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He sent her a warm smile and stepped aside. “Caroline. You look lovely this evening.”
She bowed her head and mumbled, “Thank you.”
Patting her arm as she passed, he said, “Have a good night.”
I started to follow her, but my fucking boss stepped into my way, blocking the exit. Then he moved toward me, forcing me to back pedal. Once he was fully in the room, he shut the door behind him and glared into my face.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he growled.
I merely stared back, my eyes daring him to do whatever he was going to do: run to Gamble and tell him everything, beat my ass, lecture me, whatever. I was ready.
“You stupid fucker. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from her forever, but Jesus, Noel is just down the hall. And this is my office, man. My office. You probably did it on the couch too, didn’t you? That was Tink’s and my special couch. You’ve ruined our special couch.”
“It is pretty damn comfy,” I had to admit.
Pick growled and gave me a little shove, offsetting my balance until I stumbled a step back. “Don’t piss me off more than I’m already pissed off. I don’t appreciate coming in here and finding an employee, getting it on while he’s working and stabbing one of my very good friends in the back in the process.”
I gritted my teeth, because I absolutely refused to apologize for what had just happened, even though I knew I was totally in the wrong. I could never be sorry for any time I had with Caroline.
“Look, if you’re going to fire me, just fire me already, all right?”
With a scowl, Pick muttered, “I’m not going to fire you. Jesus, just...don’t ever do that in my office again...or anywhere in the club, and especially not while you’re on the clock. I can’t believe you and Caroline...” Shaking his head, he blew out a breath.
“Are you going to tell Gamble?” I asked.
That question made him laugh. “You think I’m insane? I’m not getting any more involved in this mess than I already am. He’s going to find out eventually, and when he does, I’m going to be as far away from the both of you as geographically possible.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well...thank for not telling him yet.” With a grateful nod, I started for the door, but Pick grabbed my shirt, stalling me.
“Just tell me she means something to you.”
I shook my head. Pick was ever the lady’s protector. I had to like that about the guy. But still, “Jesus, man. No. She’s just a worthless lay I plan to completely blow off tomorrow.” When he scowled at my sarcastic answer, I shoved at his arm to dislodge his hand from my clothes. “What the hell do you think? I’m risking the wrath of Noel Gamble to be with her. She means fucking everything to me.” When Pick’s mouth quirked with appreciation, I sighed. “Now, can I get back to work, boss?”
“One more thing,” he murmured. “Can you at least wait until after Skylar’s birthday party this weekend to tell him?”
I blinked, totally not expecting to hear that request. “Huh?”
“My little girl’s first birthday,” he reminded me. “Tink and I invited you all to come for a cookout.”
“Right,” I said. “So what?”
“So I thought one more time seeing the entire gang together before you break us up, and w
e’re forced to pick sides, might be nice. Plus, I don’t want you fucking up her birthday with all your drama. Tinker Bell’s gone to a lot to plan this.”
With a roll of my eyes, I snickered. “Yeah, sure. For Milk Tits, I’ll refrain from telling my best friend I’m boinking his sister. Got it.”
“Jesus, you are so freaking vulgar. I have no idea what poor Caroline sees in you.”
Caroline saw past the vulgar, I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t bother, because he was too busy adding, “And stop calling Tink Milk Tits already. Damn.”
I left his office, laughing. No way could anyone keep me from calling Eva Mercer Milk Tits, but that had been a nice attempt. I was still in a good mood when I strolled back into the bar and got to work. I spotted Caroline minutes later, closer to Blondie. When she sent me a worried glance, I winked and showed her a thumbs-up, which made her shoulders slump with relief.
We still had time before Gamble found out the truth, and all the shit drama hit the fan.
I had no idea what to buy a one-year-old, but I walked into Pick’s backyard that Saturday afternoon with what looked like a puppy’s chew toy. Milk Tits had cursed me out a few months earlier when she and Pick had thrown a birthday party for their boy. She’d sent me out to get him something and ordered me not to return until I’d gotten the rug rat a gift. So, this time around, I came prepared.
Milk Tits cheered her appreciation as soon as she saw me carrying the stupid pink gift bag.
