of the jerk I’ve been lately.
“What the fuck,” Wren spits, his head lowered over a recently opened delivery box.
He gains all of our attention, but Finnegan is the first to move.
“Is it a fucking bomb?” the Irishman asks as he approaches. His already freckled cheeks pink even further as he looks inside before he bends over with a laugh.
“What?” Brooks asks, smiling before he even knows what’s going on.
Wren flips the flap on the box to look at the address.
“I just picked this up from the front desk at my apartment.”
“The suspense is fucking killing me,” Flynn says as he also approaches. “Holy shit! I knew you were into some weird shit, but this is eye-opening.”
“This isn’t mine,” Wren hisses as Flynn reaches for the box and upending it.
“Wow,” I mutter, but the grin is slowing spreading across my face, and I don’t even try to stop it. “Might as well be a bomb. If you can handle that, call me impressed.”
Wren glares at me before reaching for the item Brooks picks up from the pile.
“Dios mio,” Ignacio hisses with a chuckle. “That thing is huge!”
“Twelve inches,” Flynn says holding the giant dildo to the side to read the label, “and ribbed for her pleasure.”
“The things you learn about people even after all the years of working together,” Gaige tsk-tsks.
“I didn’t order this shit!” Wren snaps as he gives up on getting the huge cock from Flynn and runs his hands over his head.
“Like hell,” Brooks chuckles as he holds up the box. “It says right here that it was delivered to W. Nelson. Apartment number 913.”
“I’m in apartment 1213, dick.” Wren snatches the box from Brooks and examines the label. “They gave me the wrong box.”
“Are you sure?” Ignacio moves the other items around on the table, spreading them out so everyone can see. “I’m sure you can find uses for this ball gag.”
“Use it on the fucking bird,” I offer.
“Or this feather tickler,” Ignacio continues.
“I’ve used that lube before but the cherry flavored is better,” Brooks adds.
“If you need lube—” Gaige begins, but Brooks throws a butt plug at him, pegging him in the chest.
“Don’t judge me. This is about Wren.”
We all turn our attention back to the flustered guy, but he’s already across the room, deserting the sex toys on the table.
We’re all invested, so of course we follow him to his office, cramming into the space that’s not meant to house more than a half-dozen curious guys.
“What are you looking for?” Ignacio asks.
“Doesn’t matter to me at this point,” Gaige says with a laugh, “I’m already invested.”
