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“Hmm. Your new barista, right? Fuck hot.” He whistled then proceeded to bite his fist. I wanted to kill him. But in a mean way. Not a clean bullet to the head. Maybe choke him or throw him into a pit of snakes.
“Have you texted her yet?” I asked.
“I have.”
Where am I going to find so many snakes? “And what did you say?”
“I asked her if she wanted to grab a coffee later. Not at Café Diem, obviously. Somewhere cool.” His voice was calm and calculated, as if pissing me off was his mission in life. Did he have any idea what he was messing with? Who he was messing with? No. Of course not. I’d never been half as possessive of any woman in my life. Even with Edie, whom I very much liked, I didn’t particularly care. I’d let her slip through my fingers right into Trent’s arms without a fight, knowing they’d needed each other, and that I didn’t need anyone. Whenever men hit on her, I’d watched with a mixture of pity and amusement. Not in Jesse’s case. This felt personal.
“Did she answer?” I never asked questions, let alone that many, but I couldn’t stop myself, and that was a problem.
“Not yet.”
“She won’t,” I deadpanned, tossing the beer to the trash without even touching it. “Delete her number from your contacts and never talk to her again.”
“What?!” He laughed.
“Did I fucking stutter?” My jaw stiffened, and I kicked a can of fresh paint sideways, ready to march over to him and plant a fist in his face.
“Says who?” His smile evaporated.
“Says me.”
“And you are…?”
“Are you having an amnesia episode? I’m your fucking boss.”
Hale shook his head. “What I mean is, what are you to her? What gives you the right to warn me off? Are you her boyfriend? Brother? Daddy?”
Let the record show that he asked for it.
I rounded the counter toward him, fisted the collar of his shirt, and yanked him so that we were nose-to-nose.
“She’s mine.”
“Does she know that?” He searched my eyes, his expression tranquil.
“Yeah.” Told you I was a liar.
“Guess I’ll have to hear it from her, then.”
I released him, letting his body drop like a stone on the beanbag. “Drop it.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m kicking you out of the business, and your game would be over. No more Mr. Tough Guy, and back to folding shirts at the Gap. Of course, cutting ties with me would mean less pussy and surfing time, but at least you’ll get a fifty percent employee discount and can finally stop wearing these fucking Hawaiian shirts.”
Yes. I went there. I insulted his clothes. I was officially a chick.
Hale narrowed his eyes, the gravity of my threat sinking in. “You can’t do that.”
I grabbed his phone next to him and punched in his code—his ex-girlfriend’s birthday he was too lazy to change—looking for Jesse’s contact as I spoke. “Newsflash: I can do whatever I want. People come and go. It was Edie in your shoes seven years ago. Then she married a millionaire, and I took Robbie on. Then he moved, and I employed Ashford. There’s always a Hale in the background—an errand boy I split my money with to make sure everything’s in check. Don’t be fooled by my generosity. I don’t need you, and the minute I drop you, you’re done here. Stay away from Jesse Carter. I’ll ask again—am. I. Clear?” I threw his phone onto his chest after I was done removing her number from his memory.
His jaw locked, and he got up from the beanbag, zigzagging his way back outside. He was blind with rage. I looked up to see Gidget and Beck standing there, looking less than impressed. I’d always been harsh on Hale, but I never went as far as threatening to fuck him over. But things were beginning to change, and not only because of Jesse.
“Was that really necessary?” Beck crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.
I ignored him. “Get your surfboard. Time to kill some waves.”
When I got out, Edie pulled me by the arm to a corner behind her shack-like shop, and I let her, even though I knew she was going to annoy the crap out of me with whatever was going to fall out of her mouth.
“Is this about Jesse?” She was so annoyed, her nostrils were as wide as her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because you act all weird about her. I’ve seen you with her, Bane. I’m not blind. And I’m wondering…” She licked her lips, staring up at me in a way I couldn’t decode. Hopeful? Yeah. She looked kind of hopeful.
“Go on. That’s not technically a fucking sentence,” I grumbled.
“I was wondering if she knew about your job.”
Oh.
Oh.
“She knows,” I said. And she did. She also hated it. That was why Hale had her number in the first place.
