Page 4 of Double Delivery
Another question from one of the workers. When I turned back to face the road, the DRU truck had pulled back out onto the main street, and the ShipUS truck had stopped at a house for its delivery.
A shiver ran down my spine, despite the warmth of the day.
I shook off the sudden chill, pushed up my glasses, and returned my attention to the task at hand. There was a lot to do, and I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted.
Chapter 4 - Axel
Idangled my beer bottle over the bar top and glared at the soft shadow beneath it.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since my apartment last felt like home. Two weeks of getting jittery as soon as I stepped through the door, no matter how exhausted I was after work.
And I had no idea why.
I took a swig of my beer, set it down, braced my elbows on the bar, and hung my head.
Tripp’s scent washed over me before the stool scraping let me know he was taking a seat next to me.
“Are you following me, Slip?” I huffed.
“I could ask you the same, Asshole,” he replied. “I thought this was my spot.”
“Didn’t know we were calling dibs on bars.”
“I meant the stool. You normally sit on the other side.” There was a moment of silence, then, “You too?”
I blinked, my eyes following a series of divots in the copper bar top. “Me too, what?”
“Can’t rest at home,” he stated.
My head popped up and swiveled toward him. “What?”
His green eyes were trained on me. “I used to see you here maybe once a month, twice if you were with friends. Maybe you were here days I wasn’t. But…” He licked his lips. “Ever since that day with the moving truck on our route, I’ve felt like my place isn’t right anymore.”
“Maybe I just want to get out more,” I deadpanned.
He snorted. “I’d believe that if you were having fun. Sitting here like a sad sack doesn’t seem enjoyable though.”
“Fuck you, too,” I growled.
“Maybe that’s your problem,” he chuckled. “When was the last time you got laid?”
I turned back to my beer, grabbed it, and took another swig. “None of your business. How about you? When was the last time you knotted a pretty piece of ass?”
“I asked first.”
Two thunks caught my attention. I glanced up to see Tripp sliding a beer toward me.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Looked like you were getting low.”
I blinked. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“No prob,” he replied as he grabbed his beer and took a drink.
The clack of pool balls, clinking glasses, and raucous conversation surrounded us, but Tripp and I seemed to be in our own little bubble of misery.
“You thinking of moving?” I asked after several minutes.
