Hit the Spot

“Hmm. Interesting,” Syd murmured, moving to stand beside me again.

“What?” I asked. I scooped some ice into the glass and started filling it with Coke.

“Oh, nothing,” she sighed. “Just that you put in the order for Jamie without adding on the Loser Special. That’s all. No big deal or anything. Except it totally is a big deal. A huge deal.”

I stopped filling up the glass with Coke and held it there, finger on the dispenser button but no longer pressing.

She was right. She was totally right.

I always added on the Loser Special to Jamie’s orders. Always. Since that very first day. And now I wasn’t. Never again.

I was done asking Stitch to mess with Jamie’s food, because I was done wanting him to catch something, get sick, and never return.

I was done running away, avoiding, and trying my hardest to keep Jamie from seeing me. And I was done trying to convince myself I didn’t want to see him. I wanted him coming here. I wanted him coming here for me.

If my heart had a mouth, it would totally be saying “I told you so” right about now.

Lips curling up, I finished dispensing the Coke into the glass. Then I spun around and reached for the bottle of grenadine, my eyes lifting to look at Jamie since I’d just had a revelation, and hell, I wanted him seeing how I felt about it.

The hand reaching for the grenadine bottle gripped it, but didn’t raise it up.

I blinked. My stupid, quick-beating heart curled into a ball and sank into the pit of my stomach. And I was transported back to that night I stood in Jamie’s bedroom doorway and watched him engage in a foursome with those women.

The same ones who were apparently joining him for lunch.

Chapter Fourteen

JAMIE

“Well, look who it is.”

Dragging my eyes off Tori as she walked away, I turned my head and tipped it back, looking at the three faces smiling down at me and not having any fucking clue which one of them just spoke.

Not really caring either. What the fuck were they doing here?

“Mind if we join you?” Amy Baker asked, moving before I answered and sliding into the seat across from me.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ mind,” I shot back, not sounding like too much of a dick but making it known I wasn’t feeling having them join me.

Amy laughed. So did her sisters, Becca and Sue, who apparently couldn’t hear for shit or were just choosing not to listen. Becca slid in next to Amy, and Sue squeezed onto the five inches of bench seat I had vacant on my end.

Didn’t have much opinion of the three of them after our night together. Didn’t have much opinion of any hookup, if that was all it was. And these three were definitely a hookup. Nothing more. Stepsisters wanting to pass me around and do a little sharing and not giving a fuck they were sort of related.

Knew I’d see them around again eventually, but here? I did not need to be seeing them here. And I sure as fuck didn’t want to share a meal with them, which looked to be their agenda.

“You deaf?” I asked Sue, glaring at her and not scooting over to give her room, which meant she stayed pressing against my side to prevent from falling off.

She rolled her eyes, huffing, “Fine.” Then she stood up and squeezed onto the bench with her sisters.

Jesus. Here we fucking go.

“We wanted to talk to you about surf lessons,” Amy informed me. “We were going to call Wax but since you’re here—”

“Call Wax,” I interrupted. “Talk to Cole about it.”

“But Cole isn’t here,” Becca pointed out, a smile slowly lifting her lips. “You’re here.”

“Why I said to call,” I returned coldly.

Becca stopped smiling.

“Jesus, Jamie. What’s crawled up your butt?” Amy griped, acting like I’d invited her ass to sit down and now all of a sudden I was giving her shit about it. “You can’t answer our questions? Why? ’Cause you’re off the clock or something? That’s crap.”

“Yeah. And bad business,” Sue added.

I filled my lungs with air, releasing it slowly as I looked between the three of them. Guess I could answer their questions if that was all they were wanting. Maybe if I did, they’d get the fuck up and leave.

“What’d you wanna know?” I prompted, keeping my one arm on the back of the booth and bringing my other hand up to rest on the table, cracking my fingers one at a time.

“How much are they?” Amy inquired.

“One-fifty per lesson for private. We got package deals where you can book three to five. Those are four twenty-five and seven hundred. We offer group lessons as well.”

“And how much time do we get with you?” Becca asked, resting her chin on her hand.

“None,” I replied.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

I looked at Sue after she spoke. “Lesson times run about an hour. You wanna talk specifics, you can talk to the man who’s gonna give them to you. That ain’t me. Only other option you got is Cole and he’s at the shop, which is why I said to call Wax. Don’t know his schedule so talkin’ to me about it is a waste of time.”

“But why can’t you give the lessons? You’re the best,” Sue asked.

“Yeah.” Amy bit her lip. “The best.”

Becca covered her mouth and giggled. Sue was smiling and Amy was practically eye-fucking me across the table.

My gaze hardened. Jesus. This wasn’t about lessons. They were looking for a repeat. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">