Oh,hellno.
CHAPTER 8
Declan
Exactly who does this motherless son of a flying shitweasel think he is?
I can’t even believe what I’m seeing.This dude is hitting on Summer.Hard.He’s trying to pick her up.
What’s worse is that Summer seems totally fine with it.Her grimace and knitted brows are long gone.They’ve been replaced by a sly smile and half-lidded eyes.She might even be blushing.
I’ve never seen Summer blush.I always assumed she has some kind of genetic thing going on with her capillaries that makes it impossible.
But now I see that it is possible for her to blush.Just not around me.
I don’t know what to do.I’m standing at the dining entrance holding two melting sundaes in my hands.Ice cream is dripping over my fingers and the inside of my wrists.I look like a dork.Nowhere near the level of hot-alpha-pilot shit I aspire to.
On the other hand, there’s no law saying I have to allow Summer to be hit on by this sleazoid.I stomp in their direction, ice cream droplets hitting the floor.I slam the sundaes on the table.I might have used too much force, because ice cream sprays all over the place.
“Who’s this guy?”
I’m pretty sure I just growled those words.I can’t remember the last time I growled.But I gotta say that I like how my voice just slid down a full octave on its own, like a reflex, thick from anger.
Why am I so angry?
“Huh?”Summer collects a wad of paper napkins from the dispenser and doesn’t even look at me.I’m just an annoying mosquito buzzing around her love life.
“You,” I say to the guy.“Who are you?”
“Kirk.You must be Declan.”He stands, smiles politely, and puts out his hand.I shake it.His grip is firm.“Pleasure to meet you.”He makes eye contact with me when he speaks.
He seems somewhat legit.Maybe only a partial sleazoid.In normal circumstances, I might even like this dude.
These aren’t standard circumstances, though.He’s hitting on Summer.My man Kirk’s got to go.
Now.
What kind of name is Kirk, anyway?Sounds like a pussy name to me.
My new Enemy No.1 sits down again, reaching for a paper napkin to wipe off the sticky drips of ice cream I transferred to his hand.Hey, he was the one who wanted to show me how firm his handshake was.Serves him right.
Giving a man a bad case of ice cream fingers isn’t exactly an ass-whooping, but it’s a start.
“We were just talking,” Summer says offhandedly, her eyes on Kirk, not me, as she wipes off the table.And then she giggles.
I gasp.
I’ve never,everheard that sound come out of Summer.Finn’s nine-year-old daughter, Jasmine, sure.His wife, Emma, yes.Phoebe, absolutely.And Victoria, well… maybe, though I can’t be sure.
But Summer?Hell no.If Summer doesn’t think something’s funny, she looks right at you and says “that’s not even funny.”When she thinks something’s funny, she lets go with a full-throated laugh.
Like everything Summer does, she laughs big.No halfway giggles for her.But she’s giggling now.And blushing.
I decide Kirk would look really good curled up in the fetal position on the restaurant floor, crying out for his mommy.
I glare down at him “Nice meeting you, Kirk.Summer and I were just about to eat ice cream.”
“Grab a chair from another table, would ya?”Summer finally glances up at me while she finishes the ice cream cleanup.“You look like a creeper just standing there, or maybe like you’re ready to take our order.If you’re going to stick around, pop a squat like a normal person.”
