Fumbled (Playbook #2)(78)
He ignores me and keeps talking. “We don’t have the alley monitored, they must have known.”
“Or the alley’s already creepy, and adding burned football paraphernalia only adds to its natural ambiance.” I walk around the bar, abandoning my job, and position myself between TK’s legs. “You have to stop thinking about it. We filed a report, I’m not going to walk to or from work alone anymore. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it,” is his well-thought-out and mature response.
“I know. I don’t like it either.” I wrap my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in his hair. God, I so love his hair. “Maybe tonight after Ace goes to bed, we can try and distract each other.”
I don’t even get to do the sexy wink (which probably isn’t sexy at all and might just look like I have something stuck in my eye) before his mouth is on mine. It’s fast and hard, but it confirms my plans for tonight.
I roll to my tiptoes, needing his mouth once more and maybe for a little bit longer.
“Get out of here, TK, you’re ruining the vibe of my bar,” Brynn interrupts us.
I burrow my head in TK’s chest, knowing if I look up, my cheeks are going to be bright red.
“You’re such a liar,” TK smirks, not at all fazed we got caught kissing at my job. “You should put a cardboard cutout of me in the corner, that’s how much all your customers want me around.”
I push out of TK’s hold and roll my eyes at his ridiculous comeback while also wondering where I could get a life-size TK cutout for myself.
“I forgot what a cocky fucker you are.” Brynn shakes her head, but the smile spreading across her face lets me know I’m not in too much trouble. “How you managed to land Poppy will go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”
She might be giving him a hard time, but that was so sweet I contemplate transferring my PDA to her.
“This is true.” TK’s voice and eyes soften. “I’m fuckin’ lucky.”
I don’t know if most great writers drop an F-bomb into their declarations of love, but unlike most of the heroines in those stories, I love nothing more than a well-placed “fuck” . . . in every way.
“Okay.” I look between the two of them. “Too many compliments and I don’t know how to handle them. You”—I point at Brynn—“that was really nice of you to say and I promise I won’t kiss my boyfriend on the clock anymore. And you . . .” I turn my attention to TK, who, now that I’m really focused on him, looks way too big to be sitting on the sleek, acrylic barstool. “Since you aren’t at work, go pick up Ace from school.”
Brynn is the shit for many reasons.
She created a kickass bar marketed and designed for women. She even put a photo booth outside the bathroom, for heaven’s sake. She manages to wear dresses, sneakers, and buns and look like a freaking model. She comes into work every day with next to no makeup on and has a genuine compliment for everyone who crosses her path. You don’t find that combination of beauty, success, and kindness in many people, so I don’t downplay any of this.
But what I love her for the most is, after hiring me on the spot when I’d just showed up, she went out and bought a small desk, chair, and extra computer for the back room so Ace could come here after school while I work. She lets me take a break every afternoon to walk to his school and bring him to work with me. And every day, when we walk into the back room, she has goodies from Fresh sitting on the desk, waiting for him.
Ace loves coming and he loves Brynn (he won’t admit it, but I’m pretty sure he has a decent-size crush on her as well). But Brynn, like me, does not come close to TK in Ace’s eyes. TK picking up Ace from school is the equivalent of the Spice Girls picking me up from school in that kickass bus they drove in Spice World. A freaking dream come true.
“I can do that.” TK drains the rest of the root beer from his glass. “What time does he get out again?”
“Three thirty.” I look at the time on the register behind the bar. “You still have a couple of hours.”
TK came with me to pick Ace up a few times, but I just forced him into the car when it was time to go. This will be his first solo school pickup and I can tell he’s nervous. The carpool line monitors are freaking intense. He’s seen me get scolded twice already.
“Cool. Then I’m gonna head home and take care of a few things, maybe run to the store and step up your junk food game.” He stands up and stretches his arms above his head, like sitting on the stool was even more uncomfortable for him than I originally guessed.
“We do not need any more junk food!” I wish I could hide the panic in my voice, but I am the kind of person who can eat healthy only if there’s no other option. The second Oreos enter the house, I lose any semblance of self-control. And now that I no longer have to work in lingerie, my discipline levels are lacking even more than normal.
“Don’t worry,” TK says, knowing about my sweet tooth. “I’ll get man snacks. You won’t want any of them.”
“A man snack?” I ask at the same time Brynn asks, “What the fuck is a man snack?”
“You know.” TK shrugs, pulling his beanie out of his pocket and tugging it over his head. “Mountain Dew, beef jerky, oversize candy bars, that kind of shit.”