I wince, looking at Arden, who is hiding her discomfort behind her hand. She and Penny lock eyes, and Sweets nods toward the bar. They silently excuse themselves, despite the fact that the drinks in their hands are still half-full. Traitors.
Whatever I just started by calling Saltzy a robot was felt throughout the table. I’m not sure why that is being considered the insult of the century. That was tame!
“He didn’t mean anything by it, Cap,” Boss grumbles, and I get the whiff of his gum as he pops it into his mouth. “I think he’s gotten hit in the head a couple times too many.”
“I don’t get hit,” I interject, glaring at him. “Idothe hitting.”
Boston’s eyes snap to mine. “Dude, will you ever let us get you out of shit, or do you just like rolling around in it?”
Lowesy barks out a laugh, and when I glare his way, he laughs even harder.
“Am I robotic?” Saltzy asks the table, his fingers tapping his glass. I’d say he looks concerned, but his face looks like it usually does. His jaw is just a bit tighter. “Does the whole team think that about me?”
The three of us exchange a glance. Maybe I do prefer to just roll around in shit, because what the hell did I cause here? I didn’t intend for that to offend him. He knows we think he’s emotionless as all hell. Heis.
“It was just a joke, Cap,” I say, trying to mend this before it gets worse. “Like how people say I’m unhinged.”
“Youareunhinged,” he points out.
Well, fuck.
“Right,” I say, nodding stiffly. I glance around the table, looking for help.
“There’s nothing wrong with how you come off to the team, Saltzy.”
Thank you, Declan Lowes.
“Hell, half the team is too scared to even approach me,” Boston says gruffly.
“Yeah, but I’m theCaptain,” Saltzy reminds us.
I swallow, watching him look at us for help, maybe an explanation. All this time, I thought he knew the kind of guy he came off as. I thought he liked being unreadable. It was his edge. It makes us all listen.
“It’s a good thing,” I say. “It keeps us in line.”
Lowesy nods, bringing his beer to his lips.
It’s true. Not knowing where Cap stands, what he feels, it makes us fight to impress him. We listen to him, even usvets. The way we respect him makes the rookies respect him even more, even harder.
“Did you grab me a glass of?—”
“Champagne,” Boston finishes with a nod, gesturing toward the drink at the chair beside him. “Yep.”
“Ah, thank you,” Lemmy sighs, her cheeks a bit pink. She fixes a few rogue curls that have fallen out of their pins. Her gray eyes scan the table, feeling the awkward tension as she lowers herself into her seat. “Boys.”
“Hey, Lem.” Lowesy smiles, nodding.
“Lem,” Saltzy grumbles, dipping his chin.
“Eleanor,” I say, flashing her a beaming smile when she glares at me. “How are you?”
Before she can answer, Saltzy jerks to his feet and storms away from the table without another word. Dec watches him go, giving a little sigh at the tension in his shoulders. I might have ruined a good thing here. I might have given our captain an identity crisis. This is not good for any of us.
“Damn, was it something I said?” Lemmy asks quietly, fishing a dark berry lipstick out of her clutch.
“Nope. That would be Forker.” Boss sighs, leaning back to smack me roughly on the shoulder.
Using her phone as a mirror, Lemmy applies her lipstick. “Shocker.”
