Page 42 of See Me

Me:

Just think about it.

If not Enzo will see you in Vegas.

Evie:

Talk later. XOXO

The exact minute I get myself calm enough to pick up an invoice and start working, there’s a knock on my door.

“What?” I bark.

The delivery driver for our local brewery pokes his head. “Igot your seasonal kegs out here. You wanna sign or should I grab Enzo?”

“I’ll take it.” I drop the papers in my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “Sorry about that.”

His eyes bounce around the room avoiding my face. “Rough day?”

I sigh as I stand and round the desk. “They're all rough.”

He takes a step back and waits for the clipboard back. “Right. Where do you want them?”

“Just put them in the hallway inside the back door and I’ll grab them.”

He nods. “You got it.”

Invoices forgotten, I grab a pair of gloves and lift a keg to carry it out to the bar. My shoulders scream after the workout I gave them this morning. My forearm reminds me of a different kind of workout I gave myself last night and that, paired with Ella walking past me to go to the kitchen, has my dick twitching. I haul the keg behind the bar and Enzo smiles and shakes his head.

I drop the keg in front of the cooler. “What?”

He rubs his hand over his mouth to cover a grin. “Since when do you carry kegs out here?”

I pull my gloves up and thread my fingers to reposition them. “I carry kegs.”

“Never. Never have you carried kegs.”

“This is my fucking bar. Of course I’ve carried kegs.”

He makes a face and points to my arms. “Not with your shirt sleeves pulled up and yourfuck mejeans on.”

I look down at my jeans. “My what?”

“Fuck me jeans. The ones that make your ass look good. We all have them.” He turns around and pops his hip out to show me his ass. “Nice, right? You seem to be wearing yours an awful lot lately. Trying to impress someone?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My therapist is still stumped.” He punches my shoulder. “But hey, don’t be ashamed. Us Russo’s were blessed with dumpies.”

I stare at his dumb fucking face. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Dump Trucks. Dumpies.” When I just stare at him and raise an eyebrow, he sighs. “We have nice asses.”

“I think you need medication,” I walk away to grab another keg and say over my shoulder, “and quit looking at my ass.”

As I walk past the service window, I see Ella and Omar whispering with their heads together. It seems she’s gotten close to everyone here. Made friends and built connections with everyone. All, except for Tomi and me.

Part of me simmers with jealousy that she can so easily form bonds with people. Does that mean she chose not to with me? Not that I’ve made it an easy feat. I haven’t let up on her for one second. But that’s just because I can’t get caught in another woman’s web. And she looks like she spins a pretty fancy web.

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