“You served him… mostly well,” I tell the door. “And you will again someday. Don’t lose hope.”
I look through my toiletry bag one last time to make sure I didn’t forget anything, turning it fully upside down after a cursory glance through the pockets. When nothing falls out, I congratulate myself on a job well done and wander back to the bedroom, eyeing Fox’s door as I pass.
I pause.
I could just… peek. Have a little looksie. Full send on invading his privacy in the name of curiosity.
Or, I could be the decent human being I am and not nose about in his sanctuary. If someone went into my bedroom without me knowing, I’d feel violated and gross and probably never enjoy the sensation of safety in the space again.
Shrugging, I banish the urge to investigate. Do unto others and all that. I have something way better than snooping to do with my time, anyway. Something that will put all thoughts of Fox’s bedroom far from my mind, blessedly. Something that includes only me, my bed, and asingleblanket to keep me cozy.
?
Groggy, I stumble downstairs for my shift at the bar.
“Whoa,” Wolfe says, catching me as I fall on the last few steps while he is, presumably, just trying to get to his apartment in one not-run-over-by-Poem piece. “Careful there.”
I smile sheepishly up at him. “Sorry. Just woke up.”
He snorts. “Cute. Perhaps we save stairs for when we aren’t still caught in the clutches of drowsiness?”
“I would, dear Wolfe, but my boss is a tyrant when I’m late.” I sigh. “It’s terrible. A girl can’t even shake off her nap in peace.”
Wolfe’s lips twitch as he sets me steadily on the ground, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “You sound like Amia waking up for school.”
I grin. “Highly relatable, your spawn. Ten out of ten on that one. Please do again.”
“Uh,” he chokes. “I think you’re forgetting the other half of that equation.”
I shrug, waving that nonsense away. “Semantics.”
Wolfe opens his mouth to respond, lips tipping in amusement, but Fox’s voice rumbles out instead. “Are you going to work today, or are you going to socialize in the stairwell?”
I spin, losing my balance and needing a Wolfly rescue once again. Fox glares from the doorway to the bar, eyes narrowing on Wolfe’s hands at my waist. “I think she can handle standing all on her own,” he grumps.
“Not in my experience,” Wolfe replies. “Bit wobbly, this one.”
Fox scowls, striding forward to grab my hand. “Bit late, this one. Go. I got her.”
Wolfe shrugs, and I barely manage a wave behind me before Fox drags me out and through the bar floor to my station behind the counter. Tonight, I’m bartending. Apparently.
I’ll not be reminding him that I was scheduled to serve. Bartending getswaybetter tips. Andwaybetter tips meanswayfaster paying off of debts, old and new.
“Samantha’s here today,” he says, tilting his chin toward my coworker, a nice but kind of ditzy brunette out on the floor. “I gave her your serving shift. You okay to barback?”
Ah. Maybe Fox does actually know what’s going on in his own bar. Real shocking, that.
“I’m perfect to barback,” I answer, removing my hand from his to give him a salute. “Anything for the team, boss.”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And I’m sure the better tips have nothing to do with it.”
Well. He didn’t have to read my mind like that.
“I am only benevolence and kindness,” I reply. “Put me wherever I’m needed, and I will thrive. Tips have nothing to do with it.”
“They should,” he says. “Since you have to pay for emergency house repairs.”
I wince. “Gee, thanks for reminding me.” I was thinking about it anyway, but still.
