For fuck’s sake! Can’t a guy catch a break?
“Team meeting!” Boss marched to the railing and hollered down to the shop floor. “Let’s gather in the War Room!”
The windy blast of the blowtorch quieted. Whoever had been using the metal grinder switched off the tool. And the only sound left in the whole place was Ozzie’s music. But a second later, Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man”—RIP Ozzy Osbourne—was silenced in the middle of the third verse.
“Do I have time to change?” Sabrina asked over Hew’s shoulder. When he glanced back, he saw her tug at the belt on her robe.
He wanted to tug it.
With his teeth.
Ayuh. He’d spent nine months refusing to allow himself to have thoughts like that. Or, at the very least, shutting them down quickly when they reared their ugly heads. And all it’d taken was a few words from her and suddenly he was all Horny McHornerson.
Then again, he couldn’t chastise himself too much. Because, at the end of the day, he was just a man. And she was a beautiful woman who?—
“Two minutes.” Boss dipped his chin toward Sabrina. “You’re a major player in this discussion.”
She gave a curt nod, squared her shoulders like the trooper she was, and ran up the stairs.
Don’t watch her go. Don’t watch her go. Don’t?—
Hew watched her go.
Loving the flash of her smooth, bare legs. Loving the way her peach-shaped ass pressed against the silk. But he managed to wrench his eyes away when she climbed high enough for him to sneak a peek beneath the hem of her robe.
He might be just a man, as debauched as the next—probably more so—but he drew the line at Peeping Tom.
After dropping into a seat at the long conference table, he frowned when Fish slid into the chair beside him. The chair usually reserved for Sabrina.
After a quick glance his way, Fish’s eyebrows drew together over his nose. “You okay, bruh?”
Hew refrained from sighing heavily. “You’re the second person to ask me that question in the last ten minutes.”
“Probably because your face is screaming even though your mouth is clamped so tight I can almost see your teeth through your cheeks.”
“Don’t you usually sit over there?” Hew hitched his chin toward the seat across the table.
Fish craned around to look at his chair. He bent side to side and then used his hand to feel around beneath the seat.
“What are ya doin’?” Hew finally asked in annoyance.
“Seeing if someone pinned a sign with their name to this chair.”
“Oh, haha. Very funny. You plannin’ to take your show on the road sometime soon?”
Fish just smirked as he settled back into place. “Who ate your bowl of sunshine this morning, thundercloud?”
Hew dragged a hand down his face, hoping to wipe away his expression. He realized he was only slightly successful when Fisher continued to study him with narrowed eyes.
“Is Sabrina okay?” Fish finally asked. “No lingering effects from her abduction or the dehydration?”
All the jealousy Hew had felt since she flounced downstairs to take the hedge fund manager’s call came out in his clipped tone.
“Seems fine. She certainly raced down here, quick as her legs could take her, to talk to Martin Massey.”
“Ah.”
It was a single syllable. But it held a wealth of meaning.
