AllFreeNovel
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They have a different type of freedom than we do.
“Hey, it’s an honest living,” Daniel casually defends from his seat beside me. “Besides, the guy probably makes a shit ton of money with the way we all tip like David Bowie out on a world tour.”
Warm laughter fills the table smoothly smothering out the tension, and I toss a look of gratitude his direction.
The slight nod on a half-cocked smile is given so inconspicuously that unless you were an expert in his body language you wouldn’t think twice about the subtle action.
Daniel doesn’t actually have any problem with Tate. No, he doesn’t know him – other than the stories I’ve told – however, he isn’t opposed to changing that. He’s even offered to take him for a round on the green to clear the air and try to build a bridge so that Tate and I fight less about my friendship with him, but the idea is unsettling to me. It’s not that my boyfriend is a violent psychopath that I feel will beat him to death with a golf club on hole nine, it’s just that I wouldn’t put it past him to “accidentally” swing the club around to nail him in the dick.
Call it instinct.
“I see our last guest has arrived,” Abel warmly states upon his approaching of the table. “My name’s Abel-” the rehearsed speech is cut short and swapped for a genuine one the instant he settles his stare on me. “Oh, hey, Harper!”
Offering him a huge grin is mindlessly done. “Hey, Abel.”
“Didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Tate must’ve forgot to mention it.”
“Can’t mention something I didn’t know,” his voice unexpectedly states from over my shoulder, summoning my gaze up to him. “Why didn’t I know?”
“Is this the boyfriend you mentioned when you arrived?” Dr. Rue Young, the retired swimsuit model, Japanese American neurosurgeon sitting across from Daniel inquires.
“Ar a laghad tá tú luaite liom,” Tate viciously bites an all too familiar and annoying Irish phrase.
“Yes, I fucking mentioned you,” I murmur under my breath in no mood for his attitude prior to tossing a phony grin the direction of Rue. “And yes, this is the boyfriend I previously mentioned, Tate O’Clery.” My hand gestures between him and the table. “Tate these are some of my friends from work.” One by one I introduce them and their title, ending with Daniel on a lighthearted, “And of course you know the man who steals coffee from my office.”
“It’s complimentary,” my ex-husband teases in the same nature he always does.
Mirth isn’t found in Tate’s tone whatsoever. “Bueno, el precio por tratando de acostarte con mi novia es más de lo que tu puedes pagar.”
The translation for that Spanish statement is not only aggressive, it’s off putting.
Daniel isn’t trying to sleep with me!
And saying it’s more than he could pay makes me sound like a fucking hooker!
And lastly, that isn’t a fight we should have in front of these people of all people!
Thank God none of them are fluent in Spanish.
“Those were two totally different languages,” Crue chimes in, curiosity caked in his voice. “The first I’m not sure what-”
“Scottish?” Guesses Cait.
“Irish,” Abel corrects for his coworker.
“And the second was some sort of Spanish or Spanglish,” Crue continues, leaning back in his seat. “How many languages do you speak young man?”
“Fluently, three. Not fluently four, sir.”
“You can speak seven languages?” Craig screeches from behind his cocktail glass. “Do you have any idea how impressive that is on a resume?”
Tate doesn’t answer.
It’s probably for the best.
“You should totally be working somewhere better than this,” Rue adds in what I imagine is supposed to be an inspiring versus condescending tone.
Irritation flares in his green gaze pushing me to remove him from the situation before things can spiral completely out of control for the both of us. I lovingly place a hand on his lower stomach to pull his stare down to me. “Do you have time for a five-minute break?”
