Page 67 of Bona Fide

“That’s the thing—” I spin around to face him. “—I hate doing this shit.”

Andy’s brows furrow. “Seriously? I thought you didn’t mind it so much.” I shrug, crossing my arms along my chest.

I guess, at first, it wasn’t so bad. It was really good money, a lot of work but kept my mind off my failures of being a good friend to Jed, the shitty relationship with Grant, the mounting bills Mama had, and that Marty is out doing shit.

But now, it’s just tedious. Having to deal with entitled pricks and lavish parties that are so unnecessary when I know that money could do some good somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

I’m just over it.

“It’s just endless,” I retort. “I’m tired of the rich. I’d rather deal with my kind of people.”

Andy lets out a soft chuckle. “That’s nice. But I can’t see your point unless you found a sugar daddy.”

“Been there, done that.”

“Touché.” We get lost in a baking battle show when there's a knock on the door from our DoorDash delivery.

Bouncing from my spot, I stride for the door, yanking it open just to suspend there with my jaw agape and what the fuck screaming in my head.

“Hey,” Wade mutters, raking his hand through his hair. “Sorry for popping by unexpected but I—”

“I already tipped him on the app,” Andy calls out. “They’re good.” A dark glare swiftly illustrates Wade’s face as his eyes follow the sound of my best friend’s timely words.

And...shit.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to snap his scrutiny to me. His blues fall back to me, overcast with animosity and a whole lot of pissed off.

“Catch you at a bad time?” he retorts, the twitch of his jaw sounding off that he’s about to snap my best friend’s neck.

Yeah, this is definitely not what he thinks.

Not that it’s any concern of his, really, I mean, we’re not...I stop myself right there. I’m the one who almost lost my entire shit on Demi the other day in his office when she practically called me a whore and thought she could speak to me however she wanted.

I might not have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth but I’ll be damned if I let some model-looking bitch make me feel unworthy of her man.

“Not at all,” I reply, slowly closing the door behind me. Wade’s hand comes up to stop it from fully closing as he takes a step in my direction, his chest brushing mine.

“Introduce me,” he deadpans, now towering over me with his cocky, asshole demeanor.

I cock a brow. “Do you really want to do that, Governor?” He leans forward, smelling faintly of expensive cologne and whiskey.

“Do you think I give a flying fuck about that right now?”

“You better or the last few years of your life would be for nothing.” His mouth sets in a fine line before releasing the door to let me close it.

Taking a step back, he assesses me, taking in my skimpy Nike shorts and plain white tee. I’m not wearing shoes or socks, it makes me feel restricted, but now I wish I had.

I look like a hot mess. A girl who could’ve just gotten flipped upside down, eaten out, and fucked for the last thirty minutes.

“Who’s the dude?” Wade sneers, jerking his head towards the house. “I didn’t know you started seeing other guys.”

“Oh, while you have a wife at home, waiting for—” Wade’s hand slams into my door, and I know Andy heard that.

“One more time, Shelton,” he growls through his teeth. “I want to hear you call her my wife one more fucking time.”

“You don’t get to give me a time limit on how I’m supposed to feel,” I snap back.

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