“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
Rich glances at me. “What you talking about?”
“For interrupting your night. I know you don’t like to be bothered on Sundays after…you know.”
His head lolls to the side. “Who said that?”
“Aunt Faye said it first…then Beatrice double downed on it in her kitchen. She said she wouldn’tdarebother you today.” I look down at my lap, rolling my eyes.
“And you believed B?”
I shrug. “She’s known you a lot longer than I have.”
“We talking about the same Beatrice? The Beatrice that live at the end of my street? The Beatrice that’sdaredto bother me plenty of Sundays. The Beatrice that ain’t told me ‘happy birthday’ but have my birthday cake still sitting in her refrigerator?” He snorts out a laugh that’s so contagious I want to catch it. “That Beatrice?Man…”
“She never even told you ‘happy birthday?’”
He shrugs, waving his hand. “Not every woman is as tender as you are, baby.”
A flutter escapes from that clusterfuck in my stomach and immediately gets swallowed by a sharp burn.
“You beat up her ex or whatever he is, you fuck her, you’re damn near remodeling her house…and you mean to tell me she didn’t take two seconds to call and tell you ‘happy belated birthday’ after all the dust settled? Did she at least thank you for what you did? You could’ve—no, youalreadygot in trouble for that.”
He chuckles, looking back at the road.
I don’t like this heat.
It makes my neck hot and my mind race with irrational thoughts that Rich probably wouldn’t like.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You and your selfish friends with benefits. You don’t ever get sick of them?”
Another loud laugh bursts from his mouth. “It ain’t nothing to be jealous of. You know that, right?”
“I’m not jealous.” I cross my arms, staring out the passenger window.
He snorts, reaching over and tugging my arms apart, then threading his fingers through mine. “You wanna know what I do on Sundays after I win your Honey Bun money?”
I nod.
“Youreallywanna know?”
“Don’t annoy me right now and don’t tell me anything silly.”
He laughs, squeezing my fingers. “I roll a blunt, eat my dinner while I can still feel my face, and I just found out that Arnez got me paying for a Netflix account every month so I watchOzarkuntil I can’t sit still.”
My stomach drops. “That seems… a little lonely.”
He shrugs. “After I watch a couple episodes, I take a drive to see the only other person that knows what I do on Sunday nights besides you.”
I turn away from the window and catch his eyes as he eases to a stop at the red light on Bayou Bend. “Who’s the other person?”
“Nobody you need to be jealous of.”
He unravels his fingers from mine and looks up at the red light.
Maybe I am jealous?
I think I forgot how dizzying the feeling is.
