Page 81 of Direct Action

“That’s damn impressive, baby.”

Chloe shrugged. “I told you I’ve worked in a lot of bars.”

No, her ability to read people didn’t come from working in a bar. She might’ve honed the skill working around people, but that was a gift she was born with.

I knew Pete felt the same way I did by the way he was staring at her.

“We got sidetracked,” Chloe said. “What did you want to tell me?”

I shook my head, no longer sure telling her was the right thing to do.

“I trust you, Ryan. I don’t even know why I questioned you in the first place. I know you’d never put me in the position to have to lie or hurt my best friend.”

Fuck, that felt good.

Really fucking good.

Almost good enough to forget that she hadn’t talked to me about her dad but she had told her coworkers.

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.