Cane looks sheepishly at me. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” I say as they let us into their warm house and Archie closes the door behind us. “This is Rebecca,” I say almost as an afterthought. That should make me feel guilty, but I don’t know why it doesn’t. I don’t know if things are going to work out with her, if I’m being honest with myself.
Something just isn’t right with us. There’s no denying that.
“Nice to meet you.” Archie holds out his hand. “I’m Archie. I work with this guy.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Rebecca says, her voice light and flowery, which grates on my nerves. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s so nice. She’s great. Perfect really. My mom and dad love her. She’s kind. She’s a teacher, for Christ’s sake. She teaches tiny humans every day and comes home with a smile on her face. She’s a saint.
“I’m Cane.” He reaches his hand out to shake hers after Archie, and it’s all perfectly pleasant.
“Should we go?” I ask, and they agree, turning off a couple of lights and locking up before we head out to my truck. Archie and Cane live pretty close to my house, so it made sense to carpool to Oakley and Trav’s.
When we get there, I’m surprised to only see three trucks outside. I thought we were late, but we don’t seem to be. I open the door to let Rebecca out of the truck and take her hand as we walk up to the front door. I chuckle when we pass Oakley’s rust bucket of a truck, which is decorated for the holiday.
My boss is ridiculous, and I picture Travis’s face when he saw it, making me chuckle again. Rebecca seems intrigued but doesn’t say anything, just giving a slight smile.
“Fucking Oakley,” Archie quips as we walk by the spectacle.
“He does love Christmas,” I say, ringing the doorbell. “Let’s hope they don’t make us wait as long as you two did.”
“We said we’re sorry,” Cane grumbles.
I toss my head back on a laugh just as Oakley answers the door, and this motherfucker—I shit you not—is in a full Santa costume. The red pants. The black boots. The matching velvet coat and hat with a white fluffy ball. He isn’t wearing a fake beard, but you get the idea.
And he has the biggest smile on his face. “Merry fucking Christmas!”
“Guessing Amber isn’t here yet,” I say with a laugh.
“I told him to get it all out of his system now,” Trav says, walking to the door. He’s dressed in black slacks and a button-down shirt, and you might think he’s annoyed with his husband’s antics if you didn’t know them well. He’s wearing a pinched expression, but if you look at his eyes, they shine for that man. It’s almost gross how much they love each other. “Oakley, let them in.”
“Oh right,” he says with a grin, sweeping his hand out as he steps back and allows us all to walk inside. “Welcome to our home.” We walk inside, and Oakley eyes Rebecca. “We haven’t met.”
“I’m Rebecca,” Her eyes sparkle with charming laughter as she takes Oakley in.
“I’m Oakley. This is my husband, Travis.” He wraps a beefy arm around Travis, who just laughs, holding his hand out to my date.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” And again, it’s all super pleasant and great. I should be happy. Rebecca fits in perfectly at the party as guests start to arrive. Dutton, who’s dating Walker, another member of Oakley’s Crew, starts taking photographs of the guests and the party setup. Dutton is a professional photographer, though I think the pictures are more for all of us tonight.
Rebecca falls into easy conversation with everyone but especially Sarah and Walker as they help Travis get the food ready to serve for dinner.
“She’s nice.”Asher.
I turn my head to look at my coworker, his blond hair neater and more styled than I’m used to seeing it, for damn sure. His dark green eyes shine with mirth, and I feel like he’s mocking me. Which isn’t uncommon for Asher. He loves to bust my balls. Has for the past year he’s been working at Oakley’s Crew. But we get along pretty well. “Sheisnice.
“Hownice.” He’s definitely mocking me now.
“You have something to say?”
“Me?” His voice goes up an annoying octave as he waggles his eyebrows. “No, of course not. Like I said, she’s nice. Took my coat when I got here and everything. She’s very...”—I wait,though I’m not really sure I want to hear what he has to say—“accommodating.”
“Fuck you,” I say quietly, and he snickers.
I also hate that he met her twenty minutes ago, and he’s already picked up on the thing that bugs me the most about her. “It’s not a bad thing to be helpful.”
“Not at all.” His brows are raised in sarcasm, and I kind of want to punch him.
