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“No,” she says. “That would’ve been too much for you to do. I didn’t want your brain to explode all over the meal my mother spent too many hours on.”
Fire her.
It’s on the edge of my brain, however, I don’t feel like looking for a replacement and we’re packed right now with appointments. Training someone would be half-assed and this conversation is for a limited time only.
“Leave.”
“I want out of the deal.”
My face skews at her request because this is why—sorta—I didn’t want to participate in this crap in the first place. “Excuse me?”
“You gave me less than a week of my mother’s silence and you’re out of your mind if you’re getting over three months with me being your bitch.”
I flex my fingers along the side of my laptop and hold her gaze with a glower. “That was our deal.”
“And it’s broken.”
I don’t know what her fucking issue is but apparently twenty-something-year-olds consider not being made out with a problem.
“Come here, Opie.” I slam my palm on the surface of my desk and push my chair back. “We’ll get this out of the way right now.”
“Get what out of the way?”
This girl.
I knew from the moment I saw her sopping wet in my parking lot that she was going to be trouble. That she was going to be a pain in my ass.
I’ve gone over it a million times in my head.
A bad decision.
My empathy for her desperate need for a job.
Those blue eyes that begged for a break.
I’m not sure why my good deed is getting me a dose of bad karma, but I’m getting ready to rid myself of it once and for all.
“Find out.” I bow forward, pinning her with my narrowed eyes in a challenge she doesn’t want from me. “I promise you’ll feel much better when we’re done.”
Liv hesitates before sluggishly following my instruction, those blues never straying from me as if I’m going to stab her right here and now.
I nod to my desk. “Take a seat.”
“What are you gonna do?” she pushes back. “Spank me?”
“You need it,” I affirm, rising from my chair. “But we’ll save that for your next boyfriend if he’s more daring and not into missionary sex.”
She follows me with her eyes, chin raised as I step closer and place my palms on her knees, spreading them open for me to step into. “What are you doing?”
Leaning back and away from me, I fist her shirt and haul her back, keeping our chests almost flush together. “I’m kissing you, kid. Full-on, with lips, kissing the living shit out of you. Apparently, it’s a big deal and, God forbid, I go another day without you reminding me of how awful of a job I did at being your fake boyfriend.”
“You did.”
“It’s called respect, Opie. You’re a young lady and I’m?—”
“Older than you.” She does this little scoff thing that drives me absolutely fucking crazy. “Yeah, how could I forget? If I didn’t know you’ll be sure to remind me. And don’t bother kissing me. It’s not that serious anymore.”
Oh, so now it’s not serious.
