Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) - Sidney Halston Page 0,45
make it to dinner?” Chrissy called from the kitchen through the open window. Cooking for her two men was something she did often. Sometimes she did it at her own house, other times she did it at Slade’s.
“Nah. She’s working till late. She said she’d grab something at the bar during her shift. She’s coming over afterward.”
“Well, dinner’s almost ready, guys. Jack, honey, why don’t you set the table?” Jack didn’t hesitate in getting up to do her bidding.
As Slade was about to get up to help, his phone rang. When he saw Jessica’s name on the screen, he smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she echoed.
“Miss me?”
“Maybe.” She laughed. “I’m so damn happy for you guys. I knew y’all would win,” she said, her Southern drawl coming out. He had sent her a text after the fight.
Then her voice changed, becoming more serious. “So, um, it’s probably none of my business, but I thought you’d like to know that Tony is here at the bar. He’s one drink short of being kicked out on his ass by Jett.” Slade looked at his watch. Tony’s fight had ended about an hour and a half ago. It was now almost eleven at night.
“Fuck. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Slade jumped up and walked inside. “Save my dinner. Gotta go. Tony’s being…well, Tony.” Then he grabbed his keys and headed to the Pier. On his way, he called Francesca and left her a message.
When he arrived, his eyes first searched for Jessica, who was wiping down the bar. As if she felt the same pull, she turned to face him, and gave him a grin. Then she used her chin to point to Tony, who stood by the bar talking to a small group of women. Slade let out a breath and walked over to Jessica.
“He’s been making his pretty-girl rounds for the last few hours,” she told Slade in a low voice. “I stopped serving him about twenty minutes ago.”
“Sorry about this, Jessica.”
“Not your fault. He’s a grown man.”
“Thanks for calling me. I don’t understand what his problem is. He won—he should be happy.”
Jessica shrugged. “Maybe he’s celebrating.”
“Who the fuck knows. I called Frances. Thank God for her, ’cause the idiot only listens to her. With some luck she’ll get the message and come over. She’s awesome with him.”
Jessica went to take a customer’s order, and Slade settled down on a stool, keeping an eye on Tony and hoping Francesca would arrive soon.
—
Jessica noticed Francesca the moment she came into the Pier, and instantly she felt a wave of jealousy. Did the buxom redhead always have to be so perfectly dressed? Tonight she had on a pencil skirt, silk blouse, and high heels. Jessica hated how insecure Francesca made her feel. She didn’t want be petty, and was trying to snap out of it before Slade could notice, but damn it, did the woman sleep in Prada?
Jessica saw Francesca head over to where Slade was sitting. As the two spoke, Francesca’s hand occasionally grazed his shoulder or wrapped around his forearm. Very touchy- touchy, that one, Jessica grumbled to herself. Then she saw both of them look over at Tony; Francesca’s eyes narrowed, and she turned back to Slade and said something. Then she saw Jessica, and before Jessica had a chance to turn away, Francesca signaled to her.
“A pinot noir, please,” Francesca said when Jessica came over to them. Hello to you too, Jessica thought sourly, but she nodded and brought Francesca a glass of wine.
“What are we going to do about this bonehead?” Francesca said to Slade, continuing their conversation without acknowledging Jessica in the least.
Slade, who must’ve noticed, said, “Uh, Frances, you’ve met Jessica, haven’t you? Jess, this is Francesca.”
“Sorry—how rude of me. My mind was elsewhere,” Francesca apologized. “Hi, Jessica. It’s nice to see you.” Then she turned back to Slade. “I don’t understand. He just won—he shouldn’t be so broody.”
Just then they heard a loud thump and some expletives from over in Tony’s direction.
“What the fuck?” It was Tony’s voice.
Jessica quickly rushed over to the table where Tony and a woman were arguing. Slade and Francesca followed.
“You’re a fucking pig,” the woman shrieked.
Tony’s face clearly showed the red mark of a slap.
“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing here for the last hour?” he said in a loud voice. “You were flirting. I was buying you drinks.”
“That does not mean you can talk to me like that, jerk. Go away.”