Micky laughs again, covering her mouth unsuccessfully.
“He’s not that funny,” I say when Micky starts to wave her hand in apology.
“It’s the entire thing,” she chokes out. “He didn’t pick me up, miss. Caine felt bad when I was skipped over for a table. But honey, he’s not interested. And you’re gorgeous. Don’t waste your energy on a guy who isn’t worth what you have to give.”
I’m pretty sure I was just insulted somewhere in that little speech, but Pamela is smiling, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you,” Pamela says. “I’m sorry, this was just…”
“Weird?” Micky asks, raising her brows.
“Yes!”
“Honey, I’m full of weird this week. Trust me, this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. Just one more weird day.” Micky shrugs, a smile dancing on her lips.
“I’m not that bad,” I say defensively after Pamela walks away.
Micky giggles. “Yes, you are. All you had to do was tell her you didn’t want a relationship. You just avoided telling her, and that made it worse.”
“I met her once a month ago in a bar!” I defend. “We didn’t even go on a date.”
Micky bobs her head from side to side. “Okay, then she’s a little crazy. Next time don’t fuck a crazy,” she says before taking a sip of her wine. After a few moments of silence, I look over and see that Micky is giggling again.
“Are you drunk?” I notice her cheeks are flushed.
“I may nothave eaten today,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“Fuck me.” This girl is going to kill me. I run my fingers through my hair and count to ten.
Half a glass of wine and Micky is practically on the floor. Her cheeks are red, and she can’t seem to stop giggling.
“Hey, lightweight,” Patrick says, handing her the basket of bread.
“Ooh! Thanks!” She reaches over excitedly, her eyes all big and round. “Yum.” She hums as she slathers on a huge amount of butter. She sways to the side, a dreamy look on her face.
I bristle in silence, shocked at how much butter she’s putting on that roll. I wonder how it would look slathered all over her…
“Oh, come on, Grandpa! Don’t be a stick in the mud!” She frowns at me, disapprovingly.
“I’m not a grandpa.” I do nothing to disguise my irritation.
Talk about a hit to the gut. I’m sitting here picturing this girl naked, and she just called me grandpa. I have a full head of black hair, thank you very much, and I barely have any gray. Barely!
Grandpa. Fucking Grandpa!
“You made him mad. Do it again! It’s fun when it’s not directed at me,” Patrick says. I kick him again. “Shit!” he mutters, rubbing his shin. “Stop doing that!”
“Shut it,” I grumble, pointing a finger at him.
“It’s okay, Gramps, don’t take that anger out on your son. He’s gonna cut up your steak nice and fast. I promise,” Micky teases, rubbing my arm up and down as if I were a child.
Then I see it… and feel it when her hand stops moving.
I might be forty years old, but I don’t look it. And I sure as shit don’t feel like it either.
Chapter Four
Mikayla
