Page 52 of Detour

I cock an eyebrow. “Do you? Want to?”

He takes his time looking over my face then down the rest of my body before making it back to my eyes.

He shrugs noncommittally.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot. Like I can’t believe we get to watch you parade around in a swimsuit and not get called perverts ‘cause it’s in our backyard and we can’t help but appreciate our amazing view.” I smack his arm which only makes him smile wider.

“I don’t parade around. And you’re still a pervert.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shoots me a wink. “Anyway, even if I wanted to make a move, I wouldn’t ‘cause Coty is hooked and I’d never do that to my boy. I’m badass like that.”

“He’s not hooked. He’s bored to death with the sausage fest you three have going across the hall and thinks I can give him some entertainment for a while. He’ll lose interest soon enough.”

“Have you seen him when you come around?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah, he acts like a caveman that wants his way. He’ll tire when he learns he’s never going to get it though.”

“Oh, Angie,” he pats my head, “you have a lot to learn. Coty isn’t looking to hit it and quit it. Dude’s got feelings for you. How else do I need to say it? He likes you, okay? He doesn’t sleep around like…” His eyes dart around, avoiding my gaze. “Marc.” He ignores the choking sound coming from my throat. Glass houses… “If you really don’t want to be with him, then you need to tell him, like today. That boy is one hand job short of being whipped.”

“Are you done yet? Not only did you rudely wake me up but now I’m being lectured by the biggest pig in wolf’s clothing I know. Worst Saturday morning ever,” I grumble.

“Man, your mom really did fuck you up if you don’t even know your fairy tales.”

I flip him my middle finger with my eyes closed which is why I don’t see the pillow coming until it smacks me square in the face.

Beckett shoots off the bed in a flash, saying, “No, please, continue your pity party.”

Pillow in hand, I sit up and cock my arm back. I launch it across the room but Beckett’s freakishly long body is already at the door and, quicker than I thought someone his size capable, he opens and closes it, barely making a sound. The pillow, however, smacks against the wall with a soft thump before landing unceremoniously to the floor. Okay, so my timing and aim were both a little off.

Next thing I know, Beckett’s obnoxious laughter wakes the rest of Creekwood.

Like I said, worst Saturday morning ever.

* * *

Hot Spots being slammed all day worked out well for several reasons. For one thing, I barely had enough time to catch my breath, never mind fixate on Beckett’s early morning admission. Another reason being I only saw Joe once today and it was when I pulled in for my shift. Luckily, he was helping a customer so I was able to skirt by without notice. I had to take the long way around the building for breaks but the extra exercise was worth avoiding my handsy boss.

Just getting home from grocery shopping, my phone rings, cutting off the song “Won’t Go Down Easy” by Jaxson Gamble. When I see UNKNOWN light up the screen, I yank it off the cord and answer it.

“What are you doing?” a male voice asks.

“Who is this?”

“Don’t play dumb, Angela.” Something about the voice seems familiar. Fucking rude, but familiar. “Where are you?”

The shrill ringing of warning bells fills my ears.

“Joe? I already left for the day.”

He just laughs. What’d I miss?

“I know. Do you think you could meet me?”

The bells are now screeching full volume.

“Can it wait ‘til my next shift? I have a bunch of food I need to get inside.” A bunch is a bit of an overstatement but sounds better—more responsible. Unlike Joe’s callous behavior the other night.

Out of habit, I glance around to see if the boys are home. They’re not. Their bikes are gone.