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“She doesn’t need to hear the gory details,” Evan cut in.
Cole paused for a moment, then acknowledged his friend by dropping the subject. He poured me another coffee, and then finished the pot himself.
“One thing though,” Evan told me pointedly. “That perimeter of claymores saved your life last night.”
“Probably saved all of our lives,” Joshua chimed in.
As dangerous as it seemed, I couldn’t argue. These men were soldiers — they’d seen long years of tough combat. They’d survived ambushes. They’d setupambushes too, and in this case, it was a good thing that they had.
“Alright, point taken,” I agreed. “I’ll stick to the driveway and stay out of the woods.”
“Ah shit,” smirked Evan. “Now we have to tell her about the driveway traps, too?”
“Nah. Let her find those out for herself,” winked Joshua.
Pulling back my fork, I flung the rest of my eggs their way. Evan took the brunt of the assault. Joshua ducked beneath the table at the last second, so I hit him with my napkin on the way up.
“Alright, well I’ve got class in an hour,” I said, standing up. “And work after that. So I’ll be upstairs getting dressed and—”
A hand closed over my mine. Cole’s expression was serious.
“You’re not going to work, Quinn.”
I laughed as I pulled myself free. “Oh no? Watch me.”
The three of them shared a concerned look. I rolled my eyes at them.
“What he means is, you shouldn’t be going anywhere,” Joshua said more gently. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “And?”
“Just look at your face,” Evan pleaded. “It’s not exactly… appetizing.”
“Yeah, well it’s a good thing I don’t serve the food,” I went back at him. “I only cook it.”
With that I spun on my heel and headed for the exit. I knew they wouldn’t stop me. They couldn’t stop me. As much as I respected them for looking out for me, I hadn’t changed my work-school lifestyle one bit. And that wasn’t about to start now.
Besides, if I were starting my food truck business shortly I had a shit-ton of things to do. One of them included giving Trey my two week notice, effective tonight.
Oh boy.
I jogged up the stairs on the tender balls of my feet. Trey would laugh in my face, rage, curse me out, and then laugh again — probably in that order. I expected to get abused for the next two weeks, but I was hoping one look at the bruises on my face might earn me some mercy points. Not that Trey still wouldn’tdothose things, of course. But with a little bit of luck, maybe he’d take his rage out on someone else.
On the flip side, there were at least three other chefs willing to stab each other with a boning knife for my job. One or two of them might even be competent, although nowhere near as competent as me.
“Hey, Clubber.”
Evan caught up with me in my bedroom, halfway through pulling my T-shirt over my head. Normally I would’ve stopped, out of modesty. But now?
Shit, now there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.
“Clubber?” I chided him, turning around. “I assume that’s a fighting reference?”
For one extremely humorous moment he was at a loss for words. Probably because he was staring at my tits.
“Uhh, yeah,” he fumbled. “Rocky. Third movie.”
“I’m pretty sure the third movie sucks.”
