Page 31 of Outcast
Would Emory look down on me, like some poor asshole who needed to beg for a handout to run his business? But what did I care? He’d just been slumming it with me the other night. I made out with the guy, answered some questions about his sexuality.
We weren’t going steady.
My high school crush was turning me into a silly kid.
Holden parked in front of the old-school soda shop. A red-and-white striped awning extended over the sidewalk, and the large plate-glass window advertised “MoonShakes! Corndogs! Harvest Fries!”
“Damn, I haven’t had a MoonShake in…”
“Ten years?” Holden said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least if we’re fucked, we can gorge on ice cream,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
I opened my door and followed him through the chrome door. Inside, cherry red-and-chrome stools lined the counter—most of them full as the lunch crowd surged in. Teal-colored tables were arranged over the black-checked floor.
Emory sat at one near the front window, his charcoal suit tailored into a snug fit that molded to his shoulders and outlined his trim shape. A purple tie brought out the darker shades of his blue eyes.
Unlike Saturday night, his hair was smooth and unruffled. He looked every inch the respectable businessman.
And damn, but I wanted to run my hands through his hair and mess him up all over again.
I wasn’t the only one either.
A petite blonde in capris and a flowery blouse leaned over him so much her breasts were practically begging to be admired. She placed a long-nailed hand on his arm, trying to hold his attention as he glanced up.
Did he feel me staring?
Possiblyglaring.
“Who is this handsy bitch?” I muttered as we cut across the room, my eyes never leaving Emory.
“She’s Hailey Peterson, the biggest Realtor in town. What is wrong with you?”
I scowled. “Nothing.”
“Are you shitting me right now?”
“What?”
“We’re about to meet about the future of our fucking business, and you’ve got a hard-on for the guy?”
“Lower your voice,” I growled. “I don’t think half the town heard you.”
Holden winced. “Sorry, but Gray, tell me you didn’t come here to hit on our banker.”
“I didn’t.”
“Because this isn’t the time.”
“I know.”
“Not that there’s, you know, anything wrong with flirting another time. I just?—”
“I get it, Holden,” I said shortly. “No playing footsie under the table.”
I reached Emory first, maybe a little too motivated to move Hailey along. She glanced at me, then did a double take. “Have we met?”
