Page 30 of The Worst Guy

"We are having a little get-together in a few weeks," she started with a glance toward Nick.

"I have some new residents," he explained.

"This is what I'm saying. You're too welcoming. You two need to knock this shit off before you're overrun with strays and charity cases."

"Such as yourself?" he asked.

"No! I'm a friend of the family," I replied.

"That's such a funny way of saying you've hit on half of my sisters-in-law and selected my wife as your emotional support geologist."

I was an asshole. We knew this.

"I haven't hit on anyonerecently," I argued.

"Facts are facts, Stremmel," he called.

"Back to the dinner party," Erin said with a laugh. "We have the new residents and a friend of mine from Oxford is coming into town as well. He's taking a visiting professor post at Harvard."

"Sounds great," I said. "Are we having barbecue or tacos?"

"We," Nick repeated. "This fuckin' guy. When did we adopt you?"

"Tacos," Erin said.

"Excellent," I replied. Acevedo was a boss when it came to Tex-Mex. "So, what do you need from me?"

Erin grinned. "Get Sara to come."

The restraint that it took me to keep from sayingI already have—twice—almost gave me a hernia. I pressed my fist to my mouth because I didn't trust myselfat allright now.

Erin continued on, seemingly oblivious to the alarms blasting in my head. "She's only been here a few times and it's always been with a big group, like when we said goodbye to the intern class and Alex's birthday, and she's never been available for any of our smaller dinners. Nick says she's shy and—"

"That is inaccurate," I said from behind my fist. I stood, stalked to the fridge in search of something to occupy my mouth. "The last thing Shapiro could ever be is shy. You're reading that one all wrong, Acevedo."

"Please," he said, holding his arms out. "Simply because she's not afraid of you doesn't mean she's not also shy."

I peered at him as I popped the top off a beer bottle. "Everything you just said is wrong."

Nick rubbed a hand down his face. "For someone who spends so much time thinking about himself, your self-awareness could use work." He pointed at a dish on the stove. "Make yourself useful, would you? Stir this."

"Promise me you'll ask her," Erin said. "Alex is working on it too. I hope that doesn't overwhelm her too much."

I took a long pull from my beer to keep from commenting on that. The Sara I knew was physically immune to any form of overwhelm. If anything, she lived in a continually underwhelmed state. There was a good chance I could rail her straight through a wall and she'd find a way to be unimpressed.

"Please?" Erin prompted.

I blinked at her. "What?"

"Ask Sara to come and do it nicely," Erin said.

"If anyone's doing the asking, it's her," I murmured. "And I'm not going to be nice about getting her there."

Nick glanced at me with alarm as he poured Erin a glass of wine. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Nothing. Nothing." I went back to stirring in earnest. "You should know she doesn't respond to nice."

"Listen," Nick said with a sigh. "You're the one spending all this time with her, albeit employer-mandated time. We'd like to see more of her outside work—"