“I bought bagels for everyone. Are you hungry? Did you already eat?” He’s at my heel as I come around the Plexiglass-topped desk. I stop and face him, each of us resting a hand on the counter. He lifts a brown bag with his other, that grin I predicted spread on his face as wide as ever. “Want?”
Swipin’ the bag from his hand, I dig in and score myself a warm bagel with seeds all over it.
“Everything,” Miller nods, still sporting that fuckin’ grin. “Nice.”
I hold it up and nod. “Thanks.” Then I slip into the garage and sigh with sweet relief when he doesn’t immediately follow me. It can feel like shakin’ a puppy off your leg, I swear. In the back corner is a black leather seat on three wheels. I slide onto it and eat my bagel, noticing some clumps of dirt left on my boots from earlier. I get company as I’m enjoying my tumbler of extra hot coffee.
Great.
“What’s up?” Delane offers with a tilt of her chin. Never met a woman like this. Twenty-two-years-old, addicted to audio porn—basically, independent, sharp, responsible, and utterly fuckin’ single. She talks shit, too, and I like that about her.
“What?” I gruff because even though I like her style, it doesn’t mean we’re gonna braid each other’s fuckin’ hair.
Her eyes narrow on me, and I know she does a quick little jut of her chin by the way her dark curls bounce around her face. “Don’t be rude.”
I blink.
The edge of her mouth lifts. “How was the bed building?”
I shake my head. “Beau is such a girl.”
She snorts. “Beck told me. She called here to make sure you remembered you were on bed duty, and I asked for the deets.”
I say nothing because there is nothing to say.
Coming toward me, she kicks her sneaker into my boot. “How was it, Atti?”
I take another scalding pull of coffee and ignore the sting in my eyes from the burn. “It was building a bed.”
She folds her arms across her chest in a way that tells me my answer was wrong. “Did you and Goldie talk?” Her eyebrows raise on her forehead when she says it, and that annoys me.
Another drink of coffee, it is.
She kicks my boot again, and I scowl. “Quit.”
Her eyes roll, but her arms fall to her sides, exasperated. “Oh god, Atticus. You either talked to her or you didn’t. Don’t make it a thing.”
A thing. Psh. “We exchanged words.” I sip my coffee, and to my horror, I’m on my last drink. I’m trapped with no way to ignore her. I get to my feet, and the stool rolls back into the wall with a thud.
She steps where I step, anticipating me like we’re moments from pullin’ our pistols. “Laney,” I groan, using her nickname to get her off my back. Sometimes it works.
“I’m not PMSing. That won’t work.”
Well, fuck.
“She’s stuck up, alright?” I spit. Why does it matter that she insulted me, or at least attempted to? It doesn’t. I really don’t fuckin’ care. It doesn’t matter what crazy long-legged, shampoo commercial hair-havin’, plump lip witchcraft she’s doing either.
I don’t fuckin’ care. And the truth? Sheisstuck up.
Delane socks me in the arm, and I roll my eyes.
“Because shehas a personalitydoesn’t mean she’s stuck up, youdumbass.” She folds her arms over her chest again, and I don’t even know why the fuck she cares all of a sudden. Delane and I are both single. Wedo notspeak of it. Life is fine this way, thank you very fuckin’ much.
“Delane,” I begin to reason with absolutely no inflection in my tone because I can’t let her know how much I don’t want to talk about this. Not even more than my words already do, or else she’ll really fuckin’ dig in. She’s like a little sister that way, always razzing me. “Don’t do whateverthisis.” I move two fingers between us. “I don’t like it and don’t want it.”
She purses her lips and blinks for a second. “Is that right?”
“Right as rain,” I say, brushin’ past her to get to the auto bay. I get the metal doors rolling open for the day, and she tails me. See? Dog on the leg is accurate for these people.