And by the slight shake of his head and self-deprecating smile he gives, I can only assume he’s about to say something that’s going to piss me off—hell, if I were in his shoes I would—and there’s no need for this to get nasty. For Blakely’s sake anyway.
I’ve more than made my point that she moved on to bigger and better and isn’t sitting at home pining away for him while he should be nailing down that new prenup. To mitigate any trouble, I turn my attention away from Paul and Barbie, who is still rubbing her hand up and down Paul’s arm, and smile at Blakely. Shock still paints her expression but amusement shines in her eyes.
“Were you just coming from work?” I ask and throw a thumb over my shoulder in a random direction.
“You work?” Barbie asks as if it’s a crime.
“Yep. My baby’s a big wig over at Glam.”
“Oh my god,” Barbie says, each word overemphasized. “Paul didn’t tell me you worked for Glam! My best friend, the one I tell all my secrets to”—she nudges Paul as if he has a clue who she’s talking about—”she works for Glam too!” She claps like a little kid, almost giddy with excitement as she all but bounces on her toes.
“What a small world. You probably know her,” I say to Blakely.
“I’m sure you do. I think she’s a big deal there too . . . but probably not any bigger than you,” Barbie reaches out and pats Blakely’s arm as if they are best friends. “Her name is Heather. Heather Mendell.”
And I see every part of Blakely’s face fall. Every muscle freezes one by one.
“Oh.” The way she chokes over the single syllable tells me Heather Mendell is the person Blakely was bitching about in the bar. Her boss.
“Heather?” I let my brow furrow and play the part. I press a kiss to Blakely’s bare shoulder, my own way of falsely marking my territory to Paul, and look at her. “This wouldn’t happen to be the same Heather who”—her eyes widen in fear—“is your new boss? The one you’re so excited about?”
Relief flickers in those green eyes of hers, but her smile is so fragile it might break. “Yes.” She clears her throat. “That’s her.”
“What a small world.” Barbie clasps her hands in front of her mouth. That behemoth diamond sparkling. “Isn’t this crazy, Paul? It’s, like, fate that we all know each other. Some kind of cosmic intervention pulling us together.”
“Something like that,” Blakely mutters just as Barbie lets out a cry that startles us all.
“The mountains! I just put it together now. You two are going on the retreat then with Glam. Heather’s retreat. It’s all she’s been talking about. So many fun things planned. How exciting.” She squeals again in excitement. “I can’t wait to tell her I met you and to hear about all of the bestie bonding you guys do on that trip.”
“Kumbaya,” Blakely says with sarcasm dripping from her words.
I smile, but I can tell Blakely has met her bandwidth in this conversation. “It was a pleasure meeting you, but we have reservations over at Metta’s”—I glance at my watch—“five minutes ago.”
“Get out!” Barbie holds her hand out. “That’s where we were heading too!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Blakely mutters as I slide my hand down to fit in hers and squeeze.
“Then we’ll see you over there,” I say and nod to Paul before directing Blakely toward the restaurant. “Just walk,” I murmur. “I bet you twenty bucks they’re watching us.”
And we do. We walk hand in hand like a loving couple that is excited for a night out, but I can feel her finally realizing what just happened. It’s the clamminess of her hands. The hitch of her breath. The million questions she probably wants to ask but is trying to figure out the answers to first.
The minute we turn the corner out of their sights, she yanks her hand from mine and whirls to face me.
“What the hell was that?” she demands, those emerald eyes of hers are wide and glimmer in the shade of the building.
“That was me being out running a couple of errands before heading to meet up with my cousin for drinks when, lo and behold, I looked up and there you were—the woman from the bar, who slipped me someone else’s card instead of telling me she wasn’t interested.”
“I never said that.”
Ha. Good to know.
“Your actions spoke louder. You left.”
“It’s a long story.” The words stutter out.
“We have time.” I lift my eyebrows and lean against the wall at my back.
“That isn’t what I’m talking—this—right there—back there—that’s what I mean.” She stumbles over the words as her cheeks flush red. At least I know I wasn’t crazy. The interest was mutual. Why can’t she just admit to it?
“What about it?” I ask as casual as can be. I thought she was sexy when she was calm and collected the other night, but hell, she’s even sexier when she’s flustered and pissed.
Blakely looks back toward where we just came from and then to me. “Are you insane? You just walked up and kissed me and acted as if—”
“I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you for saving my ass, Slade.’”
“Saving my ass?” she sputters.
Definitely sexy.
“Yeah. From Replacement Barbie and your ex.” I glance toward the small crowd that is starting to gather outside of Metta’s and lift my chin toward them. “We should go so we can get a table before they do. They don’t take reservations, not even for tables at the bar.”
“You just told them that we had one.”
“Had to think on my feet.” My smile deepens. “A quick drink? We can cement your relationship status since we’ll be in such close quarters with them.”
“Wh-wh-what are you talking about?” she asks, her voice as scattered as her eyes moving back and forth between Metta’s, me, and the direction we just came from. A woman used to being in
