Flirting With Disaster (Camelot 3)

“Don’t worry about that. Unless you want to be ffired, just ignore it. He has t-to drop the c-contract with your brother if he wants to g-get rid of us.”

“I’ve never been fired before. You know how many jobs I’ve had? Bus girl, lifeguard, camp counselor, waitress, barista, bartender, business owner, office manager. That’s … what?” She paused to look at the ceiling and count. “Seven. And that’s just kinds of jobs. It doesn’t count all the different places I worked. Nobody’s ever fired me before. I really do suck at this.”

“It’s eight.”

“What’s eight?”

“Bus girl, lifeguard, camp counselor, waitress, barista, bartender, business owner, office manager. That’s eight jobs. And you don’t ssuck. He d-didn’t fire you because you ssuck.” Sean sat down on a backless bench to take off his shoes. They were tacky with spilled drinks and filthy from being stepped on.

“Well, maybe not,” she said. She snagged his jacket off the table. “I’m pretty sure he fired me because he’s drunk, and he’s an asshole, and he’s really hurting for some reason. But even so, it gets to me, you know?”

She put his jacket on a hanger, and he admired the slim shape of her. “You d-don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” She looked at her hands. “Oh. Sorry. I’m programmed to clean up after other people. Blame my mother.”

She slid the mirrored closet door closed, and it hit the end of the track with a bang that made the glass shudder.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. I just …” She raked her hand through her hair, and for a second she looked so fragile and shaken, he reached a hand out without even thinking about it.

“C-come here.”

She obediently stepped closer. He caught her by the hip, but she didn’t move into his embrace. Her expression remained distant, unfocused, even as her eyes looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I wanted to be good at this job,” she said. “But if I wasn’t good at it, I at least wanted to be a good friend to Judah. And now I’m neither. I guess … I’m not really sure what I am anymore.” She met his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing great.”

She made a dismissive sound, and he wrapped his other hand around her hip. “Ssweetheart, you are. Pratt’s a mess. He’s a much bigger mess than anybody c-can fix in a few weeks. There’s no way to rescue ssomebody who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Her mouth flattened. “I’m not trying to rescue him. I don’t do that anymore.”

He’d inadvertently pushed a button. “Okay,” he said, but it was too late.

“I’m not trying to rescue you, either,” she said, pushing off his shoulders with both hands until he released his grip at her hips. “From now on, hang up your own coat.”

“Okay.”

She dipped sideways and lifted her foot to take off her boot, giving him a view up into the dark valley between her thighs. His hands twitched.

“What was Ben Abrams doing at the concert?” she asked.

“Visiting an old ffriend?”

She frowned. “They were a lot more than friends.”

“They’re living in P-pella, right? Where Judah grew up? I checked, and it’s a seventy-five-minute drive. The c-concert announcement just went up on Facebook this afternoon. They would’ve had to want to c-come pretty bad to haul ass to Iowa City after work. Not to mention they didn’t fit in that c-crowd at all.”

“Plus, no way did she wear that outfit to work.” She leaned over to pull off her other boot, which put her chest directly in front of his face.

When she straightened, instinct made him glance at the door to confirm he’d flipped the deadbolt.

“She’d done her makeup for the show. I bet it took her more than twenty minutes. That was some elaborate eye shadow.”

“So how did Ben know Judah was c-coming?”