How long has it been?
Paul. That giant asshat was my last regrettable encounter. I met Mason the following week. Am I into double digits territory?
Holy shit. That had to be at least two weeks ago.
“Do you need a calendar, Brooke? There’s one right over there.”
Ignoring Dylan and her question, I open up a paper bag and begin filling it with banana muffins, keeping my eyes down and focusing on my task.
“So what if it’s been longer than usual since I’ve had sex. Who cares? I’m doing other stuff with Mason. I’m still getting off. I don’t see what the big fucking deal is or why both of you are bugging me about it.”
Silence.
No wiseass responses. No amusing little noises like I’ve been listening to all morning.
Have my prayers been answered? Am I suddenly the only employee of Dylan’s Sweet Tooth?
I look up and spot two pairs of eyes on me.
Damn.
Joey looks over at Dylan, grinning wildly. “I so wish I would’ve gotten that adorable speech on camera. You?”
She nods slowly. “Absolutely.”
What the fuck are they going on about now?
“What?” I ask, setting the bag down. My hands flatten on the wood as I flick my gaze between the two of them. “What did I say?”
Dylan straightens on her stool and rests her hand on her belly. “You just admitted you don’t care anymore that Mason is withholding sex from you. You, Brooke Wicks, don’t care about sex because you’re spending time with a man who is making you so happy, you’re forgetting what you’re missing.” She tilts her head. “Now, are you ready to admit why you don’t care?”
“I just told you!” I yell, slapping a hand over my mouth.
Oh, my God. What am I doing?
Dylan and Joey both startle from my outburst. Worried glances are exchanged, and then directed at me.
Shit! Get it together, Brooke. You like having a job. You need a job. No more incidents like that or your ass is going to be out on the street.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my hand and looking across the worktop at Dylan. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
She unscrews the cap on her water and brings it to her mouth. “All right.”
Reaching back and untying my apron, I calmly continue after I’ve settled on a more appropriate work-place volume. “As I told you, I’m still getting off with Mason. The orgasms he gives me are some of the best of my life. Maybe even the best. It would be different if I was just hanging out with this guy and he wasn’t touching me, but he is. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t had sex yet. Mason’s foreplay is on point.”
Joey shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “What is he to you? Boyfriend? Friend with benefits? What?”
“We’ve been over this,” I sternly reply, tossing my apron onto the table. “Jesus. He’s just this guy I’m spending time with. And in five minutes when you ask me that question again, he’ll still be just this guy I’m spending time with.”
Dylan stands from her stool and reaches for her pink mixer, sliding it in front of her. “Denial doesn’t look good on you, Brooke. Stop wearing it.”
“Oh, my God,” I softly utter, snatching up the muffin bag and setting it on top of the three boxes.
I need to get out of here. Far away from these two. I’ve never done a delivery by myself before but I’ve knocked out tons with Joey. It’s usually the two of us.
Well, that’s not happening today. If I don’t get a break from this madness, I’m going to end up burning this place to the ground just to avoid further conversation.
Joey comes to stand beside me. He rubs his hands eagerly together, looking between the boxes and my face.
“Ready to go, Mrs. King?”
My eyes widen. He did not just fucking go there.
Did I say burn this place to the ground? I meant slaughter a third of the staff.
Fists clenching at my sides, I step closer to him. Joey leans back when he registers the look on my face.