Page 20 of Release Me

A group of women emerges through the back door, and the guys shift their focus off the topic of me and my dick to ogle them.

“How did David manage to land her?” Franco, another crew guy, asks, as we watch the blond who was at Sin with Ryan’s ex stroll out, a flowery lunch bag dangling from her fingers, sharing a secretive laugh with her friends as they take a nearby table.

And so it begins, the gossip, the speculation. These guys all know about it, which means Ryan would have heard about her ex by now. I wonder how she’s taking it.

After this morning’s shower stunt, I shouldn’t care, but I actually find myself replaying the exchange and chuckling. Good for her. Nothing wrong with a little spite fuel.

“I’d tap that.” Connor tips his head back to finish his can of Coke. He lets out a loud belch, earning frowns from their table. Of course, most of them melt away when they see who it’s coming from.

“How do you get away with that?” Franco gapes at Connor.

“Same way I get away with asking a girl if her friend canjoin.” Connor’s face splits into a wide grin, showing off his dimples. “I’m so damn irresistible.”

Another round of laughter erupts.

I’m reaching into my pocket for my Marlboros when the exterior door swings open and Ryan steps out, her brown paper bag in hand. Heads automatically turn. Her cheeks flush as she quickly seeks us out and begins walking over.

“She eats lunch with you?” I ask.

“Never, which means something must be seriously wrong.” Connor grabs the trash from the space between us, making room for her. “Baby sis! What a rare pleasure!”

“Shut up. I’m only three months younger than you.” She wipes the bench with a readied napkin before sitting down gingerly.

I shake my head.

“What? I just picked up my clothes from the dry cleaners.” Her gaze skims my dusty pants, telling me without words that she thinks I’m dirty. At least she doesn’t sneer.

The other guys have drifted off into their own conversations—which, thankfully, are too low for us to overhear because I’m sure they’d only prove Ryan’s theory that the crew is a bunch of STD-riddled cavemen.

Connor nudges her shoulder with his and asks softly, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing. I … needed to get out of there.” She quickly unpacks her lunch onto her lap. Yogurt, apple, grapes, and a cheese sandwich on thin dark bread that is probably healthy but is cosplaying as cardboard. I’ll bet her meals are as predictable as the sun setting each night.

Connor must be thinking the same thing. “Don’t you ever get sick of eating the same thingevery single day?”

“No.”

His baffled expression is comical. “But don’t you ever want to order a big, greasy burger?”

“No.” She glances at the messy remnants of his pizza sub. “Do you understand how bad it is for you? It’s full of fat and salt and preservatives.”

Connor lifts his shirt up and smooths his hand over his belly, as hard and sculpted as mine. “Does it look like it matters to me?”

She snorts. “You need to start eating better.”

“Fine.” He offers a one-shouldered shrug. “You cook and I’ll eat better.”

“As if. It’s bad enough I have to clean the bathroom afterhim.” She jerks her chin toward me.

“Well, you won’t have much to clean today, what with my two-minute cold shower and all,” I remind her dryly.

“You deserved that.”

I smirk. “Yeah. I did. You win.”

She falters. “Wow, conceding already.”

“What can I say?” I tap my chest. “I have no ambition, remember?”

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