Page 67 of Spike

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Trixie

Wednesday morning, Idrove down to Devlin’s shop,ridiculously early for my interview. I had just parked my car when my phonerang. Seeing it was Spike, I answered. “Hey, honey.”

“Jesus, I don’tknow what I like better.”

“What do youmean?”

“You callin’ meJesse or honey.”

“Really?” Ismiled. “How do you feel about pookie bear?”

“Let’s put a pinin that one.”

“Kinky.”

He chuckled. “Youready for your meeting?”

“Not at all,” Ibreathed out. “I’m already here, which just proves how much of a nerd I am.”

“Baby, you’regonna do great. Why are you so nervous?”

“Because I’m thissheltered pastor’s kid and y’all are these larger than life, seen and donealmost everything, cool as heck—” I sighed. “I don’t even know what I’msaying.”

“I get it, baby,but you’re cool, too, you know.”

I dropped my headto the steering wheel. “No I’m not. I’m an anxiety ridden, insecure, andoverweight woman who constantly questions her decisions, especially when she’sabout to walk into a tattoo shop and interview for ajob.”

A knock at my carwindow elicited a quiet squeak from me and I whipped my head up to see Spikeleaning in with a frown.

I rolled thewindow down and hissed, “You scared me to death.”

“If you callyourself overweight one more fuckin’ time, I’m gonna lose my shit, woman. Gotit?” He pulled open my door so he could get face-to-face with me. “You arebeautiful and perfect and sexy. Not to mention, compassionate, generous, and,honestly, the kindest person I’ve ever met. Take it from the guy who fantasizedabout you for years, you’re even better in real life.”

I grabbed his faceand kissed him, desperately wanting to take him somewhere private. It was himwho broke the connection, dropping his forehead to mine before unbuckling myseatbelt and stepping back. “Jesus.”

“Sorry.” Igrimaced. “I didn’t expect that to be so… intense.”

He raised aneyebrow. “Baby, you’ve kissed me before, it’s always intense.”

I sighed. “Pointtaken.”

He chuckled. “Comeon, I’ll walk you in.”

“Ah, no, youwon’t.”

“Why not?”

I grabbed my purseand stepped out of my car, rolling up my window before closing my door.“Because my boyfriend is not babysitting me during my interview.”

“I’m notbabysitting you. I happen to be working here today.”

I cocked my head.“And did you work your schedule around my interview so you could be here incase I needed emotional support?”

He studied me fora few seconds before muttering, “I plead the fifth.”

“Do not walk inwith me”—I tugged on his jacket—“And I don’t want to see you until I text youand tell you I’m done with the interview. Then we’ll meet outside and maybe youcan walk me back to my car. Got it?”

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