Page 2 of Finding Their Place

At least the jerk gave me a reprieve from those orbs that seemed to peer right through me.

“Tell me about your day,” he said while shifting his ass to get comfortable along the couch to my left, flexing his damn abs in the process.

I took a gulp of my wine to swallow down the drool he set into motion.

Why did he have to be gay?

Why?

Garrett Moore was as far from a narcissistic prick as possible, and that was all I’d been able to find on hookup and dating apps for almost over a year. He never rolled on about himself, his shit, and his accomplishments, and instead, he asked me about my day. My feelings.

My wants and desires.

Shit, if he knew the truth of those final two, I doubted we would have such a comfortable friendship that was perfectly platonic. If only my insides agreed with what he and the rest of the world saw.

Straight woman, gay man—best of friends.

I sighed and focused on the words scrolling across the bottom of the news station I had muted. The top story had prompted my call to Lily.

Abraham Quell had gotten what he deserved according to the law. Life in prison. The fucker should have been tied up with his dick sliced off and tongue ripped out for the shit he’d done at the cult’s compound in the sticks of New Hampshire where Blaine, one of Lily’s lovers, had grown up.

Child abuse. Rape. Murder.

And the list went on.

Blaine hadn’t needed to testify in witness against Quell, but he’d gone back east to support his sister who’d kept her chin up and eyes flashing while sharing her story on the stand broadcasted over the world. Lily and Greyson had sandwiched Blaine in their courtroom seats, a gorgeous, supportive triad that filled me with jealousy.

Couldn’t I just find one decent guy?

“Day, Hal.” Garrett shoved his right hand beneath my thigh, giving me a little squeeze closer to the back of my knee while sliding his pop to his other cheek. The candy clacked on his teeth during the move. “Tell me.”

Clutching the stem of my wine glass, I rested it lightly on his abs, which contracted.

Of course.

More drool erupted, another swallow bobbed my throat, and I tore my gaze off his torso.

I needed dick.

Badly.

“The clothing order that was supposed to be delivered yesterday didn’t come in today either. Gretchen gave me shit about all my extra hours last week—even though she demanded I stay to cover for her—and the new employee I finally talked her into hiring was a no-show. She didn’t answer her phone either. So, guess who ended up working two hours past her quitting time again today because daddy’s spoiled princess had a dentist appointment?”

Garrett made an apologetic noise of sorry in his throat, his thumb rubbing the back of my thigh. I ignored the goosebumps skittering down to my ankle.

Gretchen came from money. Lots of it—old Hollywood cash her father handed over like…well, candy. She’d opened her upscale boutique which barely made it out of the red every month thanks to her bad business sense.

She spent more than she could afford on the store, that was for damned sure. The woman didn’t deserve what she had. Didn’t work for it…just demanded her employees slave away without proper compensation or showing us appreciation.

But I kept my mouth shut because I was lucky to have such a job. GED, no college to speak of, a resume hardly worth looking at…yeah, I plastered on a plastic smile and dealt with the bitch who had everything.

“Then, while I’m driving home,” I continued since I knew he’d want every last detail as always, “I pass that new boutique down on Vine Street that just might put us out of business, and who do I see, but Gretchen and her two besties walking out with bags on their arms!”

“Lying bitch.”

I grunted an agreement. “Toxic Twat.” I tacked on the nickname I’d given her years earlier.

Trigger after trigger hit me daily with that goddamn woman. If I didn’t need my job at Pieces to provide for my ass, I would have left years earlier. But without a good education, I couldn’t do much beyond working for minimum wage.

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