Page 53 of HateMates

I look at myself again, finding her eyes in the reflection in the mirror. “I love it.”

She claps her hands. “We’ll take it.” The woman nods, walks over to the register, and I disappear into the dressing room to change. After a few minutes, I hear Tate speak softly and then Fay is knocking on my door. “Let me in, Parks. I’ve got you.”

Frustrated that he sold me out, I open it. “You should have told me.”

“It doesn’t hurt as bad. And I need to move it around more. I have to work tonight.”

“Stop being stubborn, and let me help you.” She slides my shirt back on and steps back, eyeing me. “Are you sure you should be working? You were just in a serious accident. Maybe take some time off.”

“I can’t. I need the money.”

“Healing is more important.”

“Not when you don’t have a home to heal at. Look, it’s fine. I have a date. Maybe he’ll turn out to be my sugar daddy.”

“Youwhat?” She stares at me, confused.

“Yeah, Vince. My savior, remember? He called and asked me out.”

“Hmmm…”

“I know what you’re thinking. That ship sailed—then it sank, never to be found again.”

“Hmmm…” she says again.

“Knock it off.”

“I’m just saying, I saw the way he was eyeing you in those dresses. I’m not sure that ship ever left the dock.”

“Yeah… well, that ship made it clear I’m not part of his journey. Now, can we not talk about him? I like this guy. He’s cute and funny. And normal.”

“Normal.”

“Yes. Normal. I can use normal.”

One brow raises. “You hate normal. You say normal is boring.”

“I changed my mind. Normal is great. Trust me, once you meet him, you’ll change yours too.”

“Ladies, are you two doing okay in there?”

Fay smiles at me, letting it go, then replies to the saleswoman, “No, we’re in desperate need of more champagne.”

***

The bar is slammed. My shoulder is on fire, and the bandage on my leg keeps rubbing against my jeans. Plus, Tate’s scowl hasn’t disappeared since the hotel, where we got into a huge blowout because I refused to stay locked up until they caught the bad guy.

“How many times do I have to tell you you don’t get to make those decisions?”

“When it involves your safety, I sure as fuck do.”

“Well, un-involve yourself. I’m going to work.”

“You’re acting like a fucking child.”

“What did you just call me?” I ask, my voice eerily calm. I’m going to murder him.

“You heard me.”

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