Page 75 of Imperfections Seduced
“Who says I haven’t?”
“Have you?” she asks, putting her head closer to me over the table.
“Maybe.”
“Who was it?”
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t say? You would only be this secretive if it was someone I knew.”
“It is someone we know, and for that reason I’m not going to say anything else about it.”
“This must be big. Ishebig? Does Ava know? If Ava knows, then I should know too.”
“I’m not going to say another word about it.”
“Fine. Speaking of Ava, why is she cock-blocking?”
“What?”
“You heard me; she won’t give me her cousin’s number. I was feeling him; I think he was feeling me too. We could get together and feel each other out to see how good we can feel together.”
My fork stops in midair then I put it in my mouth.
“Cat? Did I say something wrong? You’re looking at me funny.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You look upset. You said Nick and you were only friends.”
“We are.”
“Are you sure you’re not interested in being more than friends with him? If you were, I would totally understand—he’s a hottie. I don’t know how you made it this long without jumping him. I would have ridden that like a cowboy, Wild Wild West style, raw, bareback and all.”
I almost choke on my salad. I can’t stop coughing. Who chokes on salad? I’ll tell you who, anyone having a conversation with Chloe. She races from her side of the booth next to me. I go from being a choking victim to being assaulted from the blows she’s administering to my back.
“Cat, are you okay?”
“I would be better if you weren’t making my back black and blue!” I was able to croak out after dislodging the lettuce stuck in my throat. “More importantly, stop drawing attention to us.” The few people in the café are casting concerned looks in our direction.
“I don’t want you to choke to death, it would ruin my lunch.”
“Thank you for being so concerned.”
“No problem, what are friends for?” Her phone rings. She looks at it and puts it back down. “I have to cut lunchshort, the wicked bitch of the east has summoned me back to work.”
“You’re supposed to be off for the rest of the day.”
“Yeah, well, I’m an on-call personal shopper. The money says I’m working, I’m working.”
“Since when are you on call?”
“I’ve been promoted for the day. Apparently, an absurdly rich sheik has requested me to be his personal shopper for the day.”
“Maybe this could be your Mr. Right. He asked for you personally, so he must be interested. Sounds like he’s an older gentleman with lots of money—your type.”
She grabs her bag off the table, pulls out a twenty dollar bill, and puts it on the table. “I don’t think so. Men like him don’t like women with smart-ass mouths that back talk. And I don’t like a man telling me what to do unless it’s in bed.”
