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“He was talking about the scotch, you dickwad,” she giggles, nudging me in the side. “And this from the girl who wants Uber to branch into sex toys?”
My eyes widen. “Hey, we can combine ideas!” I gasp. “We’ll offer everything!”
“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs. “Do you still want that job?” she adds as we walk out through the lobby.
“God, no.” I shake my head vigorously. “I’m not getting my titties out for anyone. Don’t even think it,” I warn when she opens her mouth.
“Fine, I won’t say it,” she promises. “But at least this made you forget about all that for a little while.”
“I guess,” I concede.
“And if I can make deliveries topless, then surely you can handle Brix.” She gives me an encouraging smile when I don’t answer. “You can do it, Han. It’s all about confidence. I was nervous as anything when I knocked on that door, but he didn’t know that.”
I nod slowly. She’s right. If I pretend it doesn’t bother me, then he’ll lose interest and move onto something—or someone—else. I just need to get through tomorrow without letting him get to me.
Maybe I can do this.Chapter 7HannahI can’t do this.
I gulp down the last of my third cup of coffee, catching sight of my reflection in the backsplash behind the stove. I frown as I look down. I’m dressed? It can’t be a good thing that I don’t remember that at all. I guess I must be more exhausted than I thought. After spending most of the night watching the numbers tick over on my alarm clock, I finally crawled out of bed at seven. I’m on the verge of keeling over, and probably a serious health and safety risk. Under any other circumstance, I’d consider calling in sick, but I know today, it’s not an option. Not the day after he caught me in his room.
Again.
I push the doubt out of my mind and shuffle mindlessly out to my car. I laugh and slam my fists down hard against the steering wheel when the damn thing doesn’t start, because this is fucking perfect. The day’s barely even begun and I’m already wishing it were over.
“Stupid fucking piece of shit car,” I yell.
I’m irritated, even though it’s my own fault for not booking it in for a service months ago. I knew those flashing lights meant something. I could blame lack of time and money but most of it was just pure laziness on my part. I fumble through my bag from my phone, then I call the only person I can think of who’ll help without me having to hear about it for the next six months. Lou.
Why do I feel like I only ever call her to whine or because I need help?
“Any chance I can take your car to work?” I ask in a small voice.
“It finally gave up on you, huh?” Lou chuckles. “You’re in luck. I’m literally just passing your street. I’ll be there in five.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later I see her familiar shitbox—albeit a more reliable one than mine—pull up outside the front of my townhouse. I sink into the seat and give her a grateful smile, which she returns with a sympathetic one.
“Dare I ask why are you passing my street at eight on a morning that I know you’re not working?” I ask skeptically.
Lou is less of a morning person than I am, so there would need to be a pretty good incentive to get her up this early. And if I know her at all, that incentive was probably well-built, male, and rich.
“I was at the gym,” she says innocently.
“Which gym?” I ask. “Forgetting the fact that you never go to the gym, there’d have to be fifty of them closer to you.”
“True, but not all of them have Harry Pearson working at them,” she says, flashing me a grin.
“And who the hell is Harry Pearson?” I ask.
She gawks at me. “Are you kidding me? Hot bodybuilder, built like a tank? Last years’ bachelor? None of that is ringing any bells?”
“Nothing is ringing anything right now, because staying awake is an achievement in itself,” I grumble. Lou raises her eyebrows at me so I elaborate. “I’ve barely had any sleep, I’m late for work and to top it all off, I’ll probably have to face Brix today. Besides, is this the nineties? Who still watches that crap?”
“Only me and every other red blooded woman,” Lou grumbles. “We’ll discuss the fact that you need to broaden your cinematic tastes later—”
“Cinematic?” I repeat with a grin. “I bet the guy can’t even spell his name.”
“You’ll regret badmouthing him when I don’t invite you to our wedding,” she grumbles. “Anyway, back to the whole point of this conversation is that I slipped him a business card.” She winks at me. “I foresee a very special delivery tonight.”
