“It really isn’t that bad-” Ryan begins, right as Caiden parks his delectably round tush in the seat beside mine and greets me with, “Why does it look like you’re aiming to be seen from the moon, Blue?”
My gaze snaps back to Ryan, who is doing everything to avoid my eyes, and I point a mozzarella stick at him. “You’re a filthy liar, Ryan Young.”
Before he can argue his case, Baxter and Rayne both take their seats around the table, Rayne sitting to Ryan’s left while Baxter takes up position to his right, leaving a seat to my right empty. This does explain why Ryan insisted on sitting at one of the bigger tables rather than the two-person table the waitress tried to direct us to. Sure enough, I watch as understanding crosses her young face when she peers over at us, nodding to herself like the questions she was asking herself have finally been answered.
My attention is lured away when Baxter’s drawl tickles my eardrums. “That’s an interesting choice of clothing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, and Ryan laughs under his breath as he helps himself to his own pizza.
“What? What’s funny?” Caid asks, eyeing my pizza as though he’s checking what toppings I’ve opted for. He nods with what I think is approval when he spies the pepperoni, bacon, ham, and spicy ground beef on a barbecue base with enough cheese to make someone intolerant to lactose shit themselves in fear.
“Nothing, really,” Ryan answers, shaking his head before diving into his own food now that our surprise company has arrived. I can’t say I’m in any way mad about it, because now I have more delicious things to look at while I eat. This godawful outfit will not ruin that for me.
Ignoring Caid’s questioning look, I eye his food before reaching for a handful of fries from his plate and replacing themwith a slice of my pizza, flashing him a smile before I get stuck in. The man doesn’t even mention it, simply reaches over to place a few more fries on my plate, and a funny little warmth blooms in my chest right where my heart beats a staccato rhythm that is starting to concern me. It only beats like that when I’m near these four guys. What is that even about?
The table grows quiet for a long moment, the focus turning to the delicious food laid out before us instead of the ghastly suit I refuse to answer questions about. Sadly, that only lasts for approximately seven minutes before Rayne asks, “So, what’s with the biohazard-suit-colored getup?”
There’s no escaping this wretched suit. Hell, that’s obvious enough, because I’m sure aliens from galaxies far, far away can see it. Sure, it won me this prize, but the prize wasn’t a little pet robot that cleans, and now I’m stuck wearing this crap until I can go home.
When I peer over at Ryan, I find him actively battling his smile while he tries to eat his chicken burger, and I roll my eyes before explaining to the rest of the table. “It’s a thing I do for my studio. Every month, we have Suit Up Day. The boldest suit wins.”
“Please tell me you won, Blue,” Caiden snickers, eating the slice of pizza I gave him. “Because if you’re walking around like a beacon without some form of compensation, I think we’re going to need to reevaluate your life choices.”
“She won,” Ryan answers for me, and my eyes are rolling once more, because two weeks away from work doesn’t seem like it was worth this wretched suit.
“What was the prize?” Baxter wonders, his rumbling voice sending shivers through me.
“Two weeks’ paid vacation,” Ry answers before I can even inhale, and I nod in agreement. “And she’s none too happy about it, either.”
“What? Why?” Caid blurts, turning to face me like I’m crazy. We’ve already deduced that I am, so I ignore the redundant reaction, opting to go to my happy place where there’s pizza, garlic bread, and mozzarella sticks. I’m not so deep in there that I miss Caiden ask Ry, “And why do you know so much, anyway?”
“He came to work with me and experienced Suit Up Day,” I mumble around a slice of pizza that could send me to the gods happily. I practically moan like a pizza slut around the large bite I take, cheesy goodness making love to my taste buds in ways that could be considered X-rated.
“Thought you were going to a cafe,” Rayne interjects, a tiny hint of accusation in his words, and my eyes pop open only to find three pairs of incredibly beautiful eyes watching me.
Covering my mouth with my hand, I run my gaze over Ryan, Baxter, and Caid, muttering around my mouthful, “What?”
Ryan clears his throat and looks away first, answering the accusatory question with a nonchalant shrug. “I ran into Maddie in the elevator, and she invited me to use the lounge in her studio. I got curious about the girl who chased me around my own living room with a dick bottle opener in her pants, so I tagged along. It was pretty interesting.”
“It’s really not that interesting. You just caught a weird day to be curious. It was the outfits that gave you that impression. Tag along any other day, and it’ll bore you to tears, I’m sure,” I mumble around a fry, shaking my head as I peer down at my own poor life choice. I really should have gone with something else, even if it meant losing the prize today. Or maybe I should have changed out all of the prizes and replaced them with floor vacuums. Damn it, why didn’t I think of that earlier?
As Caiden inhales to ask more questions, Baxter’s deep, timbered voice trickles across the table when he asks me, “So,you won two weeks off work? Why do you look bummed about it?”
Ryan snorts. I ignore him.
“It wasn’t the prize I was hoping to win. The claw machine screwed me,” I answer Bax, though it probably doesn’t explain all that much. It is what it is, though. If I’m going to see the bright side of winning fourteen whole days away from work, then I should stop talking about it and eat until I feel sick. “Anyway, how have your days treated you thus far?”
Caid is the first to answer, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he delves into his morning. “Pretty good, but even better now that I get to see you. Had a few clients this morning since the gym is all up and running, but nothing crazy. It’s been a chill day.”
I send him a look that he grins at, and I shake my head as I continue to eat, finding that I’m actually enjoying the company of these four men. We might still not know one another very well, but there’s a funny little comfort in being around them that I can’t seem to shake. Maybe it was how we met, or maybe it’s the way they haven’t looked at me like I’m too much to handle, but whatever it is, I find that I can be myself around them far more than I ever could when Toby was near.
“Pretty much the same for me. We’re working on rebuilding a Ford Mustang Fastback that came in yesterday, so it’s all hands on deck,” Bax adds, and I watch intently as he talks, the enthusiasm for his work very subtle but noticeable in every word he speaks. “I’ve been talking colors with the customer all morning, and we’re torn between Obsidian Plum and Black Cherry.”
I offer him a blank expression, having no clue what those two things mean, and he laughs under his breath before taking pity on me and explaining.
“Obsidian Plum is an almost-black color with deep-purple undertones that you’ll see when the light hits it right. Black Cherry is a dark red that kind of reveals itself when the car moves. Both are pretty sick options for a Mustang Fastback, so we’re torn,” he concludes, and I ponder on it for a moment before sliding my cell out of my pocket and opening my internet browser.
Searching the car and both colors, I debate it for all of two seconds before adding my two cents. “I’d go with the plum color, personally. But in gloss. With the white stripe down the middle, because is it really a Mustang without that iconic stripe?”
