“Why?” I replied flatly. “You know I like an audience when I’m getting myself off.”
You didn’t live with two men for as long as I had and not learn a thing or two. When it came to jokes about sex, men were still teenage boys. It was all fun and games until a woman—especially one they considered a sister—turned it back around on them.
As I’d hoped, Mark’s whole face went up in flames. “Ohhhhhkay, then,” he drawled, reaching for the door, his feet already shuffling backward.
Laughing, I stopped him before he could make a getaway. “I’m kidding. What’s up? Why were you calling me?”
As always, he recovered quickly. “Brought food home from the bar. You want some?”
Unlike The Wave, The Rusty Nail was a bar through and through. Not exactly known for their food unless it was two a.m. and everyone was plastered, in which case it had three Michelin stars.
I shifted my computer to the nightstand and stood up. “I was actually just about to head out. Can you save me a plate?”
He poked his stomach out, his usually firm abs shaping into a round belly. “I’m going to tell you yes and even go so far as to make you a plate and put it in the fridge, but I make no promises it will still be there when you get home. So, plan accordingly.”
Laughing, I walked into my closet. I’d been wearing sandals with my short, cream, lace boho-chic dress while showing houses all day, but the possibility of seeing Bowen again called for an upgrade. “I’ll bring home sushi.”
“Oh, text me when you get there. I might need some spicy tuna.”
I had no idea how Mark stayed in shape. He never stopped eating.
“Will do.” I stepped into a pair of wedges and then froze when I saw my cursed maxi dress balled up in the corner, right where I’d banished it as soon as we’d gotten home from the courthouse. Smiling to myself, I remembered the empty spot in Bowen’s wallet. Could he really be mad if I stopped by to return the safety pin he’d loaned me and then attempt to hire him for a job that was going to line his pocket? Nobody was upset to see a customer walk through the door. Plus, I owed the man a drink. Maybe Bowen liked bubble tea too?
Coconut milk tea with cranberry pearls was the flavor of the day along with the most decadent chocolate-iced peanut butter cookies roughly the size of my face. I nixed the cranberry for pomegranate—because let’s be honest, nobody liked cranberry—and waited while they made half the cookies with no icing just in case someone didn’t like chocolate. Assuming Michaels & Company wasn’t a one-man show, I went big.
Trust me. Happy employees meant a happy boss, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to need all the help I could get with Bowen.
What? Bribery never hurt anyone.
“Oh, wow,” the young blonde receptionist greeted as I walked through the front door, my arms filled with deliciousness. She immediately walked around her desk, saying, “Let me help you with that.” Like any normal, logical human, she tried to take the carrier of four teas from my hand first, but they were too precariously balanced for her to be able to grab them without making me drop everything else.
“Wait. Grab this.” I turned to the side, performing what I considered to be a damn near heroic juggling act, and angled a box of cookies in her direction.
When I was a kid, my father and I used to play Jenga every Saturday night. He’d drink root beer and put on a baseball game while I set up, and then we’d flip a coin to see who went first. Any abs I had were the product of repeatedly doubling over in laughter as the whole tower fell on my dad’s first turn. He. Was. Awful.
And as the woman took the purse dangling from my fingers instead of the box on top, it was safe to say she was equally as horrible at Jenga.
With the unexpected shift in weight, it was a whole hopeless chain reaction. The cup carrier toppled to the left, and in a real Sophie’s Choice, I dropped the box of cookies in an effort to save the drinks. Such was my luck, I was fast enough to grab one. Also, such was my luck—it slipped from the carrier, leaving me to watch in horror as the other three exploded against the tile floor.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, milk tea splashing everywhere, red fruity pearls bouncing around the waiting area like the balloon drop on New Year’s Eve.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed as liquid dripped from her pencil skirt.
Right, okay. So, fun fact: Bribery can in fact hurt someone.
And then, because it was my life, it got worse.
