Stay With Me Read Online Free Page B

self-deprecating smile.
    I didn’t deny it. “Maybe she’s just a ho.”
    “Aren’t you supposed to be neutral?”
    “That’s Switzerland, dear. This is America, and we take sides.”
    He smiled. “So you’re on my side, then?”
    And your back, and your front. I forced my dirty mind back to reality. “I’m on whoever’s side is paying me.”
    “Well, that would be me,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake.
    I mock-squealed like a Miss America pageant winner instead. “So I’ve got the job?”
    He laughed and shook his head. “Against my better judgment.” He checked his watch and did a double take. “Damn, it’s been an hour. I’ve got to get going, and your friend is probably filling out a missing persons report.”
    “Drew?” I shrugged. “Bastard is probably so into his homemade sauce, he doesn’t even realize I’m gone.”
    “You want me to give you a lift?”
    “I’m good,” I said, not wanting to be in his gorgeous proximity a moment longer. “I’m pretty sure biting a client’s neck is a horrible way to begin a working relationship.” Oh shit. “Good Lord, did I just say that out loud?”
    From the looks of his red, stunned face, I did.
    “You want to bite my neck?” he repeated slowly.
    I want you to fuck my ass, actually. Long and slow. Bent over a countertop somewhere. I told my raging hormones to calm down before I lost a potential job. “Kidding, Jordan. Kidding.”
    “Right. The sarcasm thing, right?”
    I nodded, a sanguine look on my face.
    “Are you going to be all right?” He paused at the door, giving me an unreadable look.
    “Perfect,” I said and then winced. Asinine. I had a bad habit of using the word “perfect” when things were anything but. I waved him off. I felt a pang that I probably wouldn’t see him for a while, and that was ridiculous.
    After he disappeared, I left a message for Drew that went a little something like this: “Hey, you bitch, I know you went home without me. How the hell am I supposed to get home? See you tomorrow.” I added one more bitch for good measure and hung up.
    The older woman at the table next to mine was using all the peripheral vision she could muster to spy on me, and I sipped my coffee with an innocent look. “What?” I asked, facing her full on. “He knows he’s a bitch.”
    She glared.
    After I had prolonged my coffee as long as I could, I began the long walk back through Riverwalk, determined to call Drew until he answered. On second thought, because I knew him very well, I decided to head to the bus stop just in case. I walked to the bus stop, feeling the stretch and pull of the muscles of my knee. Oh, I was going to pay for this tomorrow. Hell, I was paying for it now. I sank down on the bus stop bench gratefully, wondering if it was lazy to call a taxi to pick you up from a bus.
    I dug out my pack of cigs and a lighter from my pocket and finally lit my one of the day. My so-called family and friends had whittled my one pleasure in life down to a single moment of a twenty-four-hour day, one single moment to fill my damaged lungs with delicious cloudy air and let it out on a single breath. I did so immediately, almost feeling close to orgasm for waiting so fucking long. It was just as well that I was close to quitting. God knows you can’t smoke anywhere anymore.
    I eyed the police cruiser that slowed down next to my bench before the window lowered.
    “Put that goddamn cancer stick out,” the officer said.
    I shook my head, letting it hang out of the side of my mouth as I gave him the one-finger salute. “Fuck you, Five-O.”
    “You’re not getting in my car with that thing,” he insisted. “Disgusting, filthy habit. Put it out.”
    Lord, I’d heard it all before. “I just lit the freaking thing.”
    “You want a ride? You put it out now.”
    “It’s my one of the day,” I whined. The no-nonsense expression on his usually joking face finally made me stub it out on the curb.