Page 44 of Forever Cursed

“So you’re giving up?” Her voice rises, and my eyes widen.

“No—”

“You’ll quit after one rejection?”

“It’s not quitting?—”

“Yes, it is!” she shouts, and I’m taken aback.

“There’s no reason to scream,” I whisper before glancing over at the table where the two guys are and looking at them in wonder.

When the one in the blue shirt sees I’m watching them, he lowers his hat to hide his face and whispers something to his partner.

“I can’t believe this,” Lindsay scoffs, but I don’t give her the time of day.

The guy in the red shirt peeks over at me, and I tilt my head as a strange sensation creeps over my body. The second he turns away, I smile.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Looking back at my date, I stand up and place some bills on the table.

“I’d say it was a lovely time, but we both know it wasn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Before she can say anything, I walk across the way and tower over the two men hiding behind their hands.

Did these girls really think they could disguise themselves like this? Did Chrissy really think I wouldn’t spot her curls from a mile away?

Placing my hand on the table, I lean forward and lift Chrissy’s cap by the bill. I chuckle the second her glasses slide down her nose and laugh harder when her mustache comes into full view.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” I manage to ask.

Without a moment of hesitation, Chrissy points at Gwen and blurts out, “It was all her idea!”

“What?!” Gwen shrieks before the two of them go back and forth.

My smile grows as I watch these two point and throw each other under the bus.

“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands in the air and snort. “Chrissy,” I chide with a teasing tone.

“Rome,” she mumbles as her leg jostles.

Holding out my hand, I meet her gaze and offer her a wide smile. “We need to talk.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?” She pouts while crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sorry, Wildflower, you don’t have a choice.” I grab her hand and pull her out of her chair with ease.

She doesn’t fight back when I guide her to the side of the restaurant, toward the parking lot, and then stop at my car. She leans against the trunk and purses her lips.

“Okay, missy.” I stop short and chuckle at her sweaty face. “Let’s just take this off.” I peel the mustache off her lips, and her jaw drops open.

“Son of a bitch!” She grunts before doubling over and pressing her hand against her mouth.

“Did you crazy glue that thing on?” I ask while crumbling it in my hand.

“Damn, and that’s why I don’t wax.” She shakes it off before meeting my gaze again.

I stop myself from laughing at the red mark above her upper lip.

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