He arches a brow. "I don't see the problem."
"Exactly." She looks to me. "You want to explain this to him?"
"Not even a little," I say.
He motions to his empty suite—the client is halfway to the bathroom. "This is going long."
"It's fine. I'm beat. I'm gonna head home." I take a long sip. It's only okay coffee, but it tastes fucking amazing. Everything feels brighter. Crisper. Better.
"Fuck that. It's biceps and back." He winks at Leighton as he flexes. "You can touch. It won't bite."
She rolls her eyes as she fake laughs. But she still ends in a smile. She enjoys Dean's stupidity.
"Next time." I take another sip. "I was up late."
"Fucking Iris?" he asks.
"We were talking."
He tilts his head to one side. "Talking?"
"Yeah. When you like a girl for more than what's between her legs—you know what? I don't want to ruin the surprise," I tease.
"I know what talking is." His eyes narrow. "So it's serious?"
"I guess."
"You gonna go see her?"
"Maybe. She was upset last night." I take another sip. I'm not dense. I get that Dean is concerned shit's going to change. But it's not. "I'm gonna call. Make sure she's okay."
Dean looks to Leighton. Raises a brow.
She shrugsdon't look at me.
"You know I'm right here," I say.
"Just find it fucking interesting you'll wait around for her, but you bail on our plans." Dean slides off the counter.
"She has great tits," I say.
"If I thought that was it, I wouldn't fucking care," Dean says.
Leighton clears her throat. Motions to Ryan working on a pretty girl's wrist tattoo—not that he's noticing the way she's looking at him.
He folds his arms over his chest. "This is a fucking inside voice."
"We have different definitions of inside voice." She plops on her stool. Taps her Converse together. "Your shop. Alienate your customers if you want."
"Thanks, I will," he says.
"If Ryan lectures me, I will fucking ruin you," she says.
"He'll lecture me," Dean says.
"He'll lecture all of us." She shakes her head. "You can admit you have feelings."
He looks to me. "She your girlfriend now or some shit?"