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Her eyes welled, and she bit the inside of her mouth but remained still. Her tears were threatening to drop if she moved even a muscle.
“I’m good at reading between the lines and reading people.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “You are.”
Dahlia turned away, eating another pretzel, finding it harder to swallow with the knot in her throat. She shouldn’t be this emotional years later. She’d spent a third of her life without her father. Surely, the grieving process should have gotten easier. No. The phrase “time heals all wounds” was only a myth. Dahlia was living proof of that.
Dahlia looked up at the clock hanging on the wall, and her nerves spiked. Not only was she definitely going to be late, but time was closing in on visiting hours ending. Dahlia tapped her foot, rolling her neck.
“If you’re concerned about being able to see your friends before visiting hours are over? Don’t. I’ll get you in.”
Dahlia smiled. He really was good at reading people.
“You have connections here?”
Sal arched his brow and smirked. “I have connections everywhere.” He said it with so much confidence she almost believed him.
“Well, that solves one problem.”
“What’s the other problem?”
Dahlia sighed. “I have to work tonight, and as it stands, I’m going to be late. I called to see if someone could cover for me, but apparently, they don’t allow it. And…my boss, well, one of them, is um…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “He’s not the most reasonable man. Something tells me this good news wouldn’t mean much to him. Not quite sure anything does except maybe himself.” Dahlia chuckled. “But as long as he doesn’t show up early, I should be fine.”
“Everyone deserves time off.”
Dahlia laughed.
“What?” Sal asked.
She licked her lips, trying to explain while still maintaining professionalism. It was a hard task with regard to Rogue.
“I just started, so I’m on probation. And apparently, he hates me, so he’d love nothing more than a reason to fire me.”
“Excuse my language, but he sounds like an asshole.”
Again, he was good at reading people.
“Well, you know what they say, Sal. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
He burst out laughing, choking on a pretzel. Dahlia quickly shifted in her seat, reached behind him, and tapped his back. His eyes welled, and he cleared his throat.
“From my experience, men like your boss aren’t as tough as they appear.”
It was probably an accurate assessment in most situations. But…you don’t know Rogue, Sal.
“No.” Dahlia snorted. “I’m pretty sure he lives up to his reputation.”
She grabbed another pretzel. “It must be a miserable life, always being that mean and negative. Getting off by putting others down. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
Sal nodded and gave a half-shrug. “Everybody is bred differently, right? Look at you. Have a good family that raised you right, probably lots of love and coddling, making you feel like the princess you are. You’re a product of where you come from and how you were built. Not everyone is so lucky.”
No, they weren’t. It gave Dahlia cause to think. She had been very fortunate that her parents loved her, would have done anything for her, and raised her to be who she was. Not everyone had that. Aside from being an owner of the club, she knew nothing of Rogue.
“Maybe I’m not good at reading people, and he’s not an asshole?”
Sal side-eyed her.
“No, he sounds like an asshole. But he might just have a reason for being one.” Sal winked and lifted his chin. “What about the other one?”
