Page 62 of Garrison's Creed

“Nah,” Cash drawled. “This is way more fun. My turn. I know I’m a fardistant second to the job, but when she called you, what came first? Me or the ammo?”

“You.” Beth told the truth. She’d pay in some fashion.

“I knew it.” He winked at Nicola, and she made a valiant effort to suck down her entire drink.

“Look, you two.” Nicola needed to change the subject. “I’ll play Truth or Dare, I’ll get out the freakin’ Ouija Board, but I want to get Smooth out of the way.”

“All work and no play—” Cash started.

And Beth finished, “Makes Nicola Garrison a very boring girl.”

Cash smiled. Big.

Oh no.

Cash smiled from her to Beth and back again. She knew what was coming. “Did I mention I was Cash Garrison?”

Sichuan Mary shot out of Beth’s nose in a laugh and a cough and a choke. Her hands wrapped around her face, and the drink dribbled down her chin. She jumped—one would think to mop up the spillage—but nope. As soon as Beth looked able to ignore the peppery-vodka sting in her nose, she pointed at Nic, mouth hanging open. “Oh. My. God.” Then she pointed at Cash, then her again. “Garrison? Garrison. Garrison?”

Patrons at the tables around them watched, amused, and having no idea what the deal was. Rocco would’ve got it. Man, he was missing another great episode of My Fucked-up Life.

Cash handed Beth a pile of napkins. How gentlemanly of him. Nic would’ve rather he choked on his Warrior Whatever because now Beth would have way more questions than when they’d started. She’d put all the blame for that in Cash’s lap. It was easier to get mad and blame him than feel embarrassed about it.

Right…?

“Scandalous.” Beth slapped her Sichuan-Mary-covered napkins down, and a tipsy giggle bubbled up. “Tell me more. There’s got to be way more.”

“I’ll go tit-for-tat again.” Cash loved this. She’d get him later too.

Beth wiped her hands on a clean napkin and tried, failing, for a serious stare. “Now, this may be the Absolut talking, but I think you two are cute together. Cute. Very—”

“Got it, Beth.” Damn that vodka. P.F. Chang’s needed rolls or breadsticks. Nic needed to shove a pile of carbs down Beth’s throat to soak up some of the booze and maybe stifle her BFF’s brilliant analysis.

“Cute,” Beth continued, nodding her head up and down, on repeat. Where was a breadbasket when Nicola needed it?

“Did you know Nic has a very cute snore?” Cash asked.

Beth perched on the edge of her seat, clearly ready to get the juicy details. “Ten years ago or ten hours ago?”

Cash half-cocked a grin that flashed a dimple. “How much should we tell our good friend, Beth, Nicola?”

This was too much fun for both of them, and she wasn’t touching that conversation topic to save her ever-loving breath. “So about the ammo—”

Beth ignored her. “Are all you guys at Titan super-flippin’ hot? Cash. Roman. Jared.” She ticked names off on her fingers. “We’ve got nothing right now. No one interesting. Well, David’s interesting, but that’s another story.”

Man alive, the Sichuan Mary was courage in a glass. Nicola should have stolen Cash’s keys when he wasn’t looking and come alone.

Cash raised an eyebrow, laughing. “No comment.”

Beth and Nicola reached the bottom of their drinks with a slurp. As if the waiter had been watching, he arrived with fresh drinks the second they came up for air.

“You’d better not hold out on me.” Beth made a big show of switching her straw from one glass to the next, even though the new one already had a straw. “You’re running around with all those Hottie McHottersons, and I want some of that.”

Cash shrugged. “That could be arranged, I’m sure.”

“Yes.” Beth beamed, a third-drink-on-an-empty-stomach smile plastered on her face. “Thank you. Cash, I think I love you. You’re the man.”

Beth was throwing L-bombs and boosting his ego. Nic needed to catch the buzz train fast, or she was going to have to run to the bathroom and cry or scream or send a return-your-BFF-card-here text message.

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