Just as I’m gearing up to down the last of my drink and smash him in the fucking face with my glass, Tate appears in front of me, slipping his coat off and smiling at Karlya.
It’s so absolutely perfect that he’s here too for this moment of deep embarrassment and regret. Not.
“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
Wait, what? Did he just call me babe? I rub my cheek where his lips grazed my skin.
Karlya’s sporting a shit-eating-grin.
“Karlya.” He nods at her like they’re old friends. How does he know her name? My stomach drops. He must have been hovering nearby for long enough to have heard Dick say her name. That or he really is a fucking stalker.
She attempts to cover her smirk by slipping her thumbnail into her mouth and biting down. “Milkshake Man.”
It comes out garbled, but we both hear what she says, and in response, Tate winks at me. “Drink?” He points at our glasses. He freezes, like something’s just occurred to him, then looks at Dick, flashing him the widest, most obnoxiously blinding smile, he sticks out his hand to where I assume Dick is standing.
“Tate, the hockey superstar boyfriend.” He lifts his hand before Dick can shake his hand, Tate’s limb moving in a blur in my periphery.
I’m rigid, frozen in place. By what, I’m not sure. Shock? Rage? Fear of murdering someone if I dare move or breathe?
“I know who you are.” Tate snorts. “The cheating ex, right?” Then he points to who I assume is Chloe as I still haven’t turned to look at them. “And the former best friend, right?”
He looks to me for confirmation, and I slow my breathing, mostly so I don’t hit him with a head butt square between his pretty eyes.
He shakes Chloe’s hand, then lets out a sigh. “Balls of fucking steel, Dick. I’ll give you that. If I saw my ex in a bar, and I was with my lovely Penelope—it’s Penelope by the way, she hates Penny—the last thing I’d do is bring them together.” Tate turns to me. “Revelton Rye?”
How the fuck does he know all of this about me? That’s my second favorite whiskey. Has he spoken to Karlya?
She looks equally as flummoxed as I feel. Did the bartender tell him that’s what we’re drinking?
“Please.” I manage to swallow down the acerbic insult tickling my tonsils. When Tate leaves, I turn to face Dick and Chloe. “Was there something you needed?” I try to inject impatience and indifference into my tone but I’m not sure how successful I am.
Dick shifts his weight. “I... uh...” He brushes the back of his neck, and suddenly Chloe’s very interested in her fucking feet. “How are you doing?”
When my incredulous stare and lack of response gets awkward enough for good ole Dick, he clears his throat. “Dad was saying they need a receptionist in his office.” He pauses, softening his face. “In case your dad was looking for some work or something. You know... he might want to work with my dad.” He shrugs, Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up like this is the first she’d heard of it, and Karlya snorts.
“Thanks, but Dad got a job.” I turn my back to both of them without saying another word.
After a long minute, Karlya leans toward me. “They’re gone.”
I heave out a long, slow, cleansing breath. “Thank fuck for that.”
Did he really come up to offer Dad a job? How does he think that’s going to go? Dad wants to beat Dick senseless with a fucking bat for Christ’s sake. There’s no way he’d work with Dick’s dad.
“Tate was hot as fuck.” She fans herself. “I love a good pissing contest. If only they’d whipped them out and measured right here on the bar and given us a real show. Can you believe he wanted to offer your dad a job?” She snorts. “Had to be self-serving somehow. Maybe he wanted to crack a window back into your life, because we both know that piece of shit doesn’t do anything out of the goodness of his cheating heart.”
Tate reappears a couple minutes later with two glasses of golden liquid. He hands one to each of us. “Ladies.” His smile is hopeful, confident, and Karlya’s face says if I don’t want him, she’ll have him.
I take a long swallow of the delicious drink, enjoying the slow burn.
Tate puts his hand on my lower back, leaning into me. “Gotta keep up the pretense, Pitstop. They’re watching you like a hawk.” He nuzzles his nose against me.
Karlya is watching me like I’m the main character of a daytime soap opera. A smile’s playing on her lips, and she’s got that look in her eye that means she’s scheming. She might be a year older than me, but I’ve known her my whole life, and I can read her every facial expression, every reaction, and every goddamn eye movement.
She’s already marrying me off to this asshole.
I need to get her on Team Penelope. And fast. Before she heads to a local bridal store and picks out some hideously extra bridesmaid’s dress when she should be picking out funeral attire. Because I’m about to kill this arrogant fuck right here in the bar. I didn’t need him to rescue me. I didn’t need him to pretend to be my boyfriend, and now I’m stuck putting on a show for my ex-best-friend and my ex-boyfriend.
I lean toward Tate, and instead of licking, sucking, or nibbling at his ear lobe, I bite the edge of his ear, clamping my teeth down on his fragile skin. He whimpers, grabbing my arm. “Pitstop, I’m going to need a tetanus shot if you don’t let up.” He speaks through a gritted smile, like he refuses to let the charade come undone in front of my ex.
