"Change of plans." I seated myself at the bar and spotted a bowl of beer nuts. I tapped my fingers along the countertop for a few seconds, trying to resist temptation, before I just couldn't handle it any longer, and I reached out. "Your mom called." My next words were muffled as I chewed. "Ree Ree had to do a pharmacy store run for Sarah. So she dropped me off and will be back once all that's out of the way."
Worry leapt onto his face. "What's wrong with Sarah?"
I shrugged. "Fever. Or something. I'm not sure."
Completely dismissing me, he yanked up his cell phone and started dialing. As he was busy calling Reese, Ten plopped onto the stool beside me.
Hitching his chin my way, he wiggled his eyebrows. "So, you going to breastfeed that kid once it pops out?"
When his gaze fell to my swollen, milk-filled boobs, I sighed. I'd dealt with this exact kind of immature moron way too much in my life. Shifting closer to him, I gave him a flirty smile. "Why, yes. Yes, I am." Touching his arm, I fluttered my lashes. "Hey, do you think you could watch me do it sometime, tell me if it looks right, because . . . " I lifted my fingers to bite one fingernail. "I'm just so new at it, I don't know how to make anyone suck on my tits."
He nodded, dumbly, his mouth falling open. "Hell, yeah, I could watch. You serious, honey?"
"God, no, I'm not serious, you loser." Shoving him hard in the arm, I pushed him off the bar stool he was sitting on. "Get a life and stop hitting on pregnant women. Gah!"
After tripping over his own legs, he landed on his ass, hard. With a mouthful of muttered curses, he scrambled upright and dusted floor grime off the back of his jeans as he scowled. "Jesus, I was just asking. All you had to do was say no."
"No," I said, eyeing him with some serious warning.
He lifted his hands and backed away. "Fine. Whatever. Your loss, milk tits."
When he turned away, Pick finally appeared, striding out of the back hall and running a harassed hand through his damp hair as if something had upset him. A sizzling wave of energy passed through me. I popped off the bar stool so fast I made myself dizzy.
"Hi." I rushed out the breathless greeting.
He lurched to a stop and jerked his head my way. As he stared without responding, I grew nervous.
"I . . . you . . . here. Shirt."
Oh my God. What the hell had I just said?
His eyebrows crinkled with confusion as he looked down at the shirt I was thrusting at him. When he looked up again, I blew out a breath. "Mason called," I finally said with some decorum, even though my cheeks were burning up with embarrassment.
I couldn't believe I was acting like such a ditz. I was Eva Mercer, the queen of cool and collected, unaffected and always hard-to-get. I was supposed to have goddamn attitude here. If I'd just thrown myself at Pick's feet and begged take me, I'm yours, I don't think I could feel any more pathetic than I did now.
"He said you needed a shirt and asked if we could run one of his down to you," I added more calmly. "So . . . voila! Here you go. Cleaned it myself, just today."
He didn't take the shirt. Frowning, he asked, "Mason called you? Wait, you do his laundry?"
I wasn't expecting such questions, and I was a little thrown off by the accusation in his voice.
Blinking and sputtering, it took me a moment to answer. "Well . . . yeah, I do their laundry. If I'm going to live with them and sponge off them, the least I can do is wash their clothes. And it wasn't like he called me, exactly. He called Reese and asked her. But she's . . . otherwise occupied at the moment, and I was just sitting around on the couch, you know, waiting for my baby to be born. So, I volunteered."
He began to smile as if pleased to hear I'd actually wanted to fetch him a shirt. But then another frown marred his brow. He shook his head. "Wait. You live with Mason?"
"What?" My eyes grew big as I blurted out, "No. Not at all. I live with Reese . . . who . . . lives with Mason." When he lifted an eyebrow, I bit my lip. "So, okay, technically, I guess we reside under the same roof. And eat in the same kitchen, and share one miniscule little bathroom, but . . . I don't live with Mason. Nothing like that." When I gave a nervous little laugh, he grinned.
God, I loved his smile. I loved how it made his eyes light up and how his stretched lips made the rings in them shift and move. I just felt so full whenever he looked happy like this.
"Well, thanks for clearing that up. And thanks for the shirt."
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around a portion of cloth. But I wasn't so ready to give up this moment. When he tried to slip it out of my hand, I didn't exactly let him take it. We found ourselves both holding onto the same item, neither of us letting go, playing a seriously hot game of tug-of-war.
"You're welcome," I said, noticing how the drenched shirt he was wearing now clung to his torso. And, wow, who knew someone so slim could have such a defined chest? And was that the outline of a nipple ring I saw through that wet cloth? Oh holy hosanna, the boy had a pierced nipple. Kill me now.