Page 23 of Shameless With Him

However, that meant that I had to deal with the old boss’s bullshit, and the fact that we had lost three-quarters of our crew over the past two years. We were getting better. Slowly. At least, I hoped so.

“Sounds good. Hey, are you feeling okay? You’re looking a little pale.”

Bobby didn’t know I was sick. Nobody did. Oh, my siblings had probably figured out that something was wrong, but they didn’t know that I felt like I was dying. Not that I was. Because I wasn’t. There was no discernible evidence that I was. Just because my brain was on the fritz didn’t mean it was the end of everything.

“Think I probably just need to eat.”

“Did you skip lunch again?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah,” I said, not exactly a lie. My stomach hadn’t been able to handle food during lunch, and that meant I hadn’t eaten. That probably hadn’t helped the headache, but I couldn’t go back now and eat lunch.

“You should go eat something, man. Your brain’s amazing, but you can’t get work done if you’re hungry.”

“True. I’m almost done anyway, and then I’m going to head out.”

“Sounds good. But can you, you know, help me with this one thing first?”

I grinned and nodded. I’d figured Bobby was in my doorway because he needed help. He usually did. I didn’t really think the guy was going to last long here, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and even though Bobby was slow on the uptake with some things, he was dedicated. And, hell, the company needed dedication. That meant I was going to help Bobby as much as I could because I didn’t want the company to fail. And neither did our competition since they were good guys, too. Even though, sometimes, I really wanted to work for them rather than where I was.

I helped Bobby with his work and went back to my own, ignoring the throbbing in my temples. It would go away soon. It wasn’t a full-on migraine, and I wasn’t having hallucinations—not like that one time. It was just a little headache.

My phone buzzed. Thankfully, it didn’t echo in my head. That was progress. Last time I had gotten a text, I’d thought that someone was smacking me upside the head with my phone.

I looked down, and my dick got hard. Great, apparently, just her name did that to me these days. It hadn’t always been the case, but ever since I’d moved back to town, it had been harder and harder to keep her safely in the just-friends part of my mind.

Zoey:Hey, I need some info from you for Lacey. Got a sec?

Me:What do you need?

That was a loaded question if I ever heard one, and I wasn’t going to go there. Zoey was nice. Sweet. And not for me.

Zoey:Lacey needs to know more about the bachelor party.

I frowned, worried that Lacey was keeping tabs on her fiancé. Not that I had any right to be defensive, but I couldn’t help it.

Me:Isn’t that John’s deal?

Zoey:Yes, but she wants the details so she can put it in her notebook. Plus, there’s a few more questions about a boutonniere? Not a hundred percent sure, even though I am doing the flowers. When do you have time to talk?

My stomach growled, but my head started to feel better. That was a good sign. Why not make a possible mistake?

Me: Tonight? Let’s talk over dinner.

There was such a long pause, I was afraid I’d actually made a mistake. A big one.

Zoey:Dinner?

Me:You know, the thing that you eat, usually in the evening. I was thinking steak, but we can go for fish. Or sushi. Or something.

Zoey:Sushi is fish.

I grinned. She made me smile more than anyone. Even my family. I’d never really put that together before. Huh.

Me:When I think fish, I think of like cod or halibut. Sushi is sushi.

Zoey:That makes no sense.

Me:Probably not, but now I’m hungry. Dinner?

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