“Well, I had a not-great conversation with my boss that sent me into a spiral of not-great decisions and an abundance of subpar alcohol.”
Hearing herbossmight have done something to cause her distress had my hackles rising, and that feeling in my chest spread across my body like wildfire. Who did that guy think he was to put her in such a position? I was halfway to my feet, unaware of my actions except for the intense clenching of my hands when soft fingertips grazed my arms.
I followed the movement, watching with rapt attention as she glided the appendages along my shoulder and back down—as if it were something she did every day.
“Have I already told you how much it means to be that you get all defensive and huffy like this? Like the thought of someone taking advantage has you all in a tizzy.”
She smiled, squeezing my arm as some of the tension melted away.
I swallowed. “Of course. Especially after. Well. You know. And we’re… We’re friends.”
She cocked her head, and it took me a second to realize I’d left the conversation hanging while I searched for the wordfriend.
“What’s going on with you? Sit down and talk to me.” She tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, and I sank into the chair, pushing back from the table and slinking down until my ass was on the edge.
What was going on? If that wasn’t the multi-million-dollar question. I tried to compartmentalize my thoughts as she piled two more pieces of bacon on my plate and buttered another slice of sourdough.
Was it her words last night about me only wanting sex? Was that why I stuck around today and made her breakfast? Was it the fierce rage I felt when that douche at the bar was touching her? Was it the fear I felt down to my very bones when I thought about a superior taking advantage of her?Again?
The benevolent overlord from the corner meowed, rubbing herself shamelessly on my leg like a wanton little minx. I rolled my eyes and snapped out of whatever stupor this was before letting her munch a small piece of bacon from my fingers.
“I don’t know. Maybe that shot disagreed with me after all. What happened at work? Do I need to text the guys and form a posse?”
She giggled, covering her mouth and shaking her head.
“Is that what you and your brothers would do to defend my honor? Form a posse and go riding off into the sunset, guns blazing?”
“Fuck, yes. Now, does your honor need defending, little lady?” My voice rumbled low as the giggle died on her lips. She looked down at her hands, where they gripped her unicorn coffee mug, and shook her head. A lone water droplet dripped down her cheek, and my fingers itched to brush away the moisture.
What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me?
“Nope. None of that chauvinist shit, please,” she said, finishing her eggs before launching into a story with wildly waving hands about her boss, boyfriends, and expectations. I was sure she threw her parents around in the rant as well, but I chose to focus on the things she wasn’t saying. Mostly, that she hadn’t disagreed with what her boss had said.
“Wait. Hang on a sec,” I said, interrupting her while scratching her royal fluffiness on the head. “You actually agree with the headmaster’s farce of a request?”
“Well. No. Not exactly. You don’t understand.” She sighed and tucked a curl behind her ear. “This could be the catalyst to jumpstart the next phase in my life.”
“Are you that unhappy?”
With me? With how things are?
I whispered the question, embarrassed with how pathetic I sounded and refusing to acknowledge the needling sensation that was back in my chest.
“It’s not unhappiness. It’s more like my life is stagnant, and this could be the push I need. Don’t you see, Miller?” She grasped my hands, and I tugged her closer until she had no choice but to stand and rearrange herself on my lap. Minerva took the opportunity to jump into Emma’s empty chair and put her front paws on the table, leaning closer to sniff the empty plate.
“Pspspsps,” I said, dropping two pieces of bacon on the floor so she’d jump down. The cat was cute, in a pretentious, sort of stuck-up way, but I drew the line at little paws that used a litter box also prancing on a kitchen table.
Emma tickled the hair on the back of my neck, scratching her nails along my scalp until I was practically purring in her nimble hands. “I’m not going to bitch and moan about this any more than I already have. I’m jumping in headfirst without alife jacket. I might have a meet-up request or even a date as we speak.”
I scoffed as she leaned over the table and grabbed her phone. My head rested on her shoulder as she opened the app and scrolled through her messages.
“See? This guy wants to meet up.”
A guy with a face like a ferret. All beady little eyes and a wicked smile filled the screen, making me scrunch my nose.
“Nope. Look here. It says, ‘Give me a chance, and I promise to show you a good time.’ That’s code for a booty call.”
“What? No, it’s not. How would you know that?” she asked, scrolling to read the rest of his profile. “You have to pay for this site. Why would he only want to screw?”
