Page 33 of Two Wrongs

She waggles her eyebrows. “You slut, I absolutely worship the skanky ground you walk on. That man is a meal.”

I blush, remembering Griffin call me that, then school my features. “I don’t think slut is supposed to be a compliment.”

Bess shrugs a shoulder. “I’m reclaiming it. In my book slut and bitch are both aspirational goals. I’m going to throw my kitty wherever I want to and I’m not going to take any shit while I do it.”

“Huh,” I say. “Maybe you’re my shero.”

“I bet he’s a kinky fuck, amirite?” she asks.

I laugh. “My lips are sealed.”

“Hopefully not for daddy Hale,” she says while doing a dance.

My eyes widen and my mouth falls open.

She looks at me, and a smile slowly spreads across her face. “Oh my god! I was joking, but do you…oh you kinky bitch. Real talk,” her joking demeanor turns serious, “your husband did a number on you. Even if this thing with his dad is just good sex and revenge, I’m one hundred percent behind you. Whatever you need to do to get a piece of your power back, you do it, and don’t you feel any guilt for how that douchebag ex of yours feels about it.”

“Well, whatever it was, it’s over. Nothing happened between us while I still lived with Liam, but no matter what, that’s his dad. So, I might not have anything to feel guilty about, I can’t put Griffin in that position.”

We got pretty busy considering it is Monday. There’s not a lot to do in this town, and there’s a lot of reasons people want to forget everything, even for a little while. So Bess and I hustle serving drinks for the next few hours. It’s around midnight by the time the bar starts to clear out. I don’t envy the shift managers in the morning when they’re trying to get a day’s work out of a hung over crew.

I yawn, and Donovan guides me to sit on one of the stools. “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. You work at the insurance agency tomorrow, right?”

I bob my head. The emotional toil followed by working two jobs is starting to drag me down. I long for my bed, and at least six hours of unconscious peace.

“Go on and take off. Bess will stay and help me clean up. Won’t you Bessie?” he shouts across the bar.

“Would you quit calling me Bessie, for fuck’s sake? That’s the name of a cow, or like a grandma.”

“A really hot grandma,” he says and alternates waggling his eyebrows.

My attention bounces back and forth between them. “Are the two of you? Uhm, is there a thing here?” Then my brow furrows in confusion. “But you asked me if he and I?”

Donovan props his elbows on the bar, and rests his head in his hands. “Please, continue. I’d love to hear how Bess asked you if we were doing the horizontal tango.”

She pops a hip and puts her hand on it. A sure sign something sassy is about to come out of her mouth. “No one talks like that.”

I raise my hand. My sleep deprived state making me punchy. “You pretty much always talk like that.”

“I might say boinking, porking, aggressive cuddling, boning, bumping uglies, feeding the kitty, humping, laying pipe, nailing—“ I put my hand over her mouth.

“We get it, Bess. Why did you ask me if Donovan and I were,” I flap my free hand around, “doing any of that?”

She mutters against my hand, and I drop it so she can actually answer me. “Because, sometimes, when neither of us are seeing anyone, Donovan asks me if I want to stay late to help clean up. Really, it’s just code for asking to bend me over the bar.”

“To be fair, I also want you to help me clean up,” he adds unhelpfully.

“What about don’t shit where you eat?” I ask.

“That advice is for nice girls like you. I rather enjoy ending the night with a bonus from the boss,” she winks.

“I would actually like to see you outside of the bar,” he says and rolls his eyes.

“And you will,” she begins, and he leans forward, excited. “When you walk me to my car,” she finishes.

“You’re a wicked woman,” he grumbles.

“A very bendy one,” she quips.

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