“Yeah,” I told him.
He moved closer to me.
Shit.
“Dude’s not your style, darlin’,” he said in what I expected was his come-on voice.
It did nothing for me for more reasons than the fact the asshole didn’t even know my name, so he couldn’t know what my style was.
Unless he made assumptions about me.
Which pissed me off.
However, I could not engage.
And that sucked.
“’Fraid you’re wrong,” I replied, stepping away.
“That guy’s too clean-cut,” he declared, taking another step toward me. “You seem like a woman who likes to have fun, let it all hang out.” His gaze dipped to my tits. “And you can feel free to do that with me, baby.”
He was right. I was that kind of woman, and I was good doing that with Merry because my dickhead neighbor read Merry wrong—Merry was also that kind of man.
“Think we can have good times, you and me,” he stated, looking into my eyes again and taking yet another step toward me.
“Think my man wouldn’t be too happy about that,” I returned an understatement. “But you gotta know, I am happy with my guy, so no offense to you and your offer, but I’m good where I’m at.”
“You sure you wouldn’t wanna take a shot at better?” he pushed.
Him? Better?
He’d been watching but had he actually seen Merry?
“Got a good thing,” I said softly, hoping to get through and get this asshole away from me. “Been waitin’ for it a long time. It’s good for me. It’s good for my kid. No way I’m gonna fuck that up. You with me?”
Not that I’d even consider it with him.
Then again, I wouldn’t consider it with anybody…but Merry.
He studied me.
I let him.
When I was about to quit letting him, thankfully, he nodded.
“I’m with you, babe. I hear that. But I’m two doors down, you know? Shit happens with that dude, he doesn’t look after you, there’s always a cold one waitin’ for you just down the street.”
I had a feeling he didn’t know what looking after a woman meant.
And I was never going to find out.
“Thanks, that’s sweet,” I lied.
He smiled.
He had good teeth, but I knew that was all that was good about him.
“You ever need anyone to look after your boy, I’m around a lot.” He kept smiling. “And I like kids.”
And that was never going to happen.
“That’s sweet too,” I lied again.
“Just so you know, in case shit goes south, I can be all kinds of sweet.”
How was he not getting the hint?
“Noted,” I murmured.
He kept smiling. “Later, babe.”
“Right. Later.”
He did a slow turn, doing it watching me.
I did a quick turn and hoofed it to my house.
Once I got inside, I finished my text to Merry and hit send.
Ethan’s all good and you’re all kinds of sweet.
And that was no lie.
The second after I sent that, I went to my Contacts and found what I needed.
I put my phone to my ear and got Ryker’s voicemail.
I waited for the beep and shared, “My dickhead neighbor just asked me out. He took no for an answer, but that didn’t stop him from pushin’ it and bein’ chatty. Since it’s flyin’ through the ’burg, you gotta know Merry and me sorted things out. If you don’t want Merry breathin’ down your neck on this, or wadin’ in and committing felonies when the badass is unleashed, you need to do whatever it is you’re doin’ and you need to do it quick. My neighbor is watchin’, that watchin’ he’s doin’ is watchin’ me, and if Merry cottons on to that, all holy hell is gonna break loose.”
I got a beep to tell me I got a text before I finished my message, so when I was done, I went right there to see the text from Merry.
Late lunch. You and me. Frank’s. You good for 2:00?
I had early shifts that week.
But I’d go to the moon at any time he wanted to have lunch with Merry.
In other words, I was good with anything.
You’re on, I told him.
Text me with your order sometime between then and now. I’ll call it in before we go so you’ll get out in time.
He thought of everything.
Thanks, baby.
Anything, brown eyes.
I drew in a deep breath.
Yeah.
Fuck yeah.
I had a good thing.
* * * * *
Sit tight. Be smart. And don’t jack shit up.
That text was not from Merry.
That text was a poorly timed incoming from Ryker while I was sitting across from Merry at Frank’s with a breaded tenderloin sandwich in front of me.
Get a move on, but now, shut up. I’m with Merry, I returned.
“Who’s that?” Merry asked, lifting his Reuben and the inevitable happening, considering it was a Reuben à la Frank, shoved full of corned beef and sauerkraut, which meant a huge glob of it fell out before Merry even got it to his mouth.
I tossed my phone in my purse and ignored his question.
“You should know this, actually bein’ from the ’burg and all, but you gotta eat a Reuben à la Frank with a fork,” I educated him.
“Women eat sandwiches with forks,” he replied to me. “Men make a mess and don’t give a fuck.”
I couldn’t argue his point, so I didn’t. I took a bite of my sandwich.