This means nothing . Apparently, to both of us.
Chapter 9
Dane
There is something very wrong with having the taste of woman on your lips while talking to another about why you missed a date. I can feel Scout withdrawing, and I hate myself for saying that—she is so much more than I'm saying, but what can I say? It's Mel, for Christ's sake. She doesn't want to hear that I blew off lunch because I was going down on my best friend's sister.
Especially after I assured her that there was nothing going on between us.
"Look, I'm sorry," I say, cutting Mel off mid-tirade. I get why she's angry, but I'm not cool with listening to anyone bitch incessantly. "Do you want me to come over or not?"
Mel hesitates for all of two seconds. She's so disgustingly predictable—one of the things I used to be attracted too, and now it just makes me want to bang my head against the nearest wall.
"Yeah. Come on over. I've got about thirty minutes before my next meeting."
I hang up and look at Scout. "I have to deal with this, Scout."
"You don't owe me explanations, Dane," she says, her tone chilly and remote. I want to tell her she's wrong—that after the past hour, I owe her a lot more than an explanation. I want to tell her that she doesn't have to be scared. But I can't. Because I do need to deal with Mel, and because I want whatever this is between me and Scout—I want it to be done right. Not in the deserted basement of her childhood home, with the specter of my girlfriend hanging between us.
I drop Scout off at the house and head for Mel. She's furious with me—they both are. I'm okay with that. I know what to do with angry women. I have a lot of experience with them.
It doesn't make what I'm about to do any easier.
Mel's office is in a small rental home that she's converted for her use. She runs a successful temp agency, placing people in positions as far as Baton Rouge. She's good at her job, and I like that she has one—she wouldn't have been an idle housewife.
Her assistant, Lane, grins at me when I step in, pointing toward the back room. "Boss lady is waiting for you."
I like Lane—and it's rare for me to like women I don't sleep with. But she's a good girl and completely loyal to Mel. Even if I had wanted to sleep with her, I don't think she would have done it.
I walk through the hall, past a little room with a pair of girls filling out the paperwork Mel will use to get them a job, and into the large room Mel uses as her personal office.
She's chewing on a pen top as she types into her computer, two notebooks in front of her and three cups of coffee on the desk. The girl really needs to lay off the coffee and pen caps. I clear my throat, and she blinks, flushing when she sees me. Drops the pen cap like a bad habit and smoothes a hand over her skirt as she stands up. "Don't," I say. "Keep working. It looked important."
"It'll wait. What's going on with Scout?" She asks, her eyes clear and friendly—like she's not asking about the girl I just had oral sex with.
Of course, she doesn't know I did.
"Why do you put up with my shit?" I ask, and she blinks. I watch the mask fall over her face, a bright, fake smile.
"What are you talking about?" she asks.
"Don't," I tell her, exhausted. "Don't act like you don't know."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about."
My temper slips. "I'm talking about the girls—the ones at Victorie and Speakeasy—the ones I fuck in the bathroom and in my bed. The twins from two weeks ago, and the girl who sucked my dick the week before that—the ones you know damn well are there, but you never say anything about. Why do you put up with it, Mel?"
Her expression is strained. "A lady doesn't talk about that, Dane."
"A lady doesn't let her boyfriend get away with the shit I put you through. I mean, do you really think you deserve it?"
"They don't mean anything," she says, looking down finally. "If they did, it would matter. But I’m the one you’re with—so why
Chapter 9
Dane
There is something very wrong with having the taste of woman on your lips while talking to another about why you missed a date. I can feel Scout withdrawing, and I hate myself for saying that—she is so much more than I'm saying, but what can I say? It's Mel, for Christ's sake. She doesn't want to hear that I blew off lunch because I was going down on my best friend's sister.
Especially after I assured her that there was nothing going on between us.
"Look, I'm sorry," I say, cutting Mel off mid-tirade. I get why she's angry, but I'm not cool with listening to anyone bitch incessantly. "Do you want me to come over or not?"
Mel hesitates for all of two seconds. She's so disgustingly predictable—one of the things I used to be attracted too, and now it just makes me want to bang my head against the nearest wall.
"Yeah. Come on over. I've got about thirty minutes before my next meeting."
I hang up and look at Scout. "I have to deal with this, Scout."
"You don't owe me explanations, Dane," she says, her tone chilly and remote. I want to tell her she's wrong—that after the past hour, I owe her a lot more than an explanation. I want to tell her that she doesn't have to be scared. But I can't. Because I do need to deal with Mel, and because I want whatever this is between me and Scout—I want it to be done right. Not in the deserted basement of her childhood home, with the specter of my girlfriend hanging between us.
I drop Scout off at the house and head for Mel. She's furious with me—they both are. I'm okay with that. I know what to do with angry women. I have a lot of experience with them.
It doesn't make what I'm about to do any easier.
Mel's office is in a small rental home that she's converted for her use. She runs a successful temp agency, placing people in positions as far as Baton Rouge. She's good at her job, and I like that she has one—she wouldn't have been an idle housewife.
Her assistant, Lane, grins at me when I step in, pointing toward the back room. "Boss lady is waiting for you."
I like Lane—and it's rare for me to like women I don't sleep with. But she's a good girl and completely loyal to Mel. Even if I had wanted to sleep with her, I don't think she would have done it.
I walk through the hall, past a little room with a pair of girls filling out the paperwork Mel will use to get them a job, and into the large room Mel uses as her personal office.
She's chewing on a pen top as she types into her computer, two notebooks in front of her and three cups of coffee on the desk. The girl really needs to lay off the coffee and pen caps. I clear my throat, and she blinks, flushing when she sees me. Drops the pen cap like a bad habit and smoothes a hand over her skirt as she stands up. "Don't," I say. "Keep working. It looked important."
"It'll wait. What's going on with Scout?" She asks, her eyes clear and friendly—like she's not asking about the girl I just had oral sex with.
Of course, she doesn't know I did.
"Why do you put up with my shit?" I ask, and she blinks. I watch the mask fall over her face, a bright, fake smile.
"What are you talking about?" she asks.
"Don't," I tell her, exhausted. "Don't act like you don't know."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about."
My temper slips. "I'm talking about the girls—the ones at Victorie and Speakeasy—the ones I fuck in the bathroom and in my bed. The twins from two weeks ago, and the girl who sucked my dick the week before that—the ones you know damn well are there, but you never say anything about. Why do you put up with it, Mel?"
Her expression is strained. "A lady doesn't talk about that, Dane."
"A lady doesn't let her boyfriend get away with the shit I put you through. I mean, do you really think you deserve it?"
"They don't mean anything," she says, looking down finally. "If they did, it would matter. But I’m the one you’re with—so why
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