Page 27 of Never Kiss and Tell

“And why would you think I would want to be friends with you?”

If it hurts her, she doesn’t show it.

“Well, I have a great sense of humor. I’m unmatched in SolitaireandI can make homemade bread — sort of. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with me?”

“I couldn’t care less about Solitaire. I can make bread myself and I haven’t heard a funny thing come out of your mouth yet.” That last part was a lie, but I refuse to give her even an inch to use against me.

“Wow, you can make homemade bread? And here I thought your mastery lied in the art of being a raging douche bag. Tell me, have you choked any puppies lately, Charlie?” she asks, batting her eyelashes like she’s innocent.

I find it disturbing how much I like when she argues with me. Sure, it pisses me off, but there’s something else there — something primal, like the urge to shut her up.

“Is that what you like? Choking?” I ask, my voice dipping lower. I can tell this time that I’ve gotten to her. Her cheeks flame and she tries to hide it by climbing down and tapping her butt out on the side of the building before tossing it in the smoker’s can.

“You know, you would be a lot hotter if you didn’t speak,” she smiles, patting me on the chest.

Before I know what I’m doing, I grab her hand as she’s walking away, forcing her to stumble into me. She lets out a small gasp, but she doesn’t try to fight me. Her eyes lock on mine, the humor suddenly gone and replaced with an unreadable look.

I search her face, looking for even the smallest hint that I have any effect on her. Her tongue darts out to coat her bottom lip and my dick swells in my jeans. I follow that movement, tempted to capture her lips and do the same.

For a brief moment, she’s that same girl who tried to comfort me after Mom died — bright eyes, deep heart. I could get lost in those eyes.

“I have to go back to work,” she says quietly, like she’s afraid she’ll spook me.

I release her like she’s burnt me. What the fuck am I doing?

Without a second glance, she hurries back inside, letting the door bang shut behind her. I watch after her, the smell of her perfume still lingering. I throw my cigarette at the wall and run a hand across the back of my neck.

“Fuck, I’m losing my mind.”

By the time the night is almost over, I’m sick of hearing Bailey’s name. Bailey this, Bailey that. You would think the girl drops pellets of gold everywhere she goes.

She laughs with every table she gets, jokes around with the cooks in the back while putting in orders, and most importantly, she avoids eye contact with me for the rest of the night.

It’s driving me fucking insane that I can’t get her out of my head. My eyes follow her involuntarily after we close for the night. She jokes with Marybeth as they roll silverwear for the next day while I busy myself closing down theregister at the bar.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I groan when I see Andi’s name on the screen.

Are you fucking kidding me? “What?”

“Can you walk Bailey home?”

Unease stirs inside me. That’s thelastthing I want to do.

“You aren’t picking her up?”

“No,” Andi snaps, harsher than usual. “I’m busy.”

I grit my teeth, banding all the money together and shoving it in the bank bag. I push the empty drawer closed and lock it up for the night. “And let me guess . . . you can’t take time out of your busy schedule to come get your friend?”

“Listen. I don’t feel like talking about it, but I’ve had a bad night. I’m waiting for Tom to get home right now.” Fucking Tom. To think his entire world rested in the hands of such a small woman is absurd to me. I look across the room and I catch Bailey’s eye. Her cheeks flame and she instantly looks away, but I see that look.

She doesn’t hate me as much as she would like to let on.

“Fine. Go,” I grumble, tossing a used rag into the can under the counter.

“Thanks, Charlie. I owe you one.”

Damn straight,I think as she hangs up the phone.

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