by Meghan Quinn
“I think he gets it, Racer; you’re gay. You can go back to the bathroom,” I grit out, trying not to show how uncomfortable I am.
“Not a problem, boss lady.” He turns to leave and then quickly comes back and says, “Honk, honk,” while squeezing my left breast. “Didn’t want the old girl feeling left out. Nice seeing you again, Chaunce.” Racer blows a kiss at him from over his shoulder and takes off toward the bathroom.
Oh my God. I hate him so much.
“Sorry about that.” I turn to Chauncey who still looks unsure. “He gets a little crazy if he doesn’t have sugar every hour.”
Staring at the spot in the room where Racer was leaning against me, he recollects what he walked in on. “When I came in here, it didn’t seem like he was gay.” That’s because Racer is the furthest thing from gay, but Chauncey doesn’t need to know that.
“He was practicing a scene from a play he’s doing this summer. He has to play a straight man and wanted to see if he was convincing.” Okay, that slipped out of me way too easily.
“A play?” I nod my head but I don’t think Chauncey is buying it. “Georgiana, I don’t have time for games . . .”
“No, I’m not playing games,” I say quickly. “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Racer.” I move closer and reach for the flowers just as Racer shouts from the back.
“Hey, sugar tits, is that twinkie dick gone yet? I was hoping to get at least three quickies in before lunch.”
My nostrils flare, my skin flames red, and anger boils deep in the pit of my stomach.
I’M. GOING. TO. KILL. HIM.
“Nothing to worry about?” Chauncey shakes his head. “I don’t like to be dicked around, Georgiana.”
“I’m not, he’s just . . .” What is he? Being an ass? Trying to make my life a living hell?
“Pants are off,” he shouts some more. “The good-time pole is out, and I’ve got your favorite lube in the warmer. Come aboard the Racer Express, next stop Georgie’s wet vagina. Choo Choo!”
Murder. Murder is in my future. Limerence was a nice idea, but it looks like it will be prison time for me, unless I can insert him into a wood chipper without getting caught.
“I’m out.” Chauncey sets the flowers and bakery box on the floor and without a goodbye, takes off, slamming the shop door shut.
I stand there, my hands curling at my sides, steam billowing out of my ears, death threats going off in my head. There goes my date for Bitsy’s Ball; there goes my chance to possibly have a relationship with a good man—boring but good—and there goes my chance to show off a refined man to Bitsy.
Death.
Murder.
Imminent.
I spin on my heel and run right into a solid brick wall.
“Watch it there, Georgie. You almost gave yourself a black eye on my nipple.”
Steadying myself, I set my hands on his hips for a brief second before snapping them away and flicking him in the middle of the chest. He laughs, so I flick him again.
“Yikes. Hold off there, metal fingers, you might put a divot in my sternum.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You just ruined my chances with that man.”
Racer rubs his chest where I flicked him and stares at the bakery box behind me. “Pastries, yes!” What the hell? He ignores everything I just said and flips open the lid? “Fuck yes, bear claws.” He bites into one and talks with his mouthful. “Did you know it’s almond paste that’s in the middle of these things? Fuck, they’re so good. This one seems to have a hint of lemon. Want to try a bite?” He holds it out to me and before I can stop myself, I slap it out of his hand.
With a resounding plop, the bear claw has hit the floor.
Pastry down.
Man next.
Chapter Fourteen
RACER
Have you ever been there when a joke goes too far? You know the moment you should have pulled back but didn’t? The point when you’ve pushed the person past their limits and you’re staring down the barrel of a wrath of hell flying at you in waves.
That’s where I am right now.
But instead of a wrath, I’m about to have a front-row seat to a full-on conniption.
I’m just sorry my bear claw was caught in the middle of it all.
“I’m going to kill you.” With her arms aimed at my neck, Georgie charges after me, straight-up crazy in her eyes.
See what I’m talking about? Pushed the little tart way too far. Note to self: she chokes when she’s angry. Cripes!
I grip her wrists so she can’t strangle me and even though I’m holding her back, her fingers try to claw at me, wiggling at me, trying to inch forward.
Vicious.
“He wasn’t worth your time, Georgie. You can do better.” It’s true. That dude is most likely a two-pump chump with a Napoleon complex and bushy pubes. It’s the impression I got anyway. No way does a man named Chauncey shave his balls.
“Who are you to make that assessment?”
“Just looking out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me.” She starts pacing the room. “You have no idea what you just did.”
Drama much? Jeeze, I saved her a night of boring conversation. She should be thanking me.
“Calm down. There are many other fish in the sea.”
“I don’t care . . . ugh, it’s not about the relationship. It was about . . .” She pauses and grips her forehead. Damn, she really does look distraught. And here I thought I was really doing her a favor. Maybe I was wrong.
Once again the shop door opens and this time the visitors walking in aren’t for Georgie.
What are they doing here?
“Is it okay we come in?” Adalyn asks, followed by Emma, Tucker’s fiancée.
“What are you two doing here?” They smell of trouble.
Before they can answer, Georgie cuts them off. “I would appreciate it if your bimbos didn’t come visit you during your work hours. This is so unprofessional, Racer. I have the mind to fire you after everything you did this morning.”
Well, this took a nasty turn. I can usually smell it when I fucked up and boy does the air smell foul right now. A serious stank scent of fuckery.
“Maybe this isn’t a good time.” Adalyn starts to back up when I stop her.
“Give us a second.” I snag Georgie’s arm and pull her to the back of the shop where I pin her against the wall. She struggles, but I stop her. “Cut it out and stand still for a second,” I whisper.
“Get off me.”
“Georgiana,” I snap at her, which gets her attention. “Listen to me carefully. Those two women in the other room are my friends, not my bimbos, whatever the hell that means. One of them is getting married next year to my best friend, so if I were you, I would put on your professional pants because she could very well be your first client.” I have no idea if that’s the truth but anything to get this woman to calm down would be perfect right about now. “I know you’re pissed at me, but try to act like a professional for the next few minutes. In the long run, it might help you out.”
Straightening up, her face morphing from anger to somewhat pleasant, she pats down her shirt and whispers, “I still hate you.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”
I follow behind her as she makes her way back into the main space. With a smile plastered on her face she goes up to Adalyn and Emma and holds out her hand. “I’m so sorry about my comments earlier. Can you imagine Racer makes me blood-red mad to where I black out in anger?”
Damn, Pencil Dick was that important?
“Sounds about right,” Adalyn answers while shaking Georgie’s hand. “I’m Adalyn, and this is my friend, Emma. No need to apologize. What did he do this time?”
“Nothing.” I can’t defend myself, so I’ll just stay quiet.
Not buying it, Adalyn and Emma turn to Georgie. “Tell us everything.”
“Hey look at that, Georgie, it’s time to tile the bathroom
.” I say to the girls, “Thanks for stopping by, but you best be going now.”
“Oh, it must be really good if he’s trying to kick us out.” Adalyn rubs her hands together. “Tell us everything.”
Traitor!
Georgie smirks at me. I’m so not going to like this.I feel like they’re all twiddling their fingers ready to rag on me. I’m about to be thrown to the wolves and get a verbal beatdown by three women with a vendetta against me, and most likely my Little Debbie snacks.
Secretly I pray for them to leave Debbie out of this; she did nothing wrong.
“I’m really not in the business of throwing Racer under the bus.” Ah, there’s some loyalty. Thanks, Princess. “But then again, he did just ruin a huge opportunity for me.” Maybe not . . .
“What kind of opportunity?” Emma asks, giving me the stink-eye. God, she’s going to tell Tucker, and he’s going to give me shit. Perfect.
“Well, you see, in two weeks I need to attend this big weekend in the Hamptons. It’s where all the important people are going to be who I need to network with to get this shop up and running. The invite requires I take a date. I had planned to take this guy who would have been perfect, but Racer deliberately scared him away.”
Cue the light bulb. That’s why Georgie was so upset. Well, now I feel like an ass. BUT, if I had to be honest, Chauncey doesn’t deserve to go anywhere with Georgie. He’s a nitwit and she’s . . . hell, she’s something special.
“Why would you do that?” Adalyn walks up to me and smacks me in the back of the head.
“Ouch.” I rub the spot she hit me and scowl at her, but it makes no difference. “I was sparing her from a boring night. I didn’t know she had a weekend planned.”
“Doesn’t mean you should meddle in her business,” Emma adds.
“This coming from the person who tries to meddle in my personal affairs every chance she gets.”
Emma rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Sorry that I want you to find a girlfriend to keep you from man-crushing on my fiancé.”
“Ha, Tucker would be so lucky if I even glanced in his direction.”
“You’re absurd.” Adalyn asks Georgie, “So what are you going to do? Do you have to take a date?”
Georgie nods. “It’s required. And normally I wouldn’t really be into going, but so many influential people will be there, including Natalie Roman, and I have to try to get a one-on-one with her.”
Emma claps her hands. “Oh my God, her dresses are to die for!” Returning her fury back on me, Emma whacks me in the back of the head just like Adalyn. “Way to ruin everything.”
“I didn’t know.” Why am I bothering? One male against three women. Whatever I say isn’t going to get me anywhere.
“Take Racer,” Adalyn suggests with a wicked smile.
“No,” Georgie and I say in unison.
“I have a lot of work I have to do here, so I can’t afford to lose a weekend of work. I don’t know anything about tea and crumpets. I’d be a horrible choice.”
Adalyn scoffs at me. “You’re not meeting the queen, idiot, you’re just going to the Hamptons. You owe her this.”
“No, it’s really not a good idea.” Georgie shakes her head as if Adalyn’s suggestion is the craziest thing she’s ever heard. Not to be sensitive, but she could tone down the no. I wouldn’t be the WORST person to take. Close to it, but not the worst.
“Agreed. Not a good idea.”
“Do you have anyone else?” Adalyn asks, really trying to find a solution.
Georgie shakes her head. “I even thought about asking my brother, but that would be humiliating.”
“Oh, what about Smalls?” Emma suggests. “He would do it, I bet. He’s a good guy. Have you met him?”
“Aaron, right?”
“Yeah. Want me to ask him for you? He’s really chill, I’m sure—”
“No,” I grit out. Fucking Smalls; no way in hell is he doing it. Sending him off on a weekend getaway in the Hamptons with hot-as-fuck Georgie? Yeah, no thank you. I might not be able to have her but to hell if I’m going to let my friend get a shot.
What’s that?
I might not be able to have her . . .
I’m acting like some controlling alpha male?
Yup. Nailed it.
“You don’t get a say in this,” Adalyn says, dismissing me. She pulls out her phone. “I’ll give him a call right now.”
She barely makes it past the home screen on her phone before I yank it out of her hand and pocket it. “Smalls isn’t an option.”
“And why not?” Emma puts her hand on her hip. Just from the look on her face I know I’ll be hearing from Tucker later. Fucking fantastic.
“Because . . .” I swallow hard and take the hit. “I’m going.” The loss of money is going to hurt me but honestly, how much more can I really lose at this point?
“You’re not going,” Georgie says.
“Like hell I’m not. I already have my outfits picked out in my mind. How do you feel about hockey jerseys and pants with hamburgers on them?”
“You have got to be kidding me. You’re not going. I can find someone else.”
“Hate to point out the obvious,” Adalyn states, “but with only two weeks, it doesn’t seem as though you have many options. Unless your brother has a friend? Don’t worry, with our powers combined, we can housebreak him. He just needs a little training.”
“I’m not doing any kind of training. I have work to do.”
“Do you really think we can train him?” Georgie asks while biting on her nail.
“Uh, did you not hear me? I’m not doing any training.”
Ignoring me, Adalyn and Emma nod. “Oh yeah, he’s trainable. But it won’t be easy. We only have—”
“Two weeks.”
Adalyn cringes and says, “It will take some long nights—”
Frustrated, I blurt, “I don’t have time for long nights. I need to finish this job so I can get onto the next one. I have bills, ladies, and flouncing about with the wealthy in the Hamptons is not going to pay them.”
Georgie gives me a sincere look of understanding. Shit, I didn’t mean for that to slip. The last thing I want is pity, especially from her.
“What if I paid you?”
And there it is.
Pity.
I run my hand over my jaw, scratch my neck for a second to calm down the anger boiling inside me. Putting an end to this conversation, I finally say, “I’m going, there will be no paying me, and no fucking training. That’s the end of it.”
I walk back to the bathroom, ready to fucking bust some tile with my bare hands.
I really fucking hate pity.
***
“Come on out. I don’t have all day.”
“Go to hell,” I shout from behind the curtain.
“Racer, don’t make me ask again. I’m not opposed to whipping that curtain open.” Adalyn has been a pain in my rear end ever since she showed up at the shop five days ago. And of course, after she and Emma roped me into this Hamptons weekend, they’ve been hanging out with Georgie, talking about Emma’s wedding and planning it all. Which means for the past five days I’ve had to deal with not just one testy female, but three.
I stare at myself in the mirror. This has to be some kind of sick joke. There is no way guys wear this. At least no self-respecting guy wears this.
“Come on, Racer. Just show us.”
Us . . . yup, you heard that right. Us, as in not just Adalyn but Adalyn and her squad, which consists of Georgie, Georgie’s sister-in-law, Waverly, Madison, and Adalyn herself. The only reason Emma isn’t here is because she has to work, but fear not, they’re sending her updates. Why Waverly and Madison have to be involved is beyond me. The minute I step out of this dressing room I know they’re going to do their girly squeals and make a big deal out of everything, and that’s the last thing I want to hear right now.
Fuck. I run my hand over my face. All I wanted was to make a little e
xtra money. The price tag Georgie and I agreed to when we first made a deal about her shop was too good to pass up. If only I knew it would lead to this: blue balls, no money in my pocket, and a gaggle of cooing women on the other side of a curtain ready for me to put on a “fashion show,” I never would have signed up.
And what’s even worse is I haven’t been able to find a good time to ask Georgie for an advance. The last few days have been consumed by my day job and Georgie’s attention being stolen by Emma and Adalyn, leaving me to myself when it comes to the work in the shop. Not that I’m complaining about the silence.
“Racer, you have three seconds to open that curtain.”
“Or what?” I ask Adalyn, who’s making empty threats.
“Or I’ll tell everyone about the time you got drunk at my house and started putting on—”
I whip open the curtain and stare her down, mentally telling her to shut her trap. No one needs to hear about how I tried on her dresses that were far too small for me. That’s a story that stays between friends.
When the girls take me in, they all have different reactions. Adalyn giggles, Waverly fans herself, Madison nods her approval, and Georgie? I can’t really tell what she’s thinking.
“Pink is your color.” Madison claps.
Pink is not my fucking color. “I look like a giant penis.” Adalyn snorts, loving this way too much. It was the first outfit they wanted me to try on, and I know why. They want to torture me. I’m wearing a pink polo shirt with matching pink and green plaid shorts that cut me mid thigh, and to top it off, they made me tie a mint green sweater around my shoulders. I’m a far cry from my typical holey jeans and plain T-shirt.
My dad is rolling in his grave right now.
“There is no way in hell the guys at this Hampton weekend thing will be wearing this.” I motion at the outfit. “This is ridiculous.”
Waverly steps in. “Sorry to say, Race-Man, but they will be dressed exactly like this.”
“She’s right,” Madison says. “They all wear this exact outfit with variations of colors.”
