Page 35 of Bean
“Oh, that’s good. I like that.”
“Awesome. And now we repeat it until it sticks. Once upon a time, there was a cute young man who worked as a cook in a bar. His name was Bean.”
CHAPTER TEN
JAREK
Working for Ivy was a lot less stressful than my job at my former company, but my to-do list was a sloping hill that was about to get bigger since she was thinking about opening a facility to properly house teens who had nowhere to go.
The paperwork was a million-mile-long trail, and outside of the financials, part of what she wanted me to do was connect with state agencies for permits. It was way outside my wheelhouse, but as terrifying as it was, it finally felt like I was giving something back. I wasn’t some cog in a machine that could be easily terminated without mercy because they saw no value in what I did for them.
I was not only working for my best friend, but we were making a difference. And that mattered to me. I’d never really been at risk of becoming one of those teens, but I knew people who hadn’t even begun to consider who they were deep down until they were out of college for fear of losing support from their families.
I wanted to live in a world where that didn’t exist anymore. Which was a pipe dream, probably, but goddamn, if I could do something good with the rest of my life, I wanted it to be this.
Especially if I was going to spend the rest of my life in my little townhouse, tragically single, with nothing more than a cat for company. And maybe a fish. And I was kind of leaning toward a turtle at the moment. Their pointed little faces were so cute.
The drive to work was short, and while the street parking and the hill were a bitch, it felt good to stretch the ache out of my calves. I was only slightly out of breath when I made it through the front door, and Ivy was already there, leaning on her assistant’s desk as she scrolled through her phone.
“On time is late,” she said. Then she looked up at me, and her eyes widened. “You know what they call that in Australia?”
“Call what?” The hell was she walking about?
“Pash-rash.”
I blinked at her, and she gestured at my neck.Oh, right. Yeah.
I hadn’t seen Bean in a little while, but my skin was still a bit tender from how long we’d been kissing. Bean had stubble, which was great while he was devouring the skin over my pulse, but it was a little red and irritated despite the moisturizer I’d used over the last few days.
Pressing my palm against the spot, I walked to my desk and dropped my bag off to the side. “So?—”
“Nope,” she said, crossing the room and dropping primly into the chair beside me. “Who is he? What’s his name? How big is his dick? Does he have a dick?”
I covered my face with both hands. “We’re not doing this today.Fuck off.”
“When have I ever fucked off when there’s hot gossip to be had?”
She was right. The answer was never. I sat back in my chair and folded my arms over my chest. “It’s Bean.”
“Adorable Army guy.”
I nodded. “Yes, he has a penis. No, I’m not going to tell you how big it is.”
“But you’re dating him now.”
I choked on my own spit. “Uh. No, honey. I’m not dating anyone now. Or ever again, probably. I mean, look at me.”
“Silver bear hottie?”
“Silver bear is not a thing.”
She grinned. “Oh, it so is. And I mean, if he’s being a judgmental dick about your hair or your body, tell me. I will not fucking stand for that.”
I almost laughed at the thought of Bean having a single judgmental bone in his body. Granted, everything he said or did could have been bullshit. It could have been one big mind game to mess with me, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t that good of an actor.
I’d seen the way his brain was—the way his disability affected him. No one was that good at pretending just for some dick. “He’s really, really nice, but he’s kind of new at this.”
“This?”