Page 27 of Mr. Infuriating

Derrick turned his attention toward me, waiting for me to answer, as well.

“I would never,” I told him, then muttered “in front of you.”

That made Gabriel bark out a laugh, which he quickly tried to disguise by covering his mouth with his napkin then pointed at his almost empty beer mug and told Derrick, “I’ll take one more when you get a chance.”

The lines around his cobalt blue eyes crinkled, and it made him even hotter, if that was possible.

“So, what were we talking about?” I asked. The three Cosmos I’d already had were taking their toll.

Gabriel gestured to one of the many TVs stationed around the bar where the basketball game was on. “I think we were talking about if the Celtics are going to make the playoffs this year.”

No, that wasn’t it.

But then Jayson Tatum dunked over his Lakers opponent, and the bar went wild. Gabriel’s gorgeous face lit up with the sexiest smile, and I forgot what I was trying to ask.

****

Gabe

The tipsy little teacher sitting next to me was really making it hard to do the right thing andnotkiss her.

Because it was obvious the way she kept brushing her tits against my biceps and looking up at me with her big blue eyes, she’d be on board if I dropped my lips to hers and explored her mouth with my tongue.

My dick thought that sounded like a great idea. The longer I sat next to her basking in her scent and listening to her giggles while her petite hands occasionally stroked my arm, the harder it became for me to disagree with him.

Gretchen wasn’t to the point where she couldn’t give consent. But there’s no way she’d agree to go home with me if she knew who I was. And I’d have to come clean about that if I evenconsideredmaking a move.

But, I conceded, I didn’t want to come clean. I really was having a good time just hanging out with her. Admittedly, the flirting was a nice bonus, and my dick had jumped more times than I could count, but I found Ilikedher. Fucking Derrick was right.

The basketball game was over, and the crowd started to thin. Laura and my brother were engaging in what could only be described as foreplay. The smoldering looks and innuendos left no doubt how their night was going to end.

Gretchen turned to me and demanded, “So, Gabriel. Are you ever going to tell me what your business is? Or should I just assume you’re a spy?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not a spy, sweetheart. No, I’m far more boring. I make custom furniture.”

“What kind of furniture?”

This is where I should have led with cabinets—since that was a large percentage of what I did and what I’d done for her, but instead I found myself saying, “Oh, you know, tables, bedroom furniture, chests with pop-up TV lifts, cabinets, that kind of thing.”

She narrowed her eyes at me as she twirled a strand of her hair, and I thought she’d put the pieces together. Instead, she pointed a finger at me, her words slurring slightly when she said, “So, let me ask you this. If you made a piece of furniture for someone, and they wanted to cancel the order, would you sue them?”

“Well, normally I try to get paid up front, so I wouldn’t have to. But in the event that I only got a deposit…”

Gretchen gnawed on her bottom lip as she waited for my answer.

“I would have to.”

I could tell by her frown that she didn’t like that response, so I decided to try to reason with her. Probably not my smartest move, considering she was at least four Cosmopolitans in, but I figured I’d give it a shot.

“You wouldn’t teach for free, would you? Even though you love it, you still have bills to pay. It’s the same with me. If I spend time working on a piece, I have to get paid. I have staffwho depend on me, a building with a mortgage, utilities, materials, not to mention, I have my own personal bills.”

She slumped against the back of her barstool.

“I guess that makes sense.”

Because I wasn’t ready to give up the ruse of not knowing who she was, I continued. “Why do you ask?”

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