“Satan,” I retort, flipping him off.
He grins as though I just told him he has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. “You guys need a refill?”
Karlya nods emphatically. “Yes, please. Surprise me.” The woman’s taking her life in her hands. Her god, Harry Styles, only knows what she’s letting herself in for by letting this Lord of the Underworld be unsupervised around something she’s going to put into her mouth.
He straightens, his smile turning cool. “Chloe. You’re here. Again. Bothering my beautiful girlfriend.”
Karlya rolls her lips between her teeth as my face heats to the temperature of the sun.
“Is there something specific you need from her?” He pauses, giving her a movie star smile. “It’s just, when you’re around, she gets a little snippy, you know? And we both know who takes the brunt of it.” He hooks a thumb at his chest, tossing her a casual wink. “And as much as I’m down for a little pain with my pleasure—” He nails me with a pointed stare so charged with lust I’m tempted to bend over the table right now.
“I don’t like that you keep appearing around her and throwing her off balance. So whatever it is, can you spit it out, get it over with, and then fuck all the way off please? You made your bed, and her ex now lies in it.”
“I should have brought my vibrator.” Karlya’s whisper isn’t as quiet as I’d have liked. Tate’s mouth twitches.
Chloe’s mouth, on the other hand, is hanging open like she’s catching bugs. “I... but... who...?” She seems to have lost the power of speech. Her cheeks are red, she’s flabbergasted, and potentially as turned on as the rest of us. “You s-shouldn’t talk to people like that,” she manages.
“And you shouldn’t steal people’s boyfriends, but we know your position on that, don’t we?” He cocks a finger at her. “Can’t get to pick and choose which social norms you follow now, can you, Chloe?” When she doesn’t answer him, he keeps going. “Chloe?”
“Hm?”
“That’s your cue to leave.”
She starts, patting down the cross-body bag hanging in front of her.
“And Chloe?”
She turns back to face a hard-faced Tate. “Yeah?”
“Don’t ever talk to her again.” The menacing tone he uses with her, shamefully makes me wet, and my pulse skip.
Damnit.
As much as I want to stick a giant skewer up his ass and barbecue him for protecting me when I could have handled myself—again—it was kind of sweet.
He’s already been inside me, so he’s not bloviating to get himself laid. Or does he want a rematch?
Or maybe, the tiny whisper in my brain pipes up,he’s not a complete asshole like you think. Maybe you shouldn’t punish the son for the crimes of the father.
The temptation to hit myself in the face is strong. So I simply chug a few deep gulps of my mocha, smacking my lips instead.
Chloe pauses, looks at me like she’s contemplating saying something, purses her lips from side to side, and nods. “You look really pretty today, Penny—elope.”
It takes all I can not to laugh at her as she remembers half way through to say my whole name.
“Have a good one.” She scurries away out of the coffee shop, ignoring the barista calling her name from the counter. I almost feel bad for her, but then I remember her bare ass in my dorm room bed, and a deep, warm satisfaction settles over me.
“You know what she did, don’t you?” My voice is thick as I search Tate’s face for answers. He had no reason to jump in and chase Chloe away, but he did. That suggests he knows what she did.
He nods. “Loyalty is important to me.” He shrugs. “I’ve watched so many fake friends leech themselves onto Dad over the years because he was a professional hockey player. Few of them were genuine, most of them were working an angle, they wanted money, fame by association, or salacious gossip to sell to the highest bidder.”
I nod, knowing what that’s like. Hell, I lived it too.
“Best friends don’t get an ounce of forgiveness for doing what she did to you. She shouldn’t take up any space in your life.” His features are hard, his eyes stern. “Don’t give her another thought.”
Sometimes thinking about Chloe is all I can do. What does she have that I don’t? What did Dick get from her that he couldn’t have gotten from me? Those thoughts generally lead into a spiral of listing my shortcomings—which isn’t good for anyone.
Tate rests a palm on my shoulder. “Be right back.” He points to the counter. “Two Tate surprises?”
