She pouted and whipped the little purple straw around her drink. “You shouldn’t make a guy your whole identity.”
Whoa. A slow burn of indignation started in my gut. “I’ve been told it’s my work I make my identity,” I said coolly.
“I’ll say.” She snickered. “Since the boss is your boyfriend.”
“We can do it another time.” I should’ve shut her down, but this was the second—third?—time she’d asked. Was she lonely? I knew about that. But also, what about her new husband? Didn’t she want to get lost in him?
Brock’s eye twitched. Was he wondering the same thing? Maybe he didn’t want his wife going out with me. Or was Cara his identity? Without her around, who would make him feel all powerful and manly?
Maybe I would meet Cara for a drink. We could go to Flatlanders Prohibited. That way, I could have a night out to show them I wasn’t waiting around on Tenor, and she’d never want to go out with me again after a night of Allen staring at her boobs.
“I’ll call you.” She pushed her empty glass toward the edge and tapped the counter with her finger.
Brock’s brow furrowed and he put a hand on her lower back. “Hey, hon. Let’s get home. I have plans for you,” he growled.
I held in a shudder, but Cara giggled. She slipped off her stool and draped herself over Brock. “By-ee, Rubes.”
She was on her way out the door when she turned and snapped her fingers. “What’s your number?” she called from the exit.
I was tempted to tell her to ask her husband, but I wouldn’t go that low. None of us wanted the reminder of me trailing after Brock like a lost puppy. Waiting for him at my apartment when he was two hours late—because he took a nap. In the coffee shop when he’d stood me up because he got so busy with work and “forgot” to call me.
The second time, he’d said he needed space to reevaluate what he wanted in life.
I’d been a doormat.
Was I still being a doormat? Tenor treated me remarkably better, yet I was waiting for him.
Crock was watching me and so were the customers.
Oh. “Just stop in some Friday night,” I said. “I’ll see if I’m free after.”
Perhaps Tenor would let me bunk with him if I was out late with Cara.
I did not want to go out with her.
As if I had summoned him, he entered from the lobby door. His brow crinkled when he saw Crock in the parking lot walking back to their car. He pinned me with his gaze, and concern fired in his eyes.
He nodded to Jason but swept past him, clearly on a mission. Jason opened his mouth and shut it.
“Everything okay?” Tenor asked.
The tension in my shoulders unknotted. “Cara asked me out.”
He arched a brow. “Are you going?”
“I dunno. Maybe?”
“Why?”
“I... don’t know. We used to be friends.”
His gaze darkened and his jaw was rock hard. “You used to date Brock. Would you go out with him again?”
“No,” I huffed.
“The guy I hated in school—he was abrasive at best. Mean at his worst. He was awful to me, and he’d corner me when no one was watching or when my brothers weren’t around. He never got physical, surprisingly, but his verbal assault always hit its target.”
“That’s awful.”
