some lemonade. “You guys are easy compared to most of my clients.”
“This is so fucked up,” Cooper said. “No offense, but it’s not like we’re out of control.”
A knock on the door got Ben on his feet and racing to open it.
Slater chewed, swallowed, then drank some lemonade. “It’s not bad.”
“I like it.” Emmie looked at Derek and Cooper. “You should try it.”
Neither said a word.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Ben came back to the table with two boxes of pizza.
“Pizza’s here,” Cooper shouted toward the bedroom.
Pete came out, headed into the kitchen, and grabbed some beers. He slammed them down on the table.
Tension filled the room. Emmie looked uncomfortable, like she needed to do something. But there was nothing she—or anyone—could do. It took time. Violet wasn’t worried. She watched as the guys tore open the pizza boxes, twisted the caps off the beers, and dug into their dinner.
“Are you as cool inside as you look on the outside?” Derek reached for a slice of pizza. “Because nothing seems to faze you. Not even Pete’s stanky dreads.”
Emmie nearly snorted lemonade out her nose. Everyone laughed.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Pete said. “I like it, and the chicks love it. And it’s a hell of a lot better than what I used to have, right, Em?”
Violet noticed the look of affection in Pete’s gaze as he regarded Emmie. A pang of envy struck her—these guys were so tight. No matter their troubles, they really liked each other. They were better than a family because they’d
chosen
each other.
She looked at Derek, laughing at something Coopersaid. That night in the bowling alley? She’d wanted so badly to let him in. Feel the stroke of his tongue in her mouth. Have him pour that energy, that
passion
into her. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have his possessive hands all over her body.
God, she’d bet he would just consume her. Nothing hesitant or careful—he’d just take what he wanted from her body.
Yes.
A tremor of excitement rippled down her spine, and the shock to her chest made her sit forward.
She had to stop thinking about him this way. He was a
client
.
Look at her getting carried away with things she couldn’t have. Getting attached to Derek, this band? They saw her as an intruder, someone forced upon them. And as soon as they could be rid of her, they’d gladly see her gone.
“That’s some nasty shit.” Pete flicked a spoonful of quinoa across the table, nailing Cooper in the chest.
“Hey, asswipe.” Laughing, Cooper got up and grabbed the spoon out of his hand, ready to scoop out his own ammo.
Before he could, Derek rose. “Knock it off.”
Eyes practically bulging out of his head, veins and tendons popping from his neck, Pete grabbed a handful of quinoa and hurled it at Derek.
He ducked, and the mess splattered on the carpet. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
Derek shot Violet an apologetic look, but she made sure not to reveal any emotion. She didn’t care if they didn’t like the dish, but Pete’s behavior—his agitation—led her to believe he was deeper into his addiction than anyone thought.
“What’s the
matter
?” Pete shoved back from the table, headed into the kitchen. “
She’s
the matter. This whole fucking thing is bullshit.” He grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and came back to the table. Popping the cap, he overturned it into the casserole. “I’m not eating this shit, and I don’t want to fucking bowl. I want to rock, and I want to rock hard.”
“Sit down, Pete.” Slater had a hard look in his eye.
She couldn’t be the only one to notice his jittery, anxious behavior. Or his dilated pupils.
“I don’t want to sit down. I should still be sleepingbecause it’s not even noon.” He shot Ben and Cooper a challenging look. “And don’t pretend you don’t agree with me. You’re not on board with this crap any more than I am.”
Derek slammed his glass
“This is so fucked up,” Cooper said. “No offense, but it’s not like we’re out of control.”
A knock on the door got Ben on his feet and racing to open it.
Slater chewed, swallowed, then drank some lemonade. “It’s not bad.”
“I like it.” Emmie looked at Derek and Cooper. “You should try it.”
Neither said a word.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Ben came back to the table with two boxes of pizza.
“Pizza’s here,” Cooper shouted toward the bedroom.
Pete came out, headed into the kitchen, and grabbed some beers. He slammed them down on the table.
Tension filled the room. Emmie looked uncomfortable, like she needed to do something. But there was nothing she—or anyone—could do. It took time. Violet wasn’t worried. She watched as the guys tore open the pizza boxes, twisted the caps off the beers, and dug into their dinner.
“Are you as cool inside as you look on the outside?” Derek reached for a slice of pizza. “Because nothing seems to faze you. Not even Pete’s stanky dreads.”
Emmie nearly snorted lemonade out her nose. Everyone laughed.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Pete said. “I like it, and the chicks love it. And it’s a hell of a lot better than what I used to have, right, Em?”
Violet noticed the look of affection in Pete’s gaze as he regarded Emmie. A pang of envy struck her—these guys were so tight. No matter their troubles, they really liked each other. They were better than a family because they’d
chosen
each other.
She looked at Derek, laughing at something Coopersaid. That night in the bowling alley? She’d wanted so badly to let him in. Feel the stroke of his tongue in her mouth. Have him pour that energy, that
passion
into her. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have his possessive hands all over her body.
God, she’d bet he would just consume her. Nothing hesitant or careful—he’d just take what he wanted from her body.
Yes.
A tremor of excitement rippled down her spine, and the shock to her chest made her sit forward.
She had to stop thinking about him this way. He was a
client
.
Look at her getting carried away with things she couldn’t have. Getting attached to Derek, this band? They saw her as an intruder, someone forced upon them. And as soon as they could be rid of her, they’d gladly see her gone.
“That’s some nasty shit.” Pete flicked a spoonful of quinoa across the table, nailing Cooper in the chest.
“Hey, asswipe.” Laughing, Cooper got up and grabbed the spoon out of his hand, ready to scoop out his own ammo.
Before he could, Derek rose. “Knock it off.”
Eyes practically bulging out of his head, veins and tendons popping from his neck, Pete grabbed a handful of quinoa and hurled it at Derek.
He ducked, and the mess splattered on the carpet. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
Derek shot Violet an apologetic look, but she made sure not to reveal any emotion. She didn’t care if they didn’t like the dish, but Pete’s behavior—his agitation—led her to believe he was deeper into his addiction than anyone thought.
“What’s the
matter
?” Pete shoved back from the table, headed into the kitchen. “
She’s
the matter. This whole fucking thing is bullshit.” He grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and came back to the table. Popping the cap, he overturned it into the casserole. “I’m not eating this shit, and I don’t want to fucking bowl. I want to rock, and I want to rock hard.”
“Sit down, Pete.” Slater had a hard look in his eye.
She couldn’t be the only one to notice his jittery, anxious behavior. Or his dilated pupils.
“I don’t want to sit down. I should still be sleepingbecause it’s not even noon.” He shot Ben and Cooper a challenging look. “And don’t pretend you don’t agree with me. You’re not on board with this crap any more than I am.”
Derek slammed his glass
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