Page 3 of Wild Card (Men of Action #4)

She swivels in her chair so fast it hits the wall.

“If I was speaking to you, I’d point out there is no way you have the ingredients for your pesto chicken in the empty vessel you call a refrigerator.

Which means you have to go to the store, buy the ingredients, go home, prepare, and cook.

Since you’ve worked yourself to the bone, you’ll pass out somewhere in that time—burning the sauce and my dinner.

Then I’ll be starving and pissed about the mess.

My idea of going out to dinner is loads more practical . ”

“I didn’t refuse dinner. I refused Tom’s.”

“Why? Tom’s has excellent food, great drinks, and the atmosphere is perfect.”

“It’s crawling with police officers and bar food.”

“Yes! Eye candy and glutenous delights. I love bar food.” She gestures wildly, her voice rising. “Plus, it’s Friday night! We never go out.”

“We went out last week.”

“And it was awesome…”

“You weren’t the one fighting off the overly friendly guy who couldn’t take a hint.”

“I found the perfect solution!”

“You made me seem like a charity case who can’t take care of herself.”

“Did not. I found the hottest guy in the bar and saved your ass.”

“I could have handled that man without the testosterone showdown.”

“First off, you are way too polite and it wasn’t working. Second, my way was much more fun.”

“For who?”

“For everyone watching. Mr. Magic didn’t seem to mind either.”

I roll my eyes at her term. “Please don’t refer to him as that.”

“No, you ran off before we could get his real name. He will forever be known as Mr. Magic for making you smile.”

“I smile all the time.”

“You give your professional smile. When’s the last time you actually smiled?”

I wrack my brain for an example when her screen flashes with an ad for a motorized scooter. All thoughts of smiling are gone as I remember the mobility of her last patient. “Is that for Mr. Pacer?”

She scrunches her nose, her eyes darting to the screen. Her expression changes, one side of her lips curling. “No, he’ll be walking miles when I’m done with him. This is for you.”

“Why do I need a motorized scooter?”

“Because you’re determined to skip your youth and catapult straight into old age.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Stop acting like an old hodger.”

“What the hell is a hodger?”

“It’s a family term. Means you’re geriatric.”

“Jesus, maybe we should go back to the silent treatment.”

“Do I detect hostility?”

“You’re being a bitch.”

Her mouth splits wide. “Say it again.”

“You want me to call you a bitch?”

“I want you to show some damn emotion and throw some energy into it.”

“You’re making no sense.”

“Hodger.”

“Bitch.”

“Hussy.”

“Hussy?”

“Bad choice of words. You’d have to get laid to fit into that category. I’ll go with spinster.”

My hand goes to the zing in my chest at that one. “Shit, Bex.”

“Don’t act hurt, get mad.”

“What good will that do?”

“It will make me feel better.”

“Me being angry will make you feel better?”

“Yes. Because it will prove you are humanly capable of not being perfect all the time.”

“I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“You’re pretty damn close.”

“Why do you want me mad?”

“Maybe if you got mad more often you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Situation? What—” The words die knowing she’s moved way past not going out to a bar tonight. My nose stings and throat burns at the concern in my best friend’s gaze. “I’m okay.”

“You’re a much better person than anyone I know. That opportunistic leech of a sister and sorry excuse for a man had the balls to send you a summons to their doom. It’s time you blow up.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No, you should have called my ass last night so I could be there with you and the family.”

“Chase was hot. He disowned Rylee and Mom.”

“He told me.”

“When?”

“When I called to ream him for leaving me out. Told me about your dad, too.”

“Not exactly great news.”

“It’s excellent news!”

“My parents’ marriage is dissolving. How is that excellent?’

“Because your dad is taking a stand. Finally, he’s joining the loyalists.”

“You make it sound like a revolution.”

“Call it what you want, those of us on the right side of morality. We don’t fuck over the ones we love.”

“I didn’t ask him to choose.”

“People with integrity don’t need to be asked to do what’s right.”

Her words bounce in my head. “I need to call Dad.”

“You should.”

“It’s just that he… he treats me like I’m about to break.”

“Are you?”

I snap my eyes to her. “Absolutely not.”

“Then prove it. You’ve always been an overachieving workhorse, but you turned into a machine when that prick admitted to cheating on you.”

“I was disgraced.”

“For no reason. Your dad has a mixture of guilt and stupidity. Prove to him you’re not affected anymore.”

“I can do that.”

“A good way to do that is to go out with me tonight and act like a normal twenty-six-year-old.”

My eyes narrow. “Nicely played.”

She shrugs. “I’m determined.”

“No Tom’s.”

“No Tom’s.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “Tonight,” she mutters under her breath.

I don’t even argue that there will be no more Tom’s in my future.