Page 19 of Sweet Pea

“Thanks, Doll. Everything looks amazing,” Sweet Pea said, flashing his dimples at Sally Anne before she left us alone again.

“How are we possibly going to eat all of this?” I asked, hoping to reset the conversation.

“I should probably take mine to go,” Sweet Pea said, taking out his wallet.

“What? Hold on,” I protested, as he stood.

“I appreciate your company and the file, but you can keep it, along with your job offer. I’m not for hire and I’m not for sale.” He pulled out five one hundred-dollar bills and placed them on the table. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal and your evening.”

* * *

Sweet Pea

I left Callie Amesand her file at the Burning Saints’ private table and headed for the rear exit.

“Wait a minute,” she protested, but I kept on walking, paying her no mind. Well, pretending to pay her no mind. Presently, I couldn’t imagine how the fuck I was going to get her out of my head.

I’d almost made it to the door at the end of the narrow hallway, when someone shoved me from behind. I spun around, ready to clock the fool who’d put his hands on me and was shocked to see Callie standing there.

“What the fuck?” I asked, surprised not only by her actions, but by how hard she shoved me.

“What the fuck, me? What the fuck, you!” she replied, her arms stretched out in a ‘come at me bro’ stance.

I burst out in laughter, which was apparently not the reaction Callie was looking for.

“We’re not done talking,” she said, scowling.

“I see how it is,” I said, folding my arms.

“How what is?”

“You’re a fightin’ drunk,” I replied.

“First of all, I’m not a drunk,” Callie argued. “And what does my drinking have to do with you being rude and walking away like that?”

“I’m not being rude, I’m trying to save you,” I replied.

“Save me. From what?”

“From saying or doing anything more stupid than you’ve already done tonight.”

Callie began to speak, as if ready to fire off her next arguing remark, but instead paused before saying, “You’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“I can get a lot more stupid. Drinking doesn’t put me in the mood for fighting,” she said, closing the distance between us.

“No?” I asked, looking down into her eyes.

“It puts me in the mood to fuck.”

Jesus, fuck!

I smiled slowly. “Your place or mine?”

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