He turns to his sister and smiles. “Bean, was this guy bothering you?” His voice is warm, but he jerks his thumb in my direction like a guillotine.
“Not at all. He’s fine, thanks,” she says. “We just ran into each other outside the bathrooms.”
Killian nods. “He wet himself.”
Very funny. “It’s just water.”
“Nobody said it wasn’t,” Killian says, doing a crummy job of stifling his laugh. “But water is wet…”
We finish our breakfast and charge it to our rooms. But the guys linger around the table.
I understand why Max is staying. He’s worried about his sister. But why are Killian and Cole staying? They aren’t going to protect me from Max. As a matter of fact, I’ll be lucky if they don’t say something to undermine me.
Max finally stands after consuming two more orange juices. “You coming, Bean?” he says.
“Actually, no. Go ahead. Devlin and I need to talk,” Becca says before taking a sip of her iced coffee and placing the empty glass on the table.
“So talk,” he says, parking his ass back on the chair.
“What she means is, we need some privacy,” I add.
Max’s dark scowl says he didn’t ask me.
“That’s right,” Becca says.
“But I don’t trust him.”
Geez, thanks.
He adds, “Not with you, anyway.”
Okay, that’s fair.
“We’re in a restaurant, Max. A public place,” she says. “I’ll talk with you later.” She smiles. “If you don’t tru
st him, trust me. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I give him my most reassuring nod.
Max looks at us like we’re the Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood. But he finally leaves with Killian and Cole.
I immediately turn to her. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t divorce you now.”
Chapter Twelve
Becca
“You took my money,” I blurt out. “That makes our existing agreement binding. Do you know how expensive it is to pay enough to have somebody give up a gigolo job?” I pause for fraction of a second, then realize I don’t need his answer to that question. “Actually, you should know because you are the gigolo. Bruce.”
I shoot him a silent rebuke over his refusal to honor our contract. I still don’t know why he’s doing the side gig, but my money should be as good as any of his clients’. But then, does anybody know why men do incomprehensible things when it comes to sex?
“That’s not my name, and I told you I didn’t get any money. Or the agreement,” Devlin says.
“And like I said, I PayPal’d you the money. They may have screwed up, but it should show up on your end soon.”
“I don’t have PayPal,” he says flatly.
I blink. He has to be lying about that! “Come on. Everyone has PayPal. How else do you buy things online?”