Page 28 of Never Kiss and Tell

“You’re coming home with me,” I tell Bailey, who pauses in the middle of her task to look up at me with surprised eyes. Mani, a guy we hired last week, leans against the bar beside her, a little too close to my liking. I shoot a searing look at him and he nods, hurrying off toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, cowboy. Not happening.”

I steel myself, clenching my jaw on my crass remark.

“Andi can’t make it. I’m walking you home.”

Bailey straightens and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I think I would rather crawl home to California than spend ten minutes walking home with you.”

I catch the jab, but I don’t care.

“You want to walk home down Bourbon Street in the dark, by yourself, be my guest,” I snap, heading toward the kitchen door. I walk in the office where Dad is getting his things ready to go for the night.

“Long night, Dad?” I asked, worried about him. After his heart attack last year, I don’t want anything getting him worked up.

“Not as long as you had, I’m sure. Bailey did well, tonight. I’m glad she offered to stay and help.”

Here we go, again.I rub the back of my neck and lock the bank bag up in the safe, not answering him.

“You know, you don’t have to treat her like she’s the plague, son.”

“I’m not,” I argue quietly, locking the safe back tight.

Dad just chuckles. “Hard to believe she came all the way from California. Doesn’t seem like much of a Ram to me.”

Dad and his never-ending sports references.

“You need anything else? I have to walk her home. Andi had an emergency.”

Dad looks back at the camera.

“Really? Because she just left.”

“Goddammit,” I growl under my breath, swinging the office door open and following the trail of Bailey perfume outthe back door. She isn’t in the back courtyard and a bite of panic shoots up my spine. I exit through the employee gate and find her just starting off down the road toward home.

I catch up to her quickly, as she’s walking slowly, taking in the sights around her. I never really thought about how this place would look to her, coming from a place like Malibu.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, my stride falling in beside hers.

She jumps, her eyes growing wide with fear for a moment before masking over with the same blank, cold stare she always reserves for me.

“Walking down Bourbon Street in the dark, by myself.”

Touché.

“Don’t go running off by yourself out here. It’s dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a draw on the cigarette in her hand. My gaze instantly goes to her lips wrapped around the end and my cock twitches in my jeans. I have half a mind to rip the cigarette out of her hand and stomp it out.

“Would you make up your mind?” she grumbles. “You’re exhausting.”

I look at her, dumbfounded. “I’m exhausting? Have you met yourself?” I ask as we cross Dauphine Street. A group of loud teens passes us, probably on some kind of senior summer trip by themselves. I can see they’re drunk, belligerent, but, somehow, still walking.

“Charlie, honestly,” she starts, an air of defeat in her tone. “I’ve had a long night and I just want to go home. If you’re just going to be an ass, feel free to fuck off.”

I pause, watching her. She doesn’t seem to notice and keepswalking, her earlier good mood seemingly gone.

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