I push the door open, walk into the reception area, and see Arlo on the phone. I miss Blake’s grandmother, June, manningthe desk. But after her stroke, she’s not up to it anymore. We all know we need a replacement, but none of us is ready to admit defeat. Instead, we scramble to handle it between ourselves. It wouldn’t have been too bad, but Aiden’s girl is Matilda Carson, America’s sweetheart and former actress turned director. With her openly endorsing Price Security, everyone wants us to protect them. We are turning people away because we can only handle so many cases at once. If things continue as they are, it won’t just be a new receptionist we need. We’ll also need to bring in some guys.
Arlo hangs up and sighs before kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk. “I feel like my brain is leaking out of my ear.”
I snort and walk over to the sofa and plunk my ass down. “Do I even want to know?”
He leans forward and pretends to twirl an imaginary strand of hair. “I’d like someone to guard my body. I mean, be my bodyguard.” He adopts an airy voice and throws in a little high-pitched laugh, which makes me chuckle. “Can I, like, order the hottest guy you have? I can make it worthwhile. I give really good tips, if you know what I mean.”
“They did not say that.”
“I swear she was two seconds away from offering a blow job as a deposit.”
The look of disgust on his face has me roaring with laughter. “I’m guessing you turned her away.”
“I told her we had real cases with people who had real reasons for needing protection, then hung up. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people?”
“I wish I knew.” I sigh, rubbing my eyes.
He studies me for a minute before frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a damn clue. It’s just a weird feeling I can’t seem to shake.”
He leans back and closes his eyes, muttering something under his breath before he looks at me. “I learned a long time ago to listen to weird feelings. They’ve saved my life more than once. Be fucking nice, though, if for once, those weird feelings led to the winning lotto numbers.”
I grin before getting up and heading over to the coffee machine. “Did you make this?” I hold the half-filled pot up to him. Nobody makes coffee as strong as Arlo does.
“No, Blake did. Why?”
“Because I’m already having a weird day without adding hallucinations to the mix.”
He rolls his eyes. “There ain’t nothing wrong with my coffee.”
“Sure, if you’re okay with hearing colors.”
He flips me off as I pour us both a mug and hand one over to him. I take a sip of mine as Marcus walks out from the back with a face like thunder.
“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Arlo grunts.
Marcus ignores him and heads for the coffee pot. He pours himself a large mug before taking a few sips. It takes him a few minutes, but once he’s calm, he turns to face us.
“You good?” I ask him before taking another sip of my own drink.
“I wish I was into dick.”
I choke, spraying us both with coffee.
He blinks at me before wiping his face. “As I don’t like things being sprayed on my face, it’s unlikely that will change anytime soon.”
“Have you been drinking? Wait, have I been drinking? This feels an awful lot like a fucked-up dream I once had.”
“Aw, you dreaming about me, sugar plum?” Marcus teases.
I shudder and grimace. “More like a nightmare.”
He chuckles and continues to sip his drink, his earlier mood lifted.
“So, wanna explain why you walked in here with a face like a slapped ass?” Arlo asks.
Marcus sighs. “Just ended it with a woman I was seeing.”
