The Good Fight (Time Served Book 3) by Julianna Keyes Read Free Book Online Page B

nothing.”
    “Because you’re a chick.”
    “And you’re a dick.”
    He’d laughed, not at all offended. “I’ll fuck her. What’s her number?”
    “She told me she wasn’t interested in you. She doesn’t care for pretty-boy gardeners.”
    “I’m a chef, asshole. And if she’s not into me, she’s obviously crazy. So maybe you shouldn’t fuck her.”
    I shook my head and laughed into the alcohol. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
    “Oscar? Are you okay?”
    I blink a few times, remembering where I am. Susan’s shielding her eyes with her hand, squinting at my face, her doctor expression in place.
    “I’m fine,” I say, gently pushing her back a step. She’d risen onto her tiptoes to get a better view, and it’s far too tempting to have her there. Plus I’m pretty sure I smell like ass.
    She frowns. “Sorry.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” I finish the water and look around for another recycling bin.
    “No,” she says, putting a hand on my good arm when I turn. She thinks I’m leaving, when I’m pretty sure I couldn’t convince my feet to move if a train was coming. “I mean, I’m sorry about Wednesday.”
    I look at her, brows raised. I’m startled by the words, but try not to show it. “For what?”
    She frowns as she tries to muster her thoughts. “For how it ended,” she says. “I shouldn’t have just walked away. I know you have the right to say no. I just...” She takes a breath. “I’m very self-absorbed, and I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. It’s not very often I meet someone I want to...” Her gaze flits away for a second, then returns, determined. “...I want to sleep with, and when I want something, I normally just...get it.”
    “You get it?”
    She purses her lips. “I mean, I work for it, and then I get it. You know, make a plan, see it through, achieve your goal.”
    “What’s the goal here?”
    Now she looks annoyed. “Listen, sometimes the plan needs to be adjusted. I know how to adapt. And if you’re not interested because of what happened on the rooftop, then I’ll figure out something else.”
    It’s so hard not to laugh. She’s talking to me about her sex plan. Her sex with me plan. And fuck if I’ll admit why I’m not just jumping on board. “Sorry, Susan,” I imagine myself explaining. “I’d prefer to have a relationship with you, not just no-strings sex. I’m a bit of a chick like that. Thanks anyway!”
    A yawn takes over and she covers her mouth, peering around, most likely in search of some sort of over-sugared coffee.
    “You said you just finished work?”
    “Yeah. Emergency surgery. They woke me up.”
    “And now you need one of your drinks?”
    She smiles, guilty. “I’m sure I’ll be okay until I get home. It’s only five minutes from here.”
    “Walking or driving?” My car’s parked farther away than her apartment, but still I ask, “You want a lift? I really need to get home and shower.”
    Susan hesitates. “You can shower at my place.”
    My eyebrows raise again. “Oh yeah?”
    “If you want.”
    “What do you want?”
    “An iced mocha. And to scratch an itch.”
    “An itch you’ve had since Christmas?”
    She laughs, her eyes combing over my chest, reading the random logo printed on the front of the old T-shirt. “Since the evening a tall blond guy came into the ER with a beat-up face and a wrist that got sprained by a watermelon.”
    “Okay, it was a whole crate of watermelons, not just one.”
    “I don’t do this a lot, Oscar.”
    “Oz. And do what? Proposition guys at the end of races?”
    “Yes.”
    I was joking, but she seems serious. Not that I need convincing. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Susan. But I need a shower.”
    “Do you have an itch?”
    I smile ruefully. “I have an itch. But I’m not sure scratching it won’t just make it worse.” Because once that starving man has finished the soup course, he’s going to want salad and bread and meat and potatoes and