Page 63 of Brittle Heart

I nod, trying to be patient. I waited five years. I can wait a little longer.

We shift our focus to another case, allowing my mind to be occupied for a while.

A couple hours later, I’m so engrossed in my work at the lab table that I don’t even notice the guys entering the room until there’s a soft tap on my shoulder. I turn and peer up into Josh’s dark eyes.

“Hey, sorry but you didn’t hear me,” he says.

I glance around and see Clay and Sophia chatting at her desk in the back of the room.

“Are you going to join us for dinner again today?” Josh asks, redirecting my attention back to him.

“No, I think I’ll just finish this,” I reply, not wanting another incident like yesterday.

“Is it me?” He laughs, but his eyes carry a hint of hurt. “I ask you every day, and yet when Clay asked you once, you came?”

Shit, that sounds bad. “It’s really not you. He bribed me,” I tell him, hoping he understands.

“Hmm… I have nothing to bribe you with, but you know, I’m not opposed to kneeling in front of you,” he says, letting his finger trail down my forearm, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Images of him kneeling before me, with both of us wearing much less clothing, flood my mind, and I have to clear my throat before I can respond.

He’s just kidding. A guy like him would never want a girl like me.

“No need to kneel. I’ll come without you kneeling. I mean, I’ll come with you guys,” I blurt out, stumbling over my words, my face turning as red as a tomato.

His smirk transforms into a genuine smile, those damn dimples laughing at me.

I need to create some distance between us, so I walk over to my desk, remove my coat and gloves, and grab my backpack. Josh is already waiting by the door, and we’re joined by the others as we head out.

As we walk, Josh speaks quietly. “If you don’t want to go to the cafeteria because of Del Moro, I could talk to him. He’s a rookie and shouldn’t be bringing that kind of behavior to the workplace. He’s a fucking cop. He should be protecting people, not bullying them.”

My head turns sharply toward him. “No!” I blurt out, and he furrows his brows. I continue in a much softer voice, “Please don’t talk to him. I know from experience that involving other people will only make the situation worse. I can handle it on my own.”

He doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nods. “If you say so.”

We enter the cafeteria, and I stick by Sophia as she grabs herself a veggie sandwich. Then we head to the table that seems to be their usual spot and sit.

Clay sits next to me, placing two plates in front of us. I’m already getting angry, but he interrupts me before I can say anything. “Shh… calm down. It’s not from me, it’s from Xander,” he says. I glance down at the plate filled with potato hash, carrots, peas, and a chicken breast, noting Clay has the same food on his plate. “He told me to buy you dinner because he has a proposition for you,” Clay continues, smirking.

I’m hungry, and the food looks healthy, so no one can say the fat girl eats crap again. Plus, they didn’t say anything yesterday when I ate in front of them. I take a bite of the potato hash, which turns out to be super delicious.

“So, Xander wants to know what you’re doing tomorrow,” Clay begins as I continue eating.

“Why?” I ask, my tone laced with suspicion.

“He has a big back piece scheduled for tomorrow. Usually, he avoids scheduling major pieces on Saturdays since it’s the busiest day for calls and walk-ins. Normally, he pauses his work to handle clients, but with this particular piece, he’d rather not. He wants to know if you’re available to help him out, answering the phone and greeting walk-ins so he can focus on the client. In exchange, he’ll give you the premium tattoo cream,” Clay says.

“What time would he need me?” I ask.

“The shop is open from nine to five on Saturdays,” Clay states, returning his attention to his dinner.

I think about it. I have work in the evening and some studying, but I’m sure I can bring my laptop and study during the lulls when no one calls or walks in. I get that this is a cheap trick to get me my cream without just pushing it on me for free. But my tattoo is becoming itchier by the hour, and that cream would be a relief. Besides, as Clay said, if Xander needs to concentrate on his client, it’s not like he’ll be there by my side chatting for hours. And if he really needs some help, I can do this for him. After all, he came for me too.

“Sure, tell him I’ll be there at nine,” I say, focusing on my plate.

“Great! He’ll love that, kitten. You’re saving his ass,” Clay says.

“Kitten?” I glance at him.

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