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No change?
I gave the guy over a hundred.
I sighed as I closed the door and followed him to the kitchen where he set the bags down, then reached inside to start pulling out everything.
“How much food did you get?” I asked as the containers kept piling up.
“Well, I don’t know what the lady likes,” he said, making me just barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. “So, I got three different kinds of eggs. All the meat sides. Hashbrowns and breakfast potatoes. Three different kinds of pancakes, two different kinds of crepes, waffles, and french toast. Oh, and some omelets. And, because breakfast wouldn’t be complete without it, I got us each a large orange juice. No pulp,” he said as he pulled out three to-go cups. “Mine has all the buttons punched down,” he said as he pushed them down.
Unable to talk about her issue in front of loudmouth Barry, we all just dug into the food.
I mostly sat back and listened to Shale talk to Barry about everything from favorite foods to which superhero movie franchise was the best. And every fucking thing in between.
I would normally be annoyed by all the talking as someone who liked his peace and quiet. But I was finding Shale’s answers interesting, so I wasn’t annoyed by Barry for a change.
“Barry, you’re gonna have to head out,” I told him. “I have a job to work on now,” I added.
He looked a little deflated.
Until Shale offered to play that game with him when she got a few free minutes. And I told him he could take as many of the leftovers as he wanted.
That seemed to lessen the blow of getting kicked out.
Within an hour of us finishing eating, he was heading out with enough food to feed a family of four for a week.
“I should be at the cafe,” Shale said into the silence of the space after he was gone.
“One day won’t kill your business. Hopefully, I can get some shit worked out enough for you to be able to open tomorrow. Even just half a day.”
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked, looking around.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her, and I could have sworn her lips twitched a bit at that. “Get comfortable. This shouldn’t take me too long,” I told her as I moved over toward my desk, sitting down, and firing everything up.
While I waited, I reached for my phone, texting one of my friends to ask for the number for Hope, Andrés Alcazar’s woman. Once I had that, I shot her a text, telling her who I was, and asking for a meeting with her man.
She took her time, likely needing to track him down to ask, and while I waited on that, I started working on getting access to the cameras at the docks.
Shale cleaned up after breakfast, made another pot of coffee, and went back into the bedroom to, I imagined, make the bed.
When she emerged again, she moved toward the windows, looking out.
I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding in her direction, my gaze moving over her body, my mind imagining walking over there, lowering down, pulling her leg over my shoulder, and tasting her sweet pussy as she looked out at the world.
“Fuck,” I hissed, shaking my head.
“Something wrong?” she asked, looking over, then moving toward me. Like I needed her closer. She was distracting enough half a room away.
“No,” I said, focusing back on what I was doing.
But she still came closer.
Right behind my chair, her hands grabbing the back of it.
Then, as I got in and started to scan through footage, she leaned forward, trying to see what I was looking at.
Her fucking hair brushed my shoulder.
As she leaned closer, her breast brushed against me dragging a rumbling sound out of my chest.
