“I’ll bet she goes for nice guys.” Beck drains his glass and slides it to the end of the table, signaling the server for a refill. “Maybe I should work in the main office more often. Get to know her better.”
Like hell.
What is even happening right now? I press my palms to my thighs, flexing my fingers under the table.
“Sorry.” Miles gives me theaw-shucksgrin he typically reserves for helping little old ladies cross the street and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Beck’s right. Scarlett would never go for a guy like you.” He winks at me. The bastard actually winks at me as he delivers the blow. “You’re not her type. At all.”
Something like indignation erupts deep in my chest. “I’mexactlyher type,” I bite out.
Fuck.
Where had that come from? And since when does a little needling from my brothers result in an emotional outburst?
Clearly, I need to get more sleep.
“I knew it!” Miles crows with a victorious smile, jabbing a finger in Beck’s direction. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Beck chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “I really didn’t think he’d crack that fast.”
Fucking fuck. They played me.
And like a damn fool, I fell for it.
Oreo must sense my discomfort, because she rubs her tiny body against my ankle and lies down with her chin resting on the toe of my shoe.
“So what’s the deal with you two, anyway?” Miles asks, wiping perspiration from the side of his glass. He looks surprisingly relaxed, given his brother is hooking up with his favorite employee.
“Unlike some people,” I say, fishing another biscuit out of my pocket for Oreo, “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Miles’s spine stiffens, and he sits up straighter. “When have you ever known me to kiss and tell?”
“Ninth grade,” Beck says, not missing a beat. “You bragged about kissing Madison Clarke under the bleachers during the homecoming game.”
“Yeah, and the ass kicking I got from her brother showed me the error of my ways.” Miles pauses as the server approaches, arms laden with plates. She slides a spinach salad down in front of Beck before placing platters of brisket before Miles and me. The instant she’s gone, Miles picks up where he left off, like he’d simply been on pause. “I have the utmost respect for women. Which is why you’d better treat Scarlett right and not fuck her over,” he continues, leveling me with his stare. “If she quits because—”
“You can stop right there,” I say, holding up a hand. “It’s not like that with Scarlett and me. We aren’t dating or…whatever.”
After the mess with Ashley, I have no interest in overly complicated relationships.
Miles and Beck exchange one of those impossible to decipher looks before they both turn back to me.
“Does she know that?” Miles asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.
The skepticism in his voice grates. I’m not such an asshole that I’d intentionally mislead a woman. Then again, I can’t exactly fault him for asking. I’m not the best communicator.
“Yes, of course. What kind of asshole do you take me for?”
Beck sighs and picks up his fork. “One who doesn’t understand women.”
Coming from him, it lands like a low blow.
Dammit.
Maybe it was a mistake to sleep with Scarlett, but it’s a decision I can’t bring myself to regret. It’s only been two days, and already I want her back in my bed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Scarlett
