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“Who is it?” I ask, trying not to sound accusing.
“My dad. I’ll call him back.” She refuses to look at me. Her fucking father.Prick. He’s the only bit of Beau I don’t like.
“Have you seen Danny?” Brad asks me, getting comfortable on a stool.
“Yes, I’ve seen him. I was with him this afternoon.” I take the stool next to him and accept the glass Beau slides across to me.
“I just left their place.”
“And?” I ask.
“Let’s just say, the Antarctic is looking pretty fucking appealing for a summer vacation right now.” Brad grimaces at me as I down the juice. “What is that shit?”
“Try some,” Beau says, pushing a glass toward him. “It’ll make you big, strong, and healthy.”
“I’m already big, strong, and healthy. And”—he strokes across his stubble—“good-looking too.”
Beau rolls her eyes. “You need more in your life than the gym and a strip club.”
“Like what?”
“A woman,” she says, splitting her attention between Brad and her juice, her eyebrow arched. “Or a long-standing one, at least.”
“What the fuck?” Brad murmurs, looking at me. I can only shrug. He returns his attention to Beau, smiling, like she just doesn’t get it. “Beau, sweethe—”
“Do not call me sweetheart, Brad. Not if you want to keep your balls.”
I laugh into my glass. “That told you.”
“Beau,” he begins again. “My beautiful, ninja friend.” He raises a brow and Beau nods agreeably, going back to her juice. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” He laughs. “Jesus, we’re becoming outnumbered.”
“We’re?” Beau asks, her glass paused at her lips.
“The men,” he confirms, as if she needed it. The poor, clueless twat. “We’re supposed to be mafia, and soon there will be more women in this mafia family than men. We can’t have that.”
“No, no, we can’t have that,” Beau breathes, setting down her glass. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something,” she says, motioning down her sheet-covered body and to my naked chest.
Brad looks wholly unimpressed as he turns away from Beau to me. “Want a beer?”
I recoil. “Do I want a beer?” I parrot. “Now?” He is one brave man.
“Yes, we need to talk about Danny.”
Beau snorts and rounds the island, grabbing Brad by the ear, literally, and dragging him up from his seat. “Out,” she demands, switching her hold to his arm and twisting it, getting it up his back in one swift, effective move.
“Arhhhh!”
She ignores him, pushing his helpless body toward the door as I watch on, amused.
“Jesus, fuck, Beau!” Brad bends back awkwardly, trying to lessen the pain. “That fucking hurts.”
She shoves him outside and slams the door.
“That’s why I won’t get a woman,” he yells from beyond the wood. “You’re all fucking pussy-whipped, you pathetic fuckers.”
Beau hauls the door open again, growls, and Brad, quite wisely, backs away. “I can’t watch?” He just can’t help himself, and I laugh as Beau grabs the nearest thing to her—which happens to be a shoe—and chucks it at his head.
I’m in a full-on laughing fit by the time she’s scared Brad off, and, fuck, it feels good to laugh. I wipe at my eyes and find her.
