A stack of books drops on his desk with a bang.
“These are self-help dating books.” He holds them up one by one. “This one is well reviewed. This one is from a person with a PhD. This is by an influencer who believes in crystals and ley lines, so it's probably more on your level.”
“Ooh! Pink! Aww, McCarthy!” I beam at him. “See? You can be a nice person.”
He gets in my face. “Your dating life is the most stressful thing going on for me right now, and that includes having my little brother screw up in my office on a daily basis and ruin million-dollar satellites.”
“Choo, choo! Let’s ride that Mr. Nice Guy train all the way to the station of gratitude!” I spin to the door. “We’re bringing pastries for your employees, and we have to get in line at the bakery. Where’s your security team? I want to goover the itinerary with your head of security. After yesterday, I’m sure he’s locking everything down.”
McCarthy twists, reaching under his jacket. He pulls out a gun.
I squeak.
“I don’t need a goddamn security team. This is America. I have Smith, Wesson, and the Second Amendment. Let someone fuck with me. I wish they would.”
“Oh my gosh! Put that away. Don’t pull a gun at the doughnut shop.”
“Aw, Cupcake, did you want a hot bodyguard with a big salary and a pension to sweep you off your feet? Is that it?”
“No. Contrary to what you might think, I am in a happy, fulfilling relationship and am not in the market, especially not for a billionaire,” I say before he can mention his offer.
He barks out a derisive laugh. “I already knew that.” He tugs on the ribbon I sewed onto the sleeve of my blouse to disguise the fact that it had ripped getting caught on the bus seat. “You’re not dressed like someone who wants a billionaire.”
“You're all mentally ill. I wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”
He scoops up Truman before the dog can launch himself off the desk, berating me as he follows me to the door.
“Stop pretending like you don’t want to date a billionaire. I know where Nathan works, and I know his job description. His salary isn’t anywhere near enough to give you the life you want. You’re just like all the other girls. You’re not different.”
“Women exist on a spectrum.”
“You liked being able to buy whatever you wanted at the restaurant last night. Admit it. I saw you.”
I freeze.
“You were watching me?” Did he see me hike up my bra when I thought no one was around? “You can’t spy on people. You need to mind your own business.”
“You stuffed my credit card down your bra.”
I huff. “They were rushing me. I put the receipt, several complimentary mints, and a couple toothpicks down there too. That doesn’t make you special.”
“You’re sending mixed signals, Cupcake.”
He pulls on his coat. “You like having a nice car, nice things. You like when people buy you expensive presents.” Gray eyes settle on me. “If I buy you a car, will you leave me alone for the day?”
“I don’t want a car.” I turn up my nose.
I do want a car. I desperately want a car. But I will walk five miles backward in heels before accepting anything from McCarthy.
“Liar. Women are so predictable. You want the car, but you want me to think you’re not a gold digger.”
“One, buddy, I’m in a relationship.” I thrust my left hand at him. “Two, I’m not stupid.”
My phone goes off.
“Which of her moronic exes is it, I wonder? And she insists she’s not stupid.”
I feel my face get hot. “Three—and yes, I’m ignoring your toxic baiting behavior because that’s how you deal with children—three, I work with billionaires all day. I know how to do math, and it ain’t impressing me much. You buying me a car is like a normal man buying a girl a muffin from Starbucks. Sweet but not impressive.”
