“Sure. I’ll grab you a container.”
“Dee, did you ask Cruz about next weekend?” Brad asks, clearly not picking up on the mood in the room. My eyebrows pull together in annoyance that he can’t tell now isn’t the time.
“No, I told you I wasn’t going to.” I try to hide the frustration in my voice. Cruz doesn’t need this on top of his already shitty morning.
“Ask me what?” Cruz questions, taking the to-go box from my hand.
“I told Dee we should try to get to a game next weekend,” Brad says as he leans across the counter to give me a kiss on the cheek. “But she didn’t feel comfortable asking.”
Cruz raises his eyebrow at me. He’s offered me tickets before, but I have always turned him down.
“I didn’t want to put you out.” Fighting this battle is pointless now that Brad has brought it up. But there’s no way in hell I am going to let Brad steamroll him just because he knows Cruz will do it for me.
“I have an allotment of tickets, it’s fine. Hell, you can come to the game tonight too.”
“See Dee, I told you he’d come through,” Brad says, holding out his hand to Cruz for a fist bump. When Brad realizes that’s not going to be returned, he drops his hand with a shrug. Completely unfazed.
“Of course. Saturday night’s game? You need two tickets?”
“Thanks, you really—”
Brad cuts me off before I can finish my half-hearted protest. It’s half-hearted because even though I haven’t taken him up on the offer, I do want to watch him play.
“If we could get four tickets, that would be perfect. One of the partners at the firm and his wife wanted to come along.”
Andthisis precisely the reason I wasn’t going to ask. This isn’t about me going to a game to watch my friend. It’s an opportunity for Brad to rub elbows with his boss and throw around clout since he bragged that he’s friends with Cruz at happy hour last week.
“It’s not necessary. We can get tickets from the box office like everyone else. I don’t want to take advantage.” It’s a last ditch effort to keep Cruz from feeling obligated.
“Stop. Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll have them at will call for you. Along with tickets for tonight, if you can make it.” Cruz pushes off the counter and heads toward the door. “It was good to see you, Delilah.” He smiles at me looking a little less haunted than when he walked through the door. “Later, Brad.”
“Sure, later,” Brad says without looking up from his phone.
When the door shuts, I toss a rag at Brad hitting him on the side of the head. “What the hell was that?” My voice is filled with irritation. I’m not sure I could hold it back if I tried, seeing as the barely contained rage is vibrating through my body. “I told you I wasn’t going to ask. Cruz doesn’t need you using your connection to him to get ahead at work. And you didn’t even say thank you. How rude!”
Brad just shrugs, stalking across the shop towards me and pocketing his phone. “He was in a position to help, so I asked. Todd is a huge Bandit’s fan, this is going to make me look so good.”
“I can’t believe you did that.” A smug smile crosses his face as I slap at his chest.
“Don’t be mad, baby,” he says, wrapping me up in his arms and peppering kisses on my face. Brad’s approach has always been to ask forgiveness instead of seeking permission. It drives me crazy and has been the catalyst for many arguments over the years.
When he layers the affection on like this afterwards, the guilt for how I reacted tries to rear its ugly head. I have to force it back down. Reminding myself I’m entitled to my feelings. He blatantly took advantage of my friendship with Cruz for his own gain. I know he will just argue that he’s doing it for us to build the future that we always dreamed of. That thought softens the edges of my anger marginally.
“I wish you wouldn’t have done that. Cruz is my friend, and it wasn’t your place to ask him for a favor after I already said it made me uncomfortable.” I shrug out of his hold and grab a rag to busy myself cleaning, putting space between us.
Chapter 12
Poppy Calls
Present
As I attempt to do inventory from home today, all I can think about is the fact that it’s been just over a week since the impromptu movie night at Cruz’s and the team is finally back from their longest road trip this season—a whole eight days.
That’s eight days too long.
Especially since the last time I saw Cruz was when we woke up to a mess of tangled sheets and limbs.
If it were just the slumber party in his bed, maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last eightfreakingdays obsessing over it, but it wasn’t. There was one other very large, hard detail that we both just pretended to ignore. God, the way he hovered over me, I know I wasn’t imagining the heat in his eyes when he adjusted himself.
