“Oh please, there’s nothing to steal.” She bent down and pulled a jar of peanut butter out of the fridge. He watched in fascination as she stuck a spoon into it and then popped it into her mouth.
“Dinner?” She extended her spoon to him in a sarcastic manner. “I didn’t think so,” she snapped, and pulled the spoon back.
“Is that what you’re eating for dinner?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Just from the jar like that?”
“Yup.”
“Well, that’s not very nutritious, is it?” He glared at the spoon as she stuck it in her mouth and sucked the creamy, brown spread off it.
“I’ll have you know,” she turned the jar over in her hands, “peanut butter is full of calcium, magnesium and is high in carbs and protein. It’s practically a balanced meal.”
He looked at her thoughtfully and then walked over to her fridge and peered in. It was empty. “Nothing?” he asked, straightening up again.
“Nope,” she said casually. She was swinging her legs and her shoes fell to the floor with a thud. His eyes traveled down to her shoes, but lingered momentarily on her feet where one of her toes peeped out of a hole in her stockings. She wiggled it at him.
“What? Not going to criticize my apparel again?” she asked sarcastically. “No‘Why do you have a hole in your stockings? It’s very irritating. Go get another pair!’?” She was putting on a strange voice that he guessed was meant to be his.
Their eyes met again and he held her gaze. She had a defiant, challenging look in her eyes, as if she no longer cared what he thought. As if she didn’t give a shit about him . . .
His stomach knotted. He straightened up and walked to the door. But stopped before leaving. “I’ll see you at six thirty sharp,” he said.
“What?” The word sounded slurred through a mouthful of peanut butter. “But you fired me!” she said.
“Consider yourself rehired.” He turned around and looked at her.
“Huh?” Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him. “I don’t understand.”
He shook his head. “Trust me. Neither do I.” He was about to walk out the door but stopped once more. “Is that really what you’re eating for dinner? Peanut butter?”
She nodded.
“Not on bread?”
She shook her head. “No bread. But I am closing my eyes and imagining it’s a pepperoni pizza.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, Miss Granger.”
And then he left.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Poppy
I watched him as he walked away. He stopped momentarily to look at the lock on my door again, and I rolled my eyes. What the hell had just happened? He’d fired me and then rehired me so quickly that my head was spinning. My pigeon, as if directed to, gave a loud coo, on cue.
I turned and looked over at him. “I agree. I agree.”
I stood in the middle of my room and looked at my door. For a moment I considered running after him and demanding to know why he was so weird? Why he blew hot and cold? Why one minute he was firing me, the next he was almost kissing me—at least, I thought that’s what had happened. Then he was walking me to my room, criticizing my food and rehiring me?
I walked over to my window and looked out. He was talking on his phone and striding to his car. That was the other thing about him, he didn’t walk like other people did. There was such an urgency to his walk, as if he was always running late for something. I continued to watch him as he climbed into his car and drove off. I watched until I could no longer see his lights.
“What the actual fuck?” I said out loud. I didn’t even know if I wanted to work for him. In fact, I knew I didn’t. I mean, screw him. Who did he think he was, hiring and firing me and then rehiring me like I was some kind of puppet that he could do what he wanted with?
I started getting ready for bed and was just about to climb in when a knock on the door made me jump. “Oh God,” I moaned. The only person who knocked on my door was the landlord when the rent was late, which it was. I momentarily thought about pretending I wasn’t here, but then I heard someone call out. It wasn’t the landlord.
