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“The hell he will. That’s mine!”
The saleswoman freezes, her eyes darting from Matty to me and back again. I pull out my black card and stick it between her fingers. “Mine.” She gets the message and scurries off.
I turn toward Matty with a triumphant smile and get a fist in the eye.
“You deserved that one,” he pants. “Payback for the other day.”
“You walked into my house unannounced and saw my woman without her clothes on.”
“Maybe don’t have sex in the living room,” he shouts.
It’s probably that exchange that resulted in Matty and me getting kicked out of the store by four burly security guards. In the cab, Matty glares at me.
“You should let up the pressure on those flowers,” I suggest. “You’re about to snap the heads off.”
“You smug bastard,” he snarls.
“Hey, I suggested we buy those. You should be thanking me or you’d show up on Blake’s doorstep emptyhanded.”
“That’s my red purse.” He tries to reach for the white box on my lap. I fend him off.
“I don’t think red’s your color.” I tap the cab driver’s shoulder. “Turn here.”
“I’m going to pay you back.”
“I let you punch me. Isn’t that enough?”
“Here?” the driver asks at Morgan’s big black gate.
“Yep. Take this one home.” I hand the driver a couple of bills. “Keep the change.” To Matty, I say, “No need to thank me for paying for your cab ride.”
I only get a middle finger in return.
“Sir? Do you need an ice pack?” says the gate guard. He brings his finger up to his eye.
“Nah. It doesn’t really hurt.” I start up the drive and then turn back. “Does it look bad?”
“It looks painful.”
“You think that’s a bad thing or a positive thing?”
“For Miss Morgan?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t say, sir.”
“It just adds character, right?”
The guard nods. At the house, though, my confidence slips in the face of Alfred’s disapproval.
“Another fight?” he says through pursed lips.
My jaw drops open. “She told you about the one at the house?” I can’t believe she shared with this butler dude that Matty and I got into a fight because he saw me going down on her. How did she explain that?
“The house?” His brows crash together. “I was referring to the restaurant.”
“Ahh.” Of course, she didn’t discuss that. Maybe the fist to my face has rattled my brain. “Right. The restaurant.” I heft the box between us. “I’m here with a gift for Morgan. She around?”
