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I barely knew him. I didn’t want a baby with him.
And if I sort of thought that maybe someday I might, clearly I needed to cool off my libido in a dark room.
Brady was mid-tirade about my questionable decision-making process and I was mid ignoring him when a sharp series of knocks on a nearby window had me turning my head. Mickey stood outside, motioning frantically then giving me the thumbs up at something or someone she saw inside.
Frowning, I wheeled away from the table and stood to peer over the divider that surrounded the Dispatch area, only to see Jimmy kicked back in a chair with a headset on, speaking to God knows who and grinning his naughtiest grin.
I sighed. “Collecting belt bunnies already?”
He shrugged innocently.
I hurried over to the exit to meet Mickey outside while my brother called after me. “Sorry, gotta go meet my preggo partner,” I called thoughtlessly over my shoulder as I hurried outside.
Pregnancy pacts. What the actual hell? Did we look like irrational teens?
I’d have to tell Tab to keep a better eye on what he was allowed to do with the remote. Porn would be a much better choice than the Lifetime channel.
Mickey met me at the doors. “Preggo say what? I just finished at the bakery and was going to ask if you wanted to get a bucket of chicken when you’re done. If you’re free. With loverboy around, who knows? Also, who’s that hottie with the sex eyes?”
“Trouble. Steer clear. I’ll explain it later.” I let out a breath. I’d told Christian I’d wait but he wasn’t done yet and I’d officially had my fill of Brady and deep conversations for the night.
I’d just console myself with some fried chicken and some bestie time before I hopefully was banged into oblivion and forgot all my problems.
Mickey licked her lips as she peered inside again, most likely scoping out Jimmy. “Trouble is my favorite word.”
ELEVEN
I hadno intention of eating a third of a bucket of chicken while gossiping with Mickey, since I had no idea if my plans with Christian would involve food. Yet if there was a woman strong enough to turn down freshly fried chicken, it was not me.
Mickey and I split a bucket in a booth while gossiping about anything and everything. As best friends do, we commented on everyone who came through along with whatever good intel we’d picked up over the last day. Which, sadly, wasn’t much.
“You’re still the hot topic. You and Christian and how soon until you ride off in the happily-ever-after sunset.” She mimed having a large belly and I tossed a piece of crispy skin at her.
“Not everyone ends up married here. Some people do date.”
And some people just basically told their brother they’d be okay being a stay-at-home mom instead of a teacher.
“Yeah, who? Give me names and birthdates and astrological signs.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Plenty. You’re a Capricorn. You’re built to settle down. What’s Christian’s sign?”
“I have no idea.”
Mickey rolled her eyes. “Don’t you do any prep work before you hop in the sack?”
I snorted. “Right, like you did so much prep work before you climbed on that teacher’s assistant.”
“For your information, he climbed on me.” She tossed her wavy dark hair. “Thank you very much.”
“I’m just saying. We are just having fun.” Even as I said it, I knew I doth protest too much. I had spent the past week obsessing about the dude and it seemed unlikely that was a temporary affliction.
“Sure. I believe you.”
I threatened her with more crispy chicken and she shrugged. “How about we talk about the new guy? The one who was undressing me with his eyes through the window.” She bit on the end of her straw thoughtfully. “He had his feet propped on his desk.”
“You know that’s an old wives’ tale. A guy can have a massive dick and not have massive feet.”
