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“What? No. I got another job,” I said. “One where I don’t have to wear daisy dukes and cowboy boots.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. You sure this isn’t about that guy, though, right? I mean, he’s not trying to take you away from all your friends, and change your entire life, is he? That’s a classic abuser sign. Take you away from people you know.”
“It’s not like that,” I assured him. “I know how it looks, okay? But he’s a good guy.”
“He’s a biker,” Jim said, tone low.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
He sighed. “Sorry you’re leaving the team. You were getting along well.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Thanks, Jim. I appreciate you giving me the job. Sorry to leave you in the lurch.”
“Don’t worry about it. Delilah’s been wanting to take a few waitressing shifts. It’ll work out.”
With a wave, I left the office. As I closed the door behind me, I looked at Viper, who hadn’t moved.
I gestured to myself. “See? No harm. No foul.”
“He thinks I’m coercing you into quitting,” he said.
“How did—were youeavesdropping?”
He exhaled in annoyance. “I don’t eavesdrop.”
“No?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “If you weren’t eavesdropping, what else didn’t you hear?”
His mouth flickered and a smile cracked across his face.
It was such a change in his countenance it had me blinking in stupidity for several seconds.
“You called me your boyfriend.”
“Easiest way to explain you.”
He reached out and dropped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “I think that lie rolled off your tongue a bit too easily.”
I pushed against his side, which did absolutely nothing except make him laugh.
Like outright laugh. Not a chuckle. Not a chortle. A real laugh.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Let’s go to the locker room so I can grab my stuff.”
* * *
I was ravenous by the time Viper pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a bar and grill that smelled like fried oil, burgers, and wings.
The hostess sat us in a booth, and I immediately seized the menu.
“Get you something to drink?” the server asked as he approached our table.
“Oh, uh, the lightest beer you have on tap, please,” I said.
“Sure. May I see your ID?”
I dug my wallet out of my purse and extracted the ID.
The server stared at it for a moment and then smiled. “Happy belated birthday.”
