He looks over the paper with interest. “It says you worked at Pete’s for almost three years. Why did you leave?”
Because I was an idiot who followed my best friend to Vegas. “I just needed a change.”
He nods and sets the resume down on his desk. And here comes the inevitable disappointment.I never should have let Clem talk me into this damn skirt.
“How soon can you start?”
My brows shoot skyward, and I wrestle my features into a cool, calm expression I don’t really feel. “Um ... when do you want me?”
“I want you right now,” he says, and then seems to check himself. “We’re severely understaffed.”
“Then I’m your girl.”
He smiles. “I think you just might be.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lo
One week later
We’re at Ned’s—a fun little hole-in-the-wall bar across town—and so is Gabe, so is everybody, but he’s the only person here I can’t stop staring at. Annie presses tight to his side, clinging on for dear life and eyeing the rest of the patrons with the kind of disdain only she can muster. I glare at Clem, and she shrugs and leans in to shout over the music, “I didn’t know he was coming.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, so Tommy called me earlier and said your best friend has been a real A-hole since your little tiff last week. He wanted to get the two of you together to hash things out before Mace’s birthday fridge crawl, so ... surprise.”
Oh shit. That’s today?
“Well, I appreciate the meddling, really I do, but we’re never going to sort out our shit while Annie’s in the same room, so I’m just gonna go.”
“No. Lo don’t go.” She reaches for my arm, but I pull free.
“I just ... I don’t want to do this, Clem. It hurts too much.”
I turn and run smack bang into six feet five inches of Viking dude. His hands take hold of my shoulders and steady me. I rub my nose, because ... ouch.
“Can we talk?”
“That depends, will your guard dog let you?”
“Who gives a shit?” he says and takes hold of my hand before turning and making his way through the crowd, practically dragging me behind him.It’s kind of hot. Or it would be if I wasn’t so freaking mad at him.
Outside, Gabe leads me away from the main entrance to the bar and pulls me into the alcove of a dirty store front.
“I fucking hate this, Freckles.”
I fold my arms over my chest and glance down at my shoes. These are fucking ugly shoes, and they pinch my toes. Why the hell did I let Clem and her bimbo bang talk me into these. Gabe follows my line of sight and clears his throat. “Do they hurt your feet?”
I glance up at my best friend—who’s apparently now a mind reader. “Yeah. I was just thinking about how much I’m going to enjoy showering Clem and Bimbo Bailey with my severed arteries when I get home and take them off.”
Gabe laughs. I do too, but we could cut the tension with a knife.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between us—”
“Me either,” I say, but that’s not true. I do know.
I love you and you don’t love me, because you chose to go back to an angry harpy who hates me.