Page 31 of Average Joe

I nodded. Crossed my arms. “There a problem?”

“Yeah. You have no clothes on.”

Ouch. I’d dreaded this encounter.

I refused to be shamed by anyone, but especially Joe, for reasons I was not ready to analyze. “You don’t like what you see, you can leave.”

“Why the hell are you working in a place like this?”

“Why the hell you buying coffee in a place like this?” I countered.

His head snapped back. I wasn’t finished.

Leaning closer, I warned, “Don’t you dare judge. I make an honest living. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.” Low blow, true, but apparently, wounded me had no scruples.

“You’re naked.”

Dear God, his voice was daunting and rumbly like his chopper. Dark and gritty like my temper.

“My naughty bits are covered,” I shot back.

“Not enough.”

Irritating prick. “Do you want coffee or not?”

“I want you to put on a sweatshirt or something so I can think straight.”

“Listen, I’ve got work to do. Don’t have time for your caveman bullshit. Order a drink or leave.”

Joe’s hands curled into fists on his thighs. His chest rose and fell. “Did Alice know about this?”

Alice had hated my career choice, but she also drove through the stand every time I worked a late shift and ordered coffee she never drank. She’d told me once that she liked to support local businesses, but I knew she was merely checking up on me. Our south Seattle neighborhood was small, but crime had been on a steady rise over the past five years.

But my relationship with Alice was none of Joe’s business. And screw him for bringing her into our convo.

“Your aunt supported everything I did and sure as hell didn’t make me feel like shit about my job. Too bad you weren’t around long enough for her manners to rub off.”

Joe mumbled something under his breath, then kicked the stand on his bike, fired her up, and raced out of the lot, dramatically blowing me off.

Joe

“Blowing off steam?” Frank stepped between me and the mirror, breaking my concentration.

“You have no idea,” I grumbled. The vision of Marley ninety percent naked was still fresh in my mind. No amount of bicep curls or miles logged on the treadmill was wearing that image down. I breathed through two more reps and lowered the dumbbells to my sides.

My rage was unjustified. Marley wasn’t mine to shelter or protect, but men ogled her body daily, and I wanted nothing less than to gouge their eyeballs from their sockets.

“Need to get laid?” Frank interrupted my dangerous introspection. “Cyn’s got a few single friends who would be more than—”

“Jesus. No!” I racked my weights. “Don’t need help in that department.” Only one woman I wanted my hands on. Me and every fucker she serviced, I suspected.

I needed to cool my shit.

Before Frank could argue all the reasons I needed a woman in my life, I scolded him. “You’re twenty minutes late.”

“Traffic.” He smacked his gum, shrugging his shoulders, and followed me to the bench press. “You find anything yet?

“Not a damn thing.”

---