“Um… yeah, I guess.”
He sounded unsure.
“We don’t have to have sex or do anything at all when I get there. I just want to see you.” I’d intended to reassure him I wanted him as much for himself as anything physical, but his reaction wasn’t what I’d expected.
“Yeah, fine. Whatever. I have to get back to work.”
The connection cut off before I had a chance to say another word.
Fuck.
11
STEVIE
I despised being treatedlike a child. And Chief Condescending Cocksucker was doing it as if he’d taken the class and gotten the certification.Treating Your Lover Like A Baby 101: How To Cockblock Yourself Without Realizing It.
The following day found me in a haze of anger. Who knew you could bag a muffin so hard it would shoot straight through the bag and onto the floor? And apparently there was such a thing as frothing a cappuccino too frothily. But it wasn’t until I’d told the elderly Hobie librarian to suck it up and take his coffee black like a man that Nico stepped in.
“Mr. Schneider, Stevie here has been having a rough day. Please excuse him. It’s obvious his skinny jeans shrank in the dryer and are causing him to?—”
“Oh no you didn’t,” I snapped. “I would never put designer denim in the dryer. You take that back.”
Nico reached across me for the jug of cream and a handful of sugar packets. “Here you go,” he continued sweetly to the customer. “And let me grab you one of Stevie’s pecan bars on the house. I’m sure you’ll appreciate biting into his nuts with abandon once you get your hands on them.”
I clenched my teeth against the chuckle that wanted to bubble up. No way was I giving that fucker the satisfaction.
When Mr. Schneider finally waddled out of Sugar Britches, Nico sighed. “You know, there’s a difference between colorful and bitchy. Colorful Stevie brings in business like gangbusters. Bitchy Stevie is going to get me killed one of these days.”
“Pfft. That man is five feet zero and weighs a thousand pounds. All you have to do is be faster than him.”
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “He carries a Glock 42 in an ankle holster.”
I felt my bladder clench. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, no shit. Texans, am I right?”
We shared a shudder before going back to our work noticeably more subdued. I wondered if Evan carried a weapon. Despite being anti-gun, I had to admit the thought of Evan carrying a weapon was sexy as hell. My dick spent the rest of the afternoon hard as diamonds even though my brain was pissed at the man for treating me like a virgin dweeb. Never mind the fact Iwasa virgin dweeb.
When we finally closed the shop late that afternoon, I’d ramped myself up into a frenzy to the point that when Sassy stopped me in the parking lot to dish some more about that hobag Carrie-Ann and the jackass who owned the hardware store, I snapped at her.
“Nobody gives a shit about the Clapper-Fuckles, Sassy!”
She clicked her teeth closed before muttering, “Clapper-Fickle. And what the hell’s your problem?”
“I’ve been cockblocked by my own virginity,” I hissed. “That’s my problem. A classic cold case of blue balls.”
She whipped her head around and gawped at me, her high ponytail flying around in a dark arc. “What? I thought for sure you and the chief…”
“You’d be wrong.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m not experienced enough for him. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe he’s believed all the rumors and thinks I’m a slutty, disease-ridden?—”
“Dude, seriously? Calm your shit down. You’re about to ignite.”
The word conjured up raging infernos with Evan Paige in the center, losing the battle against the blaze. I deflated.
