Uhh, hate to do what?
Why is she standing from her chair?
Why isn’t she lifting her drink to take a sip?
Why the hell is she putting her purse strap over her shoulder?
“But Perry called, and he came home early to surprise me. I’d love to see where this night takes us, but my Valentine is requesting my presence.” She pouts her lip, but it falls flat on me.
I don’t believe her.
Not even for a second.
“You’re just going to leave?” I ask her, panic laced in my voice. I give her a look, thebest friendlook that says, “Please, Jesus, don’t leave me alone with him,” but because she’s the evil wench that she is, she deliberately doesn’t translate my plea.
“Yes, but you have Hornsby here to keep you company and possibly be your wingman.”
“Wingman?” Hornsby says. “Are you looking to hook up with someone, Penny?”
“What? No!” My cheeks flame with embarrassment. “No, I didn’t even want to come out tonight, but Blakely convinced me. I was fine with just hanging out at my place and eating a gallon of ice cream . . . errrr, I mean pint, a pint of ice cream.”
*Whispers* I actually meant what I said. A gallon. A full-on gallon of creamy, delicious milkiness. Possibly even with some sprinkles or chocolate fudge. Definitely cherries.
But of course I’m not going to admit that in front of Mr. Rock-Hard Body.
“She needed to get out. She hasn’t even celebrated her promotion yet,” Blakely says.
“You haven’t?” Hornsby asks. “Well then, it looks like we’re going to be ordering another round.” He turns his attention to Blakely. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your girl. I’ll make sure she has the best evening of her life.”
To my horror, Blakely winks. “I’m hoping you do.” She then leans into me and gives me a hug while whispering, “Please end up in his bed tonight and tell me all about it after.”
“Are you insane?” I say through gritted teeth just as she pulls away.
“I’ll miss you too, but we’ll catch up at work.” She boops my nose with her finger. “Love you.” And then she turns to Hornsby. “Take good care of my girl.”
“I will,” he answers as he lifts his glass toward her. And then, before I know what the hell just happened, I’m left alone with Eli Hornsby, sharing an intimate table in the back of the bar while romantic music plays above us. “Take a seat, stay a while,” he says, pushing out a stool for me with his wing-tipped covered foot.
Wow, just wow. I can’t believe Blakely did that.
And to my demise, there’s not much I can do. I’m not strong enough to set my drink down and walk away without a word. I have to see the man at work, for goodness’ sake. My only out was Blakely, and my ex-best friend just left me.
I have no choice.
Succumbing to the trickery, I take a seat and then bring my drink to my lips. Blakely is going to get an earful from me tomorrow. Best friend card positively revoked. She will need to earn that back with lots of presents. Pretty, glittery presents . . . and cash. Yes, I will require cold-hard cash from her to even get back in my good graces. She will need to fan the cash in my face while telling me why I am all sorts of accomplished in button sewing. The price you pay for leaving me.
At least fifty dollars . . . in ones, just to make it annoying.
Maybe ten dollars in quarters.
Five dollars in nickels.
All placed in a jar that is labeled “I’m sorry” with a heart on it. Said jar should be presented to me while she hands me my favorite coffee drink—skinny vanilla latte—a new glittery notebook, and a matching pen. Yup, that will be her penance. Even with that, she’ll still be on probation. I’ll justconsiderletting her talk to me.
“Hey, are you okay? Are you really that angry?” Eli asks, pulling me from my thoughts of murderous ways to get Blakely back. “Because you seem like you’re ready to fist-punch that drink across the room.”
I stare at Blakely’s drink, considering doing exactly that. A swift punch of it across the room feels satisfactory.
“Irritated,” I answer.
