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"No." I frown, shaking my head.
My eyes ache. I have to glance away. I bite my lip, sucking in a deep breath. When exactly did I become so damn weak?
"You are," Oakley whispers, watching me carefully.
I shake my head vehemently. Shit. I don't even know who I'm trying to convince at this point.
"No, I'm not," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Dex is charismatic. Lots of people fall for his charm. Just be careful."
Oakley doesn't back down.
"What does that mean?"
"Dex loves to play the field. Don't assume you're both exclusive or faithful. That's all I'm saying. Be clear about your expectations or you could get hurt."
"We're just friends," Oakley says. The look on her face is so damn sincere. Too bad I can't believe a word of what she said.
Shit, I really am in a foul mood.
"Jamen Jacobs wants us to work together. That's the only reason Dexter even talks to me. It's also why I wanted to see if there's a problem between us. You don't seem to like me very much," Oakley says, stepping closer and studying my face.
I rub at my belly.
The low ache is getting worse, but I'm sure it's Braxton-Hicks.
"Are you all right?" Oakley asks. She reaches out to steady my arm.
"I'll be fine, just a little of those practice contractions."
"Aww, damn. All right, do the momma cow shuffle," Oakley says, doing a weird shimmy with her hips.
"What?" I scoff.
"Hell if I know." Oakley grins. "It's just what our cows did when they were practicing. They'd get restless, raise their tails. Stand up and lie down. Pace around. We called it the momma shuffle. Let's do it."
She offers me an arm. I look at her like she's stupid, until another wave of tightening comes. That's when I take her arm, obviously; because I'm a bitch, but I'm not stupid.
Oakley wraps her other arm around my back and we wade around the hallway of Ruined Records. It takes three trips down and back before they stop.
"Thank you," I whisper as the strange pains go away.
"No problem, girlie." Oakley grins at me. "Take care of yourself, Love."
She turns and heads down the hall.
Oakley reminds me of Kitten a little, with that too sweet for their own good personality. The cheerful, optimistic disposition.
Maybe that's why I warned her. Maybe I was being a rotten person. It's hard to tell.
Oakley waves over her shoulder as she bounces down the hallway.
I'm exhausted and cranky, but doing everything I can to not let it show. My mind is still stuck on Oakley and our conversation earlier today.
We're sitting in the living room of the penthouse. Rooker Jacobs showed up ten minutes ago, wanting to talk to the guys about something.
Rook continues laying out the basics of the upcoming charity tour Ruined Records is partnering with. It's aligned with the pro-pack fundraisers, and it's for a good cause.
"I think it's a good idea," I say, like I get a vote.
