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Sorry, I can’t. Working. It’s going to be a late night.
Working? Late night? Yeah, right. Looks like he’s working it all right. Before I have time to mourn my short relationship with Aiden, a group of men arrive. Mrs. Yard’s husband is the leader of the pack. Good. Work will keep my mind off asshole Aiden.
Phoebe swivels in her barstool in the direction of the men, and they freeze. Every single one of them focuses on her, their eyes glued to her chest. I don’t know how much she paid for her dress, but it was worth every single penny.
The group becomes unstuck and stampede toward her. All of them vying to talk to her. She laughs and dials up the charm. She’s good. Really good. Within five minutes, Mr. Yard is taking her hand and helping her off the barstool.
I watch as they walk out of the bar. The remaining men in the group gape with their mouths hanging open as they watch Mr. Yard escort Phoebe into the elevator. As soon as they’re out of sight, I jump up and rush after them. Andy waves as I rush by. By the time, I walk into the hotel room, Mr. Yard has his hands on the dress and is trying to slide it over her shoulders.
“What the fuck? It doesn’t move.”
I snap some pictures.
Phoebe giggles. “Of course, not. I can’t have it falling off before I’m ready. There’s a trick to it.”
“Who cares,” he says as his hands dive for her breasts. She squeaks and tries to get away from his wandering hands, but he has her pushed up against the wall. There’s nowhere for her to go.
I set my camera down and stalk to him. “You’ll want to remove your hands now,” I order him. There is no time for finesse and frankly, I’m in no mood for finesse tonight.
“Who are you?” He looks me up and down. “You’re kind of plain, but I’m down for a threesome.”
I cock my arm back. I’m decking this asshole, right here, right now. Phoebe grabs my fist and hangs on. “Don’t do it. He’s not worth it. He’s not the one you’re mad at.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“You need to leave,” Phoebe orders him. “Before I let her loose on you.”
“But we haven’t finished.”
She frowns. “Sorry, but we were never going to finish.”
“This is some bullshit,” he shouts before stomping out of the room, making sure to push us out of his way as he moves.
“Asshole,” Phoebe says. Her eyes round as if she didn’t mean to say the word out loud.
I chuckle. “You can let me go now. I’m not going to chase after him.”
“Oh, right.” She releases my hand. “I’m sorry. Should I have not said anything about it never happening?”
“It’s fine. I already have the pictures. But don’t ever mention we’re working for the spouse. I don’t want to be responsible for some husband beating the crap out of his wife because he finds out she hired us to find proof he’s cheating.”
Her eyes grow big and round. “Oh god. I never thought of that. I will never say anything of the sort.”
“Didn’t think you would.” I grab my camera from the dresser and put it in my bag. “Ready? Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
We’re settled in my car before she speaks again. “If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. And I won’t tell anyone.” She shrugs. “I don’t have many friends in the city yet anyway.”
Ugh. I groan. I was planning on ignoring everything Aiden for the rest of time, not talk about it. “Thanks. But I’m good.”
“Okay. The offer stands, though. Whenever.”
I nod in thanks, although I have no plans to take her up on her offer.
I’m not one of those women who like to sit around with her girlfriends and bitch about her boyfriends, although Aiden is not now, nor will ever be, my boyfriend. No, I’m the kind of woman who likes to take the emergency bottle of vodka out of the freezer and tell it all her problems. Vodka does not talk back. It doesn’t push you to give a man another try. And it certainly never blames you for anything.
