“She’s just a little tired.” I rub a hand on the back of my neck, feeling like that was the lamest thing I could have said.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he nods, seemingly buying it. I mean, technically, it’s not a lie; it’s just not the whole truth.
“How could she not be tired dealing with the lot of you?” Vince huffs as he walks into the kitchen, moving to the fridge and grabbing a beer.
Huh, that’s not something I see every day.
Don’t get me wrong, I know Vince drinks, but usually it's when he’s ‘off duty’ or later once the day is winding down, maybe even with dinner occasionally. As it stands, it's not even dinnertime yet.
“Rough day?” I ask, nodding at the bottle.
He scowls down at the bottle as if he didn’t even realize he had it before he grumbles something I can’t quite make out.
Dale looks at me with a raised brow, but I have no idea what’s going on, so I just shrug.
Vince heads out of the kitchen without answering me or even looking my way again, and, yeah, something about this doesn’t sit right with me.
“Hey, what’s eating you?” I ask as I jog after him to catch up.
“Nothing, Des.” He waves me off like he doesn’t know me. As if he thinks I’ll believe that for even a fucking second.
“I’m serious, Vince, what crawled up your ass?” He glares at me, but that’s all the reaction I get, and yeah, something is definitely wrong.
“Alright, well, I guess you leave me no choice then.” He raises a brow as he presses the mouth of his bottle to his lips and takes a gulp but still doesn’t attempt to stop me.
I’ll fix that, though.
“Let me guess, you're grumpy because you had to drive Kat back from the office, freshly fucked, with a raging boner. The only thought on your mind the entire way back was what it would feel like to fuck her, to just pull the car to the side of the road and bend her over one of the back seats. Oh, or maybe even have her come up front and suck your cock while you drive back.”
Vince chokes, like actually chokes on his beer, spewing it all over the place as he gasps for air.
Damn, I might have laid it on a little thick; now I’m hard again. I adjust as Vince tries and fails to get himself under control, and I take pity on him, smacking his back a few times in an attempt to help.
He’s folded forward, his hands braced on his knees as he heaves in air. His beer sits forgotten on the floor at his feet as he glares up at me, his beard shining with the mess.
Huh, maybe sharing with Vince wouldn’t be so bad, especially if he’s going to react like this.
I’ve never seen anything fluster Vince.
I wonder just how far I can push… I guess there's only one way to find out.
“Was that not it?” I ask, trying to sound innocent. I know I fail because I couldn’t be innocent if my life depended on it, but oh well.
“No, fuckface, that’s not it.” He stands, scrubbing a hand down his face with a groan of annoyance that I’m all too used to.
“Oh, did you not know that Dad fucked the shit out of her? Laid her out on the desk like the most beautiful feast, but that was after he fingered her during a meeting, and she crawled under the desk to return the favor, apparently, or that’s what Alex said at least. I missed that part.”
He turns and walks away, mumbling something incoherent as he goes, which only makes me smile more.
I snatch his beer off the ground and follow him again.
“So if that’s not the problem, what is?” I ask, taking a swig of his beer. Can’t let it go to waste after all.
His eyebrows pinch as he watches me, and he snatches the bottle back, right out of my mouth.
“You’re not very good at sharing, you know.” I chide him with a smile that I know is anything but nice.
Shit-eating, I believe, is what Alex calls it.
