Page 35 of Piece Of Me

But she knew it wasn’t enough. It didn’t come close.

CHAPTER 11

“Well, this is something I never thought I’d see.” Mike Paul walked into Taz’s kitchen, a comical look on his face. He crossed the room and stood staring. Dressed in work clothes that were covered in mud, he’d at least had the decency to leave his boots at the front door.

“You might want to close your yap. It’s hanging open and begging for a fly,” Taz said dryly. “We all know where flies spend most of their time.”

“Sure do,” Mike Paul said, taking a stool at the island. “Sitting on a big pile of shit.” He took out his cell phone, snapped a photo and grinned. “Shooting this sucker into the group chat. “Matt Major is going to lose his mind.”

Taz swore and grabbed the cookie tray from the oven. It was only Wednesday, but already his week had been a bit of a shit show. He didn’t need ribbing from Mike Paul.

“You act like you’ve never seen a man bake before.”

“That’s because I haven’t.”

“What the hell do you eat?”

“Take out or Mama’s cooking.” Mike Paul cranked his neck for a better look. “That peanut butter?”

“With chocolate chips.”

“Milk chocolate?”

“Is there any other kind?”

Mike Paul sat back. “Not in my books. Can I have one?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t be an asshole. I just had my hand stuck up the back end of one of your heifers. I deserve a reward.”

Taz set the cookie tray on the counter to cool. “I hope you washed your hands.”

“Look at you, Mr. Martha Stewart.” Mike Paul’s eyes narrowed a bit. “What’s the occasion?”

Taz considered sidestepping the question, but he knew his buddy well enough to know he wouldn’t give up. He tossed the oven mitts.

“Scarlett.”

Mike Paul was rarely surprised, but the look on his face said everything. “As in Bridgestone?”

“Do you know another one?”

“Nope,” Mike Paul replied with a chuckle. “So, your Friday night Dirty Dancing at the Sundowner wasn’t a one-time thing.”

“We’ve been hanging out,” Taz admitted.

“Huh,” Mike Paul said with a slight frown. “I thought you were seeing Nikki.”

“Ended it.”

“When?”

“Does it matter?” Annoyed, Taz glanced at his watch.

“I guess not.” Mike Paul grabbed a cookie and took a bite. “Damn, these are good. They from a box?”

“From scratch.” Insulted, Taz made a face before grabbing one for himself.

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