“Wow. That’s…great. Um, so, about the hotel, it’s kind of expensive and?—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“What?”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant. I should be payingyoufor this, not?—”
“Getting paid to fuck you might be a little weird.”
She looks horrified. “Oh, right. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“I was kidding, Kit.”
“Okay, but if you need anything?—”
“Like money?” I dead eye her.
“Yeah.”
“No.” I heft the glasses and water pitcher.
“Right.” She lets out a loud, exhausted sigh. “So, do you mind my place? For the…”
“Event?” I’m smirking. The woman’s fucking cute when she’s embarrassed.
“Yes.”
“Your place is fine.” I glance over at the staff table and catch Frida’s attention on me, then on Kit, head tilted, eyes narrowed, then back to me. One grey eyebrow lifts in question. I turn back to Kit. “Better go eat.”
“Right.” She nods and scoots out from behind the bar, as awkward as I’ve ever seen her. Makes me want to wrap my arms around her and pull her up against my chest, tuck her head right up under my chin. Makes me want to promise shit I’ve got no business thinking about.
I’m putting it all out of my mind this very fucking second.
But then I remember the way she bit her lip just now, the way she didn’t for one second protest my fucking her behind the bar last night, not to mention the fact that she just handed me a goddamn sex schedule, and decide that with three weeks left, bending the rules isexactlywhat this situation calls for.
Kit
The phone rings just before the doors open. I pick it up.
“Collect call from the State Penitentiary Facility.”
With my usual excitement at hearing from my brother, I press the button to accept.
“Frank?”
“Hey, sis. What’s up?”
“Not much. You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, got some news.”
“What’s that?”
“So, there’s a parole hearing coming up.”
“Right. Next year.”
