Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(103)

As she poured him his drink, he took in her tight red top, her ass in her jeans, and her high heels. Finally, he felt himself calming.

“Good news is, the talk me and her had to have is done,” he shared.

She set the bottle aside and leaned in to her forearms. “Yeah?”

“Not the way I wanted it to go,” he said.

When he took a sip of whisky and didn’t elucidate, she prompted, “Talk to me, gorgeous.”

Garrett shrugged slightly.

“Said what I had to say,” he told her. “Seein’ as she came in pissed as all hell, thinkin’ me goin’ out with you was me testin’ her, not sure she heard. She said a few words. I returned a f*ckuva lot more. Not thinkin’ she got me seein’ as I told her to get her ass out, but she didn’t leave, so I did. She might still be at my place. Or, alternately, she left, leavin’ my pad wide open and I’ll get home later to find I need to go out and buy a new TV.”

As he spoke, he watched her eyes get big, and when he was done, she asked, “You left her there?”

“Yeah. Closed the door on her, she was still talkin’.”

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

“She wouldn’t leave and I was done, so I had no choice.”

Her lips twitched.

He might be calming, but he found not one thing funny.

“It wasn’t the way I wanted it to go, Cher,” he reminded her.

“You walked out with your ex-wife in your place,” she stated.

“Couldn’t strong-arm the bitch,” he pointed out. “She was okay with shovin’ me, but man’s any man at all, he’s got it in him to check it even if he’s itchin’ to shove back.”

Her lips were no longer twitching.

“She shoved you?”

“Twice.”

He saw that he might be calming, but Cher was not.

“You’re f*cking shitting me,” she spat.

No, she was not calming, and as cute as she looked, preparing to turn into a hellcat for him, it was time to focus on calming her.

“It’s done. May take a while, but if the words don’t sink in, my actions will. Only thing I gotta worry about now is hittin’ my place later and findin’ it cleaned out. I got a plan to take my girl’s boy out with her and her mom to celebrate his birthday at Swank’s. Won’t be able to do that if I gotta drop two large on a TV.”

That did it. All the anger vanished when he talked about taking Ethan to Swank’s for his birthday.

But her lips parted when he talked about dropping two grand on a television.

“Two large?” she asked, her eyebrows going up.

“Gotta get a new one, not gonna f*ck around. Trade up. Eighty inches.”

“Your media center won’t fit an eighty-inch TV,” she noted.

“Then I’ll also have to buy a new media center.”

She stared.

Then she busted out laughing.

And that was it.

All that he needed.

Cher was laughing.

Garrett was calm.

He reached out and nabbed her hand.

She didn’t pull away.

More for the ’burg to chew on and he felt the eyes. He knew that he and Cher were the latest meal.

He didn’t care. And even if he did, he’d care less when her hand latched on to his and she leaned deep across the bar.

“Silver lining, gorgeous, your to-do list is one lighter,” she said, still laughing.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

She held his hand and hers tightened as the humor slid from her.

“Sucks, baby,” she whispered. “Wish it didn’t go down like that for you.”

He did too.

But at least it was done.

He just had to hope his message finally leaked in so Mia would stop her shit.

Then again, he was going to look for a new place (another reason to hope his TV was there when he got back; he didn’t need that outlay lightening his down payment). Eventually, he’d move and she wouldn’t be able to find him.

Or he’d have her ass arrested for harassment.

One way or another, the message would get across.

He looked into Cher’s warm brown eyes as they looked into his, assessing to see if he was okay.

To show her he was, he asked, “My good girl find time for just her and me?”

Those eyes went soft and her fingers stayed firm around his when she replied, “Batten down the hatches, Merry. Had a chat with Mom. Family dinner is set for Thursday with your ass in a seat at her table.”

“Terrific,” he muttered, and she smiled.

“But I got Saturday off and Ethan has a sleepover at a friend’s, so I’m all yours.”

“I’m on call.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“On call doesn’t mean on a desk,” he told her. “Just means I might have to leave, but it also means I can come back.”

Her eyes brightened. “That works, honey.”

It did. It was his life. And if he didn’t jack it up, it could be hers. So it was good she could work with it.

“Now, you gonna let that whisky sit forever, or are you gonna rinse away the shit and get loose with me while I’m workin’?” she asked.

He gave her his answer by letting her go, grabbing his glass, and taking another sip.