You've Got Fail(36)



“Subway issues.” She plopped onto one of my high-top chairs and stared at the boxes of food. “I’m starving.”

“Allow me.” I walked around the bar and started opening boxes as she grabbed her silverware and sat poised to eat. Feeding her gave me a caveman satisfaction. “Let me know if you don’t want any of this,” I said as I forked some Mongolian beef onto her plate, then sesame chicken, fried rice, and a scoop of white rice.

She dug in, eschewing the chop sticks in favor of her fork. “God, this is so good.”

I added some of everything to my plate and slid next to her. “Glad you like it.” The food was still warm, and my favorite Chinese place didn’t disappoint. Every bite was delicious.

We ate in silence for a while, each of us getting our fill as the awkwardness between us built slowly, like layers of sediment at the bottom of a river. When she grabbed her napkin and wiped her mouth, she shot me a smile. “Sorry. When I’m hungry, I turn into the Hulk. Nothing can keep me from my food.”

“That’s okay.” I glanced at the mint Hulk action figure on a small shelf near my bedroom door.

She followed my gaze. “You and your toys.” She took another bite. “You’re setting up to be the 40-Year-Old Virgin.”

I laughed. “Not a chance. The horse is already out of the barn on that one.”

She nodded and stole a piece of chicken from my plate. “I figured.”

“Yeah?”

“The way you kiss.” She dropped her gaze to her plate. “It was…”

“Fireworks, magical, the best you’ve ever had?” I wiped my mouth and turned to her.

She laughed. “I was going to say experienced.”

“Same dif.” I washed down the last of my food and grabbed our plates, putting them in the sink for later.

She stood and closed the boxes, then stuffed them into my fridge. “So, what did you want to discuss with me?”

“Discuss?” I motioned toward the couch, and settled next to her as she sank into the well-worn leather.

“Did this come from a frat house?” She ran her hand over the cushions and eyed the scarred coffee table.

“No.” The coffee table did. “What makes you think that?”

She smiled, her red lips parting to show me her pretty white teeth. Had I ever thought teeth were pretty before? Definitely not.

“Oh, no reason.” She folded her hands in her lap. “So, what’s going on?”

“This Pauly thing—”

She rose from the couch, but I grabbed her hips and pulled her back down next to me.

“Hear me out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t just manhandle me.” A blush highlighted her cheeks.

“I’m sorry about that. What I was going to say was that I get that you want your privacy on that front. And it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed.

“But—”

“There shouldn’t be a ‘but.’” She narrowed her eyes.

“There is. It’s your business, but if you ever decide that you need help, I’m here. That’s all I wanted to say.” It wasn’t really. I wanted to force her to lay it all out for me, give me the details, and work together to come up with a solution. But I’d already learned that Scarlet didn’t work that way. She was hidden beneath too many layers for me to expect the truth without some sort of incentive or pressure. As it was, I wanted to give her the impression I was backing off…Even if I wasn’t. I couldn’t.

“That’s it?” She chewed on the edge of her bottom lip, in the spot I wanted to lick.

“On that subject, yes.”

“There’s another subject?” She crossed her legs at the knee, her skirt falling to her upper thigh.

My cock tried to bust into the conversation, so I rose and walked to my desk to grab some documents.

She perked up and stared at the paper. “What’s that?”

“A few tips I’ve typed up for you.”

“Tips?”

“Yeah.” I returned to my seat next to her, sitting a little too closely for business talk. Her red hair smelled like strawberries, and I knew she’d taste just as sweet.

Scarlet didn’t seem to mind my creeping and took the papers from my hand. Her eyes scanned the first page that was full of information on how to identify context clues and body language. “I know all this stuff. Reading people is my thing.”

“Flip to the next page.”

She did and continued skimming. “Okay, what’s this?”

“I came up with a few prompts that you might get asked when we’re at events, then added the correct responses. The ones Scarlet Rocket should give.”

“Is there one in here about a hypothetical haunted dick?”

I laughed and pointed to a bullet point near the bottom. “No, but that’s what this is for. If you get a question that is in that vein—”

She snorted, her cute little nose wrinkling. “Sorry, continue.”

The perv in me high-fived her. “Your phone will ring. It will be a call you must take, but you’ll say ‘I’ll only be a minute; it’s my pet-sitter’ or something like that. I’ll be on the other end and tell you the answer. Easy.”

Celia Aaron's Books