Page 89 of Detour

And I never would. There’s also the small fact that I was tied up with Coty all night. My cheeks heat at the reminder, so I busy myself with laundry.

When I see Amity still hovering, I turn around, bracing my hands on the dryer and cock an eyebrow, feigning boredom.

She simply shakes her head. “That’s fucked up.”

I don’t bite.

“He was with his family. With his wife. You got him in trouble.”

I shrug, spreading my hands out in front of me. “I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t call Joe last night. Or any night. If his wife is mad, it has nothing to do with me.”

Amity stands from the doorway and steps closer, pausing. “Whatever’s going on here, keep it here. Don’t involve his family in your drama.” Her eyes cut a path across my body, making her disgust clear.

I push into her face. “Maybe it was your call that tipped his wife off.”

Her nostrils flare. “Joe told me all about you. How you ask to stay after and tease him constantly. I guess you got sick of waiting for him to finally take you seriously. But you should really watch that, desperate doesn’t look good on you.”

Just as I open my mouth, I hear my name, making both our heads snap to the end of the hall. Joe’s bulky form lingers there.

“Car’s coming your way. Get out there before you miss it.” His eyes cut to Amity and she looks down before slipping past.

The dryers kick on, so I grab two towels and rush outside. I’m not sure what the hell that was about but I do know I didn’t call Joe. Aside from the fact that I would never want to talk to him outside of the wash, I don’t even have his number. Anytime he’s called me—that I know of—his number never came up. He usually doesn’t even leave messages. Then it hits me. Last night. Joe did leave a message. Something about a present. I missed the call but a number did come up that time so I texted him. Shit. I texted him. It wasn’t a call but still, I did contact him. Even though it was harmless, Joe obviously ran with it and spun the story to Amity and who knows who else—his wife, too, apparently. But, why?

Accepting the hefty tip, I spot him barreling toward me. Great.

“Why aren’t you wearing your new shirt?”

“Because I’m a grown woman and I don’t wear baby clothes.”

His eyes drop to my shell toes and make their way back up to my face, stopping on my low-cut armpits. I doubled-up on bras today, so I know there’s nothing exciting happening there. He’s just being an asshole to be an asshole.

“I see.” He doesn’t, but he wishes he did. “I’ll be sure to let the boss know your feelings on the required uniforms.”

If Joe doesn’t have to squeeze into a toddler sized shirt—gag!—then why should the female employees be forced to? People still need to get their cars washed, regardless of what size shirt the Hot Spots’ girls are wearing. Detailing pulls way more money than our side does and I swear those halfwits don’t even change out of their sloppy gaming clothes.

“Did you tell Amity I called you?”

Joe struggles to hide his surprise. “She shouldn’t have said anything. She’s on borrowed time here as it is, but I wanted to talk to you about that anyway.” I lift my chin, waiting. “You can’t call me at my house. I have a family that’s separate from work life and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You know I didn’t call you though.”

“Text. Same thing. The point is you can’t hound me while I’m with my family.”

“I texted you once, Joe, after you called me.”

“Talking about gifts and wanting to see me.” He raises his eyebrows.

What the hell? “No, that’s not how it went down.” At. All.

“Do you think my wife read it like that?” He waits and my stomach tightens. Joe’s right, my words taken out of context don’t sound so innocent even if they were.

“Maybe I should have a chat with the boss instead. I’m sure I have much more interesting topics to discuss than t-shirts.”

Joe crosses his arms over his chest. “And what proof do you have?”

I scramble to name something, but come up blank. Joe was careful to never leave his number, and the one time he did, I deleted it and his message before he could even say ‘bye’. I could try citing the time he grabbed me when I stayed late to wash windows but I’m not even sure the cameras in the bay run after closing time.

At my fallen expression, Joe’s face splits into a knowing smile. “That’s what I thought. Don’t rock the boat and you won’t have anything to worry about. I left something in your locker by the way.” He nods behind me, before leaving me there to wonder what the hell just happened. No, seriously, what was that?