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“I can handle Jack,” she answers for me.
I belt out a genuine laugh because she’s got Jack pegged. “Yes, but he’s not the baggage I was referring to.”
She’s quiet, waiting for me to drop a bomb. I’m not ready to tell her about Mia, but there are other things going on she needs to know about.
“It’s not that bad,” I reassure her, and then explain the lawsuit from Bobby Hanson because we ‘accosted’ him at his office. The lawsuit is on Jack’s mind and the fact that Erin is working with someone to take him down agitates him.
“That’s bullshit. He should be the one in jail,” Sasha says angrily.
“I think we all agree on that one,” I say. “Erin can’t talk much about it because she doesn’t want to compromise the story, but she’s handling it.” That’s what we’re hoping, anyway.
“Using the press to take down a sleaze-ball. I like it.” A devious smile crosses her face and she shakes her head at her friend’s sense of justice.
“After that, the lawsuit against us won’t mean anything. It’s just a waiting game at this point.”
That’s not all of my baggage, but we’ve had enough drama for one day and I’m not in the right mindset to go there. Plus, I don’t want to scare her away, although I get the impression she doesn’t scare easily.
Sasha drums her fingers on the desk. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks me.
“Don’t you have to get your grandpa’s truck back right away?”
She shakes her head. “I can take it back later.”
Putting a finger through my belt loop, she tugs me out of the office, walking backwards and looking sexy as fuck. I realize I would follow her anywhere.
“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to tug on a man’s belt loop like that?”
“I like to live dangerously,” she laughs, and I’m like a puppy dog on a leash.
“Where are we going?” I ask, not that it matters.
She has a mischievous smile on her face as she leads me out the back door of the store. Walking through the alley, I take her hand in mine and we exit to the street between two buildings, heading towards the boardwalk.
“The beach?”
“It’s my favorite place.”
The boardwalk is full of tourists, and we navigate through the crowd.
“Hungry?” she asks, leading me over to a food hut up ahead.
“Starving.” We both survey the menu and settle on a couple of tacos each with Mexican street corn. My stomach grumbles because I didn’t have a chance to eat today yet.
While our food is being prepared, I walk over to one of the tourist stands and pay for a large beach blanket so we have something to sit on while we eat. It’s hot, so I grab an umbrella too, for shade.
“This is one of the best dates I’ve ever had,” Sasha says, as she eats her tacos under the umbrella I spent twenty minutes trying to stand up in the sand.
“That’s actually pretty sad,” I tell her, “but I’ll make up for it another time.”
She scrunches up her nose in that cute way of hers and laughs. “I guess guys my age just think paying for dinner and taking me to a club, even knowing I worked in a bar, was good enough to get laid.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation.
I bristle, shifting my weight and taking a bite of my taco, trying to muffle a groan at the thought of some other guy touching my girl.
“You don’t like it when I talk about other guys,” she remarks.
“No, I do not,” I admit gruffly.
I watch as she takes a sip from her drink and leaves behind an imprint of her pink lip gloss.
