“Scarlett!” Chelsea calls out, dragging my attention away from J faster than seems appropriate. “Come and have a drink.”
At Chelsea’s beckoning, Scarlett has come to a halt in the hall on her way out of the clubhouse. I try not to chuckle at the expression on her face but fail. Scarlett fucking hates being invited to anything by the girls. I’ve seen her flat out tell them no, and I’ve seen her flail around trying to figure out how to politely decline an invitation. It all depends on her mood of the day as to how she’ll respond. Today, she must be in a good mood because she looks like she wants to say no but can’t figure out how to do that.
I take pity on her.
Walking over to where she is, I say, “I can help you escape, but it’s gonna cost you.”
Her uncertainty disappears and she gives me her usual sass. “Anything you’re offering is far too expensive. I’ll take my chances.”
I smile. “What are you doing here?” It’s an unusual occurrence. She generally only comes here if I ask her to drop something off.
“Keaton has nappy rash. I blended some oils and made a cream for Harlow.” Scarlett’s often blending oils for people. It’s the one thing she happily does for others. Hell, she even brought me in some concoction a few months ago when I wasn’t well.
I finish my beer. “You want a drink?”
She glances around the room. “That would be a no. I’m escaping, remember?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Good luck with that since you didn’t take me up on my offer to help. You think those girls are gonna let you leave any time soon?”
“You think those girls have any hope of stopping me?”
A laugh barks out of me. It’s entertaining watching her try to dodge their friendship. Sure, it’s taking them some time to make it happen, but even I can see she’s on a downhill path to failure. I give her six months max before she’s part of their gang.
Leaning in close, I say, “Remind me again what you did yesterday. I seem to recall a haircut was involved. With those girls.”
She glares a little at me. It’s not the full experience I’m used to, but it’s close. “Are you on your man-period this week, Wilder?”
“The fuck is a man-period?”
“It’s that time of the month when a male purposely goes out of his way to annoy or frustrate the women around him.”
She’s telling me all this while glaring her annoyance at me, but there’s something else sitting between us today. Something that’s causing my gut to tighten and my skin to heat. Something I know I should walk away from but can’t quite manage to do.
“I thought I did that without even trying,” I say.
“So true. It’s exponentially worse, though, when on your period.”
“I’ll keep this in mind.”
“Please do. Please send me a warning when it’s that time of month for you.”
I smile because she’s fucking amusing today. “You know what I think?”
“Oh, please enlighten me as to the thoughts filling that mind of yours.”
“I think you could have been outside and in your car by now if you hadn’t stood here talking with me.” I glance over at Chelsea, who’s gone back to Gunnar rather than hounding Scarlett for that drink. “I think you don’t hate talking to me as much as you think you do.”
As these words leave my mouth, my eyes land on the bare skin of her chest that leads to cleavage only half covered by the flimsy white top she’s wearing. There’s no bra in sight today, only the thinnest straps of her top and a V neckline that fucking screams “here, go here.”
I try desperately to find her face again, and almost succeed, but her nipples pebble against her top, completely disorienting me.
I’m saved when Nash’s voice bursts through the room. “Listen up, you fuckers. Velvet and I have something to announce.”
Scarlett turns to look at them and I work like fuck to get a hold of myself.
The hell did I just say to her?
Something about her liking talking to me or some shit?
Fuck, it’s like my mouth has a mind of its own and spewed shit all over the place it shouldn’t have.
I stab my fingers through my hair, trying to decide if I should stay or if I should walk the fuck out and put as much distance between Scarlett and me as possible.
Our work relationship is already fucking precarious; whatever the hell has been going on between us recently needs to stop.
No fucking way can we proceed down this path we seem to be on.
Nash pulls his old lady close, arm around her shoulder, eyes on her, a proud-as-fuck grin on his face. “Velvet and I are having a baby.” His grin grows even though I didn’t think that possible. “There’s gonna be little Nashes running around this joint.”
Velvet returns his grin and shakes her head at him like he’s crazy. He fucking is. Crazy about her. She grips his face and plants a kiss on his lips before saying something that only he hears.
He then lifts his drink. “Drink up, motherfuckers. I know you’re all fuckin’ excited that there’ll be more of me in this world soon.”
Whistles and cheers fill the bar as drinks are downed and more are poured. We’re in for a long one today, and I am on fucking board with that. It seems Scarlett is too.
“I need a drink,” she mutters before taking off in the direction of the bar.
That makes two of us.
Christ, I need a lot of fucking drinks.
I also need to remove my goddamn eyes from Scarlett’s ass.
7
Scarlett
Holy fuck, I must stop drinking.
Famous last words of any good day out.
Also, famous last words before a girl says and does shit with a guy she shouldn’t say and do shit with.
I actually haven’t had that much to drink; I just haven’t eaten a lot today, so what I have drunk has gone straight to my head. No good decisions are ever made when alcohol has gone straight to your head.
This whole situation started when Wilder checked out my boobs after telling me he thinks I like talking to him. I don’t cope well when he checks out my breasts. That fact was established last night when he demanded I use the bathroom at work to get changed.
Since Nash announced he has sperm that do their job, we’ve avoided each other. We’ve spent those three hours drinking and talking to all the people. Well, I have; I don’t know how many people Wilder’s talked to.
That’s a flat-out lie.
He’s talked to sixteen people.
I’ve kept track of him.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I do know that I’ve lost my ability to function as an intelligent woman. If I hadn’t, I would have left hours ago.
“Scar, can you give me a hand clearing this food into the kitchen?” Harlow asks, sneaking up on me as I covertly watch Wilder talk to a couple I don’t know.
“Jesus, Harlow, don’t sneak up on a girl. I almost spilled my drink.”
She looks at my glass before giving me a pointed look. “Your glass is empty. I think we both know what you were doing.”