Tempted
“How’d you do tonight?” he asks while leafing through his money stack and counting his earnings.
“Should you do that here?” I ask, looking around the mostly empty diner. “You’re going to get mugged one of these nights.”
“Probably not, but I’ve been saving for a motorcycle, and I want to see how close I am.”
“Ohh, sexy. I love a guy on a bike.”
“Sorry, love. Again, not my type. You’re hot and all, but you’re too vanilla. Plus, to be honest, I don’t shit where I eat.” He smirks.
I pout my lips. “That’s really too bad because you’re basically my dream guy. Life is not fair.” I throw a napkin across the table at my friend as he laughs.
“What was up with Drew following you around like a lapdog tonight?”
I purse my lips. “That isn’t normal?”
It’s a stupid question. Something about Drew tells me he typically leaves the training in other people’s hands. I just didn’t want to overthink things.
“Um. No. He rarely leaves his office other than to mingle with the clientele.”
“Oh.” It’s all I say, not wanting to give anything away, but it doesn’t work. By the way Carter’s eyes narrow, he’s onto me.
“Did something happen?”
“What? No. Why would you say that?” I ask in a rush of words, looking more guilty by the second.
“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs, slapping his palm to his head. “Please tell me you haven’t boned him.”
“Oh. My. God. Carter!” I reprimand. “Of course not. Are you insane?”
“Shh,” he says, waving his hand to signal me to lower my voice.
“There’s nobody in here.”
“Regardless, this isn’t a conversation to scream to the city. Drew is front-page news, and if it got out that he was sleeping with his employees, it would surely be newsworthy.”
“Number one, I’m not sleeping with Drew. Or anyone else for that matter,” I tack on for good measure. “For two, employees? As in plural?”
“Drew has a history with Monica . . .” His words trail off, and I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“So, the guy slept with his waitress. So what? How is that news?”
He laughs, but it lacks humor. “Drew is one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City, Bailey. That, in and of itself, makes anything pertaining to him, news. Every woman in the tristate area would be banging on Silver’s door trying to get a job. It would be mayhem.”
I roll my eyes at his over-exaggeration. Women can’t be that desperate.
Although, I do have to admit, he’s sex on a stick. Everything from the way he walks to the man’s voice is arousing. However, hearing that he slept with Monica does temper a bit of the heat I felt because that means I’m not special. My brow furrows at the thought.
“Stop,” Carter commands, and I look up to his stern gaze. “Don’t even let Drew’s actions impact you. If he’s paying you extra attention, it’s because something is special about you.”
It’s like he took the words right from my head. He knew exactly what I was thinking and the insecurities I carry. A kindred spirit is what I feel in Carter.
“Regardless of the attention, Bailey, don’t fall into his trap. He’s a good guy, but he’s not good for you.”
I bristle at his insistence that Drew and I are not a match. I know as much, but hearing someone else say it hurts. Especially coming from my friend.
“I said he isn’t good for you,” he repeats. “I see that look. You’re misconstruing my words. This isn’t about you, Bailey. It’s about Drew’s lifestyle. He owns a club. He runs with the elite. He dates models out in public. Everyone else is hidden from view like a sidepiece. And even those worthy models are tossed to the side eventually because Drew Lawson doesn’t do relationships.”
Every reason he just named is exactly why he’s right. I need to stay away from Drew.
He’s nothing but trouble for me.
“Well, good thing he’s just my boss, and nothing is going on.”
He bites his bottom lip. “That’s good to hear, Bae. I hope it stays that way.”
“It will.”
“Good.”
“Moving on,” I prompt, needing to discuss anything other than our sexy as hell boss.
Most of what he said I already knew from my sister, but hearing it from someone who knows him better than Harper just solidifies what she told me.
“Tell me more about this motorcycle,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.
Carter spends the next thirty minutes talking to me about all things motorcycle. From clubs in the area to the best highways to ride, I now feel like an expert.
My hands come above my head as I stretch, and a yawn escapes my mouth.
“All right, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time to get you to bed. You’re about to turn into a pumpkin.”
“Wrong fairy tale,” I mumble through another yawn, but I nod my head eagerly. The thought of my comfy duvet and feather pillows make it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open.