Chapter Twenty-Five
“You look . . . different,” Lori concluded with a sweep of her eyes over my face.
Beside me, Poppy giggled.
I turned to her, glared the universal bestie glare, reminding her of our blood oath never to share secrets.
She rolled her eyes, reminding me she hadn’t forgotten and wasn’t happy I’d reminded her.
Suffice it to say, over lunch at her apartment Poppy had rolled her eyes a lot when I needlessly swore her to secrecy about twenty times. When I was done, she popped off her couch, threw her hands over her head, and shouted, “Finally!”
Then the afternoon deteriorated into something like this . . .
“What if I mess this up?”
Poppy rolled her eyes.
“No, really. I haven’t been nice, like at all, to the point I’ve been bitchy. So much so he had to call a truce.”
“A truce! I love it. Leave it to Ryan not to do something boring like ask a woman out on a date. Just, call a truce, which really was his way of saying the two of you are in a relationship. And he did this while holding you like his bride. This after he banged you against a wall. I’ve seen this in movies and read about it, but I didn’t know people actually did that in real life. ” She stopped to fan her face. “Hot.”
“This isn’t funny,” I pointed out. “I haven’t made this easy—”
“No, you’re right, hot sex is never funny. The only thing less funny would be horrible sex and ensuing conversation how to gently break it to the guy you’re not going back for seconds. Thankfully, Ryan gives good head—”
“I’m rethinking our Bestie Detail Pact,” I muttered. “I’ve decided to red line the clause.”
“I don’t accept this change,” she shot back.
“Not when you finally have something juicy to report. And Ryan a dirty talker? I did not see that coming. I’ve heard him swear, but not regularly like the others.
I love that for you. Finally, after years of ehh, my bestie getting the good stuff from a hot guy who she’s been crushing on .
. . Yeah, I like that a lot. I like it more that Ryan’s totally into you, something I’ve told you repeatedly but you’ve denied, so now on top of my girl landing her hot guy who has a big dick and knows what to do with it and he’s totally into her, I get to say I told you so. ”
When she petered out, my regret at the details I’d given her had doubled.
“I didn’t tell you the size of his penis,” I hissed.
“You didn’t have to—him doing you against the wall did.
A man who has a tiny dick doesn’t screw against a wall.
They find a bed and hope they can get the angles right.
A man with an average-size dick but has learned how to use it would do the table thing Ryan did with you, but not the wall thing.
Though, typically, men with big dicks don’t give good head.
It’s an unnecessary skill saved for men who aren’t packing.
Which means you got the trifecta—size, looks, and skill.
If you weren’t my best girl, I’d be so jealous I’d hate you. ”
“I told him about Dad,” I blurted out.
“Okay,” Poppy slowly enunciated, clearly not understanding my irrational outburst.
“I told him,” I reiterated. “Now he looks at me like he feels sorry for me. God, Poppy, the last thing I want is for him to—”
Her hand came up to stop my spiral, then Poppy went about proving to me what I already knew—I had the bestest best friend a girl could hope for. She set my head straight.
“Has it occurred to you that he wasn’t looking at you like he felt sorry for you—that what he was giving you was the opportunity to unload some seriously heavy stuff on a hot guy who’s more than strong enough to help you carry the weight?
That he was giving you a clear indication he cared and he wanted to know more?
And I hate to break it to you, but I feel sorry for you.
Sorry for you and for Andrea. Sorry that you and your mom are losing him in the cruelest way possible.
Your dad’s an amazing guy. The best. And watching you and your mom go through this is agony.
The only silver lining in this is that Hank doesn’t know what his girls are going through, because that would kill him. ”
She was right, if my dad knew my mom and I were in pain because of what was happening to him, it would torture his mind.
“You need to let him be sorry and be concerned and hurt for you. If he’s not those things, then he’s a dick and you need to toss him aside and find a man who will stand strong at your side and, when need be, will carry you when you stumble.”
Ryan would stand strong. He’d carry me. He’d listen, and he’d feel my pain.
And that might’ve been the scariest part. I knew he’d be that man—no, I knew he was that man. That was part of why I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with him even though I was telling myself I’d never have him. It was love from afar—just the idea of him, the promise of who he was.
“What if I screw this up?”
“What if you don’t?”
Gah.
“Poppy—”
“Stop. We’re talking about Ryan. Not only will you not screw it up—he won’t let you. I’ve watched him watching you at work for what feels like an eternity. The man looks pained every time he beats back the urge to throw you over his shoulder and whisk you off to his cave.”
“You read too many vampire books.”
“Girl, don’t throw shade when my books are all that I have keeping me company at night.
And just to point out, it was you working at a bar him and the guys are investigating that made him snap.
Which proves what I said true—he was holding himself back.
And before you use the excuse he’s your boss, who the hell cares?
I love the Plank. I love working there. I like it more because I work there with you.
But it’s a bar. There are seventy-five million bars in San Diego.
But you know what there’s not seventy-five-million of? Ryans. There’s only one of those.
“So this is what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go into my closet, pick out the dress you want to borrow.
Go visit your dad and be glad your mom won’t be there to see you pull up in Ryan’s truck and instigate the Mom Interrogation to End All Interrogations.
Yes, it’ll be about Ryan but also why you’re driving his truck.
So if you don’t want to be on the receiving end of her questioning, you need to hurry up.
You might be able to get one past her over the phone, but in person, no way.
Then you’re going to go home and relax since you’re on a week’s paid vacation.
And in case you were unaware, an email was sent this morning that, effective immediately, there’s a new benefits policy.
So, thanks for that. Then you’re going to call me.
Then tonight we’re going to go to work, and I’m going to try to slip into Muriel’s office while you stand watch. ”
She absolutely wasn’t going to do that.
“You’re not doing that.”
“I am. And you’re keeping watch.”
Was she insane?
“No freaking way. I don’t even want to think about what happens if you get caught.”
“I won’t get caught because you’re going to keep Muriel occupied.”
“You’re nuts. And just to remind you, there are cameras. Cameras that record. I could distract Muriel for the whole night and you’d still get caught. So no, you are not breaking into her office, and if you don’t back down from that, I’ll tell Beckett.”
That was a low blow and I knew it, but this was serious. Serious enough I had no qualms getting down in the mud and playing dirty, breaking the Bestie Code of Conduct if I had to.
Poppy had admitted she thought Beckett was hot—obviously I’d called that.
What I’d been wrong about was, it wasn’t the lumberjack look that did it for her (though that was part of it).
It was what she called his wounded soul that called her.
Not in a sexual way but in a come to mama and let me patch you up way.
I’d given her the warning Ryan had given me.
She’d rolled her eyes. That was all I’d warn her off.
Now my job was to support whatever she decided to do.
That was, support her with Beckett, not breaking and entering.
“We have to do something,” she hissed, not even bothering to call me out about breaking the code, because she knew I was right.
“We are,” I reminded her. “We’re reporting to the guys everything we see and hear. They’ll do the rest.”
I didn’t immediately go to her closet to get a dress and get my behind to my dad before my mom got off work so I could avoid her interrogation. Because that’s when Poppy broke.
I did what my best friend in the world needed me to do. I held her while she cried about her friend. I hugged her tight when she sobbed about how scared she was for Cindy. And finally, I held her hand while she called Pamela to check on her.
Then after she pulled herself together, I got the dress, sped to my dad’s nursing home so I could sit with him and a bunch of his friends that he didn’t actually know, and watched him play a game of checkers before I went home.
I packed a bag so I could stay the night at Ryan’s house. Then we ordered and consumed a pizza and talked about our days. It must be noted, his face got soft when I told him I’d taken a nap.
After that, I got ready for work, and he drove me and dropped me off.
Now I was standing next to the bar with Poppy and Lori in an awesome dress that—upon seeing me in it—made Ryan’s eyes turn a shade of hungry that curled my toes. Unfortunately, that toe curl had worn off and guilt had encroached.
“She had her brows shaped this afternoon,” Poppy lied, fully pulling me back into the present.
“They look great,” Lori said, complimenting my fake brow shaping.
“Thanks,” I pushed out and loaded my tray with drinks.
I was on my second sweep of the room when I saw Len Taylor and another man I’d never seen at a two top in my section. No Sterling. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I’d easily pegged Sterling as a predator when I’d met him, but what I’d meant was that he was the alpha dog of his peers. After last night, I knew he was a straight-up predator in every sense of the word, and I didn’t need Ryan and the guys to tell me that. I’d felt it.
He was a total creep, but even so, he was a buffer. Len Taylor was something else—not the alpha dog but still a dog without the intelligence and control that Sterling had. And in my book, that made him far more dangerous. Len wouldn’t calculate risks; he’d be driven by ego and compulsion.
Without Sterling there to keep him in check, Len would be a dog off his leash, and I wasn’t looking forward to finding out how untamed he was.
I sucked in a breath, plastered my best fake smile on my face, and approached the table.
“The feast is in a week. What the fuck is Sterling doing?” I heard the man sitting opposite say. “We’re still down two . . .”
Feast.
I slowed my approach, hoping he’d continue, but he glanced up, caught my eyes, and leaned back in his chair.
Damn.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I greeted. “Mr. Taylor, nice to see you, sir. Your usual?”
“Hey there, pretty girl,” he returned, and without his master there to bring him to heel, Len felt free to rake his filthy, beady eyes down my body, paying special attention to my breasts.
Gross.
Once I contained my urge to slap the shit out of him, I asked, “What can I get for you—”
“Yes, my usual,” Len interrupted me.
I glanced at his table mate. “And you, sir?”
Startling blue eyes lifted and latched on to mine. They would’ve been outrageously beautiful if they weren’t so cold. Dead and cold and ominous. His sandy-blond hair would’ve made him look almost younger than he was if it weren’t for the hard set of his jaw and those very emotionless eyes.
“Jack and Coke,” he rumbled.
Jack and Coke.
Rough and abrasive.
Cold and dead.
This man was two thousand levels above Len on the predator scale and two small steps above Sterling.
But that was only because Sterling had exhibited decorum—he had a reputation to uphold, thus he wanted people to believe he had class.
This man, whoever he was, didn’t give a single shit what people thought about him.
I’d bet he had a reputation to uphold as well, but his would be frightening.
Further from that, he got off knowing people were terrified of him.
With a smile, I forced myself to slowly walk away.
“Her,” the man calmly said.
“Dex—”
“Her,” he repeated.
“She’s . . .”
I didn’t hear the rest of what Len said, but I didn’t need to, to know this was bad.
“Hey, you okay?” Poppy asked, falling in step next to me.
“Do you know that man with Len Taylor?”
Thankfully Poppy didn’t look back at the table when she said, “I didn’t get a good look at him, but I don’t think so.”
“Do a lap around the room and see if you recognize him without getting close.”
She leaned closer to ask, “Did he do something?”
Oh, nothing, other than freak me the hell out and make the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention—a feeling every woman knows means danger is close.
“Just got a bad vibe.”
When I got back to the table to deliver drinks, the man called Dex was gone. That was weird, but what was even stranger was Len looking cowed.
“Thank you, Chloe.”
Chloe!
Chloe, not pretty girl.
What the hell?
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“No, that’ll be all.”
With no other reason to stand there, I left the table.
By the time I circled back, the table was empty.
Both drinks sat untouched.