Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(109)

“That’s noted, too,” Ren replied immediately, but now his lips were actually quirking.

“I’m not being funny,” I informed him. “She already gave me a nasty look and nasty words and told me since you were taken, her only hope was Dom, who everyone knew had a wandering eye.”

All amusement fled his face and his eyes narrowed.

Finally.

“She said that?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I answered.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“You got that right,” I told him.

“What nasty words did she give you?” he asked, and I felt his vibe beginning to weigh down the air, but I didn’t care. If that meant Dawn would be out of his office, life and my life—forever—I’d bear the beast.

“She said she heard I had a thing with you and she prayed it wasn’t true, but God doesn’t listen to her.”

His jaw got hard again, this time the muscle jumping there. He looked toward the wall that separated his office from reception, murmuring, “I’ll check the phone logs.”

“You might want to check company email, too,” I advised.

He looked back at me and nodded.

“Now that I’ve had a run-in with Dawn, I need coffee and donuts about seventeen thousand times more than I normally need coffee and donuts,” I shared.

The mood in the room shifted. His lips quirked again then he moved in to brush them to mine and let me go.

Ren saw to the coffees while I disbursed the donuts and after I’d snarfed down half of my Bavarian cream, he asked, “When’s your meeting with your brothers tonight?”

“Five thirty,” I answered through cream and dough.

He grinned as he watched me speak.

I took a swig of coffee and another bite.

Then he stated, “I’ll make a reservation for eight. Will that give you enough time to do that and get ready?”

Something hit me and I panicked.

He noticed it immediately. Then again, I’d stopped snarfing down my donut and froze, staring at him.

“Ally?” he called.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

Shit!

“What?” he asked.

“Well, um…” I started but trailed off.

His brows knit. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

Fuck. I had to tell him.

Whatever. We were living together. He’d find out eventually.

“It’s Monday,” I declared.

“Yeah,” he prompted.

“Monday night is Castle night,” I told him, and his head jerked.

“It’s what night?”

“Castle night.”

“What the f**k is that?” he asked.

“It’s a TV show,” I answered, and he blinked. I hurried on. “If we do a late dinner, we might not be home in time to watch it.”

He stared at me.

“Though, we can DVR it before we go, which would work,” I allowed grudgingly. “But I usually try to watch it as it airs.”

He kept staring at me.

Then he queried slowly, “We’ve had our first date delayed for over a year—so long we’re actually living together and committed to each other before we actually have it— and you want to delay another night for a TV show?”

“It’s Castle,” I explained simply, because no way was I going to explain why I really didn’t want to miss it.

“Is it that good?” he asked.

It was. But mostly it had Nathan Fillion. That was, it had tall, funny, talented, good-looking (did I mention funny? And tall?) Nathan Fillion.

My celebrity crush.

Do you feel me? No way I was going to share that.

I just said, “Yes.”

“Can you wait to watch it until tomorrow?” he asked.

I might be working a pole tomorrow.

I totally didn’t share that.

“Sure,” I said and took another bite of donut.

Ren studied me.

I swallowed, washed donut back with coffee and threw him a smile to throw him off track.

This failed.

“Are there any other TV shows you feel this way about?”

“Um…” I started, because there were.

Luckily most of them were cancelled, but unfortunately my collection of series DVDs had been incinerated in an apartment bomb.

I decided to answer, “The most important one is Castle.”

This was true. Mostly because that was the only one still airing that had Nathan Fillion in it.

I made a mental note to hit a computer and order Firefly from Amazon and ate my last bite of donut.

“Maybe I should ask you twenty questions,” he suggested on a mutter, balling up the donut bag and tossing it in a bin behind his desk.

“Shoot,” I invited.

He looked at me. “Tonight. Sexy dress. Heels. Champagne. And twenty questions.”

“You got it, babe,” I murmured then licked Bavarian cream residue from my fingers.

I finished this then found myself plastered against Ren where he went about tasting Bavarian cream on my tongue.

He tasted of cinnamon twist.

It was an awesome combination.

He lifted his head and whispered, “Let’s go see your new office.”