I glance over, and curse the delicious looking thing. Damn war.
“I thought it was from you. Jessica brought it to me to apologize for the shit she pulled in front of you. I think she’s worried about getting fired. But I tossed it out because I just knew you had something gross as the gooey center. Something like worms and blood.”
Wren wrinkles his nose in disgust while Brin laughs and stands.
“Glad I’ve made you paranoid. I’m going home now to think of something much better than worm and blood cake. My worms died, and the blood did something weird. So I had to scratch that plan.”
Most people would probably find this conversation... disturbing, but it’s as natural as talking about the weather between the two of us.
“So I’ll see you after you get done plotting my demise?” I ask, smiling like a fool as she bends and presses her lips to mine once more.
“Yes,” she says sweetly, too sweetly. She’s already plotting. Damn.
I watch her ass with appreciation as she leaves. How in the hell did I find a girl as cool as her? I just wish it could be more than it is.
The second the door shuts, Wren leans up on the desk.
“You really like her,” he observes, his eyes on me very intently.
I don’t want to talk about this, so I shrug. Before I can ask him anything about his kid, he continues. “But you don’t plan on getting serious with her.”
It’s not a question, because he knows me well.
“We’re having fun. That’s enough for me and her. For now. Eventually she’ll want more, and the fun will end. But until that time comes, I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. I’ve never had this before.”
I hate the pity in his eyes. “But you could enjoy it for longer. There’s nothing stopping you from trying.”
I’d love nothing more than to punch him. Brin left me in a great mood, and Wren is destroying it. If she’s not pushing, then why the hell is everyone else?
“You know exactly what’s stopping me. Don’t pretend as though I’m some normal guy capable of being what Brin needs. Just... don’t. Things are fine, better than fine, and until they’re not fine... Well, I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
He frowns but nods slowly. He knows I’m right.
Jessica walks back in, her usual smile gone as she carries another cake toward my desk. This one looks... store bought, though. That sucks. Homemade cake is always better.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking up at her as she turns to walk out.
“A cake,” she mutters, sulking as she exits.
“Sounds like you’ve pissed her off,” Wren says, amused.
Damn drama.
“Eat cake and shut the hell up.”
He rolls his eyes as I grab two plastic forks from my desk stash, and I open the lid to the chocolate beauty that pales in comparison to the last one. She could have at least taken it out of the store box.
“Is the icing moving?” Wren asks just as I pull a bite to my lips.
I pull it back and stare at it. Sure enough, the fucking icing is wiggling, and I turn a little pale when I see a slender, disgusting, slithering thing squirming around just under the icing.
She didn’t. She couldn’t have.
I drop the fork full of cake, and Wren gags as he steps away. I glare out at the pet store that is two shops down from the bakery. She did. She’s out there beside her car, and she’s fucking waving. That conniving little—
“She’s quick,” Wren says, half gagging, half laughing, as he draws my attention back to him.
For some reason, that makes me smile. “She’s pretty damn awesome.”
I drop the cake to the second trashcan in my office, and I shake my head. She’s definitely baking me a good cake now.
“The two of you are pretty damn perfect for each other, if you ask me,” he says, and my smile vanishes.
Too perfect. This almost seems like a cruel joke. Fate has a sadistic sense of humor if that’s the case.
***
BRIN
I squeal and dive into my room, locking the door behind me, but he’s at the window instead of the door, and the damn thing isn’t locked. It’s too dark to be running around the frigging house!
“Stop! I said I’m sorry,” I say through a laugh, but he just keeps coming.
“Your ass is mine!”
I giggle while darting out the door, and I run into Maggie’s room, barely getting the door slammed in time. Like a child scared of a closet monster, I dive onto Maggie’s bed and pull the covers over me.
“Maggie? Why are you already in bed?” I whisper, but the pounding on the door makes me scream, and I hear another scream that seems to echo.
When I jump back, trying to get closer to Maggie, my hand hits the smooth skin of her side and I grimace.