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“That sounds an awful lot like. . .” How did I say this without labeling us?
“Dating? I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re doing, Charlee.”
“I know. I just mean it sounds like serious dating.”
“When two people say they love each other and just fucked like we did—”
“Lucas!”
He rolled his eyes. The guy seriously didn’t care about what anyone thought. Thankfully, no one had seemed to hear him.
“Anyway.” I cocked my head to the side and mock frowned. “I would say we’re venturing into the realm of serious dating. Yeah?”
He pulled me into him. “Yeah. So, what d’you think? Come back inside. Spend the night. Maybe the weekend?”
“The weekend, huh?”
“If you want. I have a pretty busy Saturday and was thinking. . . maybe if you have a few minutes you can help with a design or two. I have two women coming in looking for fine line work, very feminine stuff.”
“Ahh, and just because I’m the girl, I should design the girl stuff?’
He slapped my ass.
“What was that for?”
“No good reason except I felt like it. Want you to get used to me slapping that sweet ass of yours every opportunity I can get.”
“Even in public?”
“Especially in public.”
I laughed. “Anyway—” I was about to tell him that I’d love to help with some of the designs, mention that I’d been tooling around a bit on the side, when one of the assistant managers at Lakeside walked by.
“Charlee,” he said. The man was a few years older than me, but he looked like was he was sixty. The haircut didn’t help. “I saw you guys in there,” he said to us. “Great voice, man,” he said to Lucas.
I introduced the two men and was about to take Lucas up on his offer when suddenly it was like a bucket of ice water was tossed onto my face.
“Out celebrating the big promotion?” Though he didn’t say it with any malice or jealousy that I could tell, the bottom line was Lucas now wanted to know what the hell was going on.
“Charlee?” he asked immediately.
“Why don’t we head back inside?” I asked, pretending to laugh off the suggestion that I was out celebrating.
“Or not,” Lucas said, stubborn and suspicious as ever. He refused to budge.
“Hey, good seeing you out and about. Nice to meet you, Lucas.” And with that, my father’s employee walked away, not realizing the shit storm he’d just created.
“Promotion?”
Fuck.
Fuckitity, fuck, fuck.
“Let’s go in—”
“Tell me,” he said. And suddenly, I didn’t like the demanding tone. In the bedroom was one thing, but otherwise. . .
“I’m not a fan of your tone right now,” I said as fewer and fewer people came out of the bar next door.
