Page 11 of Property of my Boss

My brows narrow. “Would you have had to talk about them so much if he was meeting your needs?”

She pauses and holds her stare with mine in the quiet hum of the country music station I keep low in the background while I work. “Yeah,” she chuckles. “You’re good at playing pretend. You’re not at all like most men who run when they hear the word emotions.”

“I’m terrible with them, but I know from experience that when I’m in the wrong relationship, everything is a struggle. What I want, what she needs. I can see when I’m forcing something that doesn’t make sense.”

She tilts her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder. “Or… relationships are hard work.”

“That’s a misunderstood statement. Talking through things and having two lives while managing your own problems is difficult, but staying in a constant fight and dealing with disrespect under the guise of ‘working on a relationship’ is bullshit.”

Her light blue eyes roll to the side. “If you know so much about relationships, why aren’t you married?”

I laugh and scrub my hand down over my beard as I lean back in my chair with my cup of coffee. “Probably because I’m too good at handling women’s emotions.”

She chuckles under her breath. “So you don’t date at all?”

“I’ve dated here and there, but my focus has been on other things.”

“Like robbing banks?”

“Like robbing banks.” I nod and laugh a little as I sip the dark roast slowly. “For the record, though, I did imagine a life a lot different than this.”

“Yeah?” she says with a nod. “What did you imagine?”

“Always figured I’d use the skills I’d accumulated to start a contracting business. I really wanted to build houses.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Did for a while, then my grandpa got really sick and I spent all my time taking care of him, neglecting everything else. I lost people’s trust, the bank took the business, but I still needed money for his surgery, so I started making bad decisions.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, as though maybe there’s a part of her that understands, though I’m sure that’s my brain tricking itself. “Are you happy now? With this life?”

“What’s happy?” I shrug. “I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and this campground keeps me busy. That’s more than a lot of folks.”

“Right,” she nods and grabs a box of muffins from her bag, pulls off the lid, and passes it toward me, the scent of banana and cinnamon wafting over, “but there’s more to life than surviving. Don’t you want a family?”

“I’m too old for all that shit. Surviving is the best I have at this point.” I take a muffin from the container and hand it back to her. “When did you find time to bake fresh muffins?”

She nods sweetly, taking one out for herself. “I didn’t. I bought them at the bakery and now I’m passing them off as my own. See,” she smirks, “we’re both criminals.”

“Definitely.” I grin, warmth spreading through my chest the wider she smiles. “We’re both criminals. You going to be able to handle the fallout of all this?”

“Of ripping muffins off as my own? I assume you have my back.”

“I don’t know. You’re in a small town. Word gets out and your reputation is mud forever.”

She bites back a smile. “I mean, you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“Depends.” I shrug. “What’s in it for me?”

She looks me up and down, her tongue meeting her bottom lip as her mouth opens and closes again. “I could make it worth your while.”

My cock thumps against my zipper as I stare back.

Is she flirting with me, or is she a filthy little princess playing games? Either way, I’m getting the feeling she needs to learn her lesson.

“And how would you make it worth my while, princess?” I set my coffee on my desk and stand slowly, my cock clearly visible against the leg of my jeans. I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing, but my body keeps moving like instinct is winning over rational thought, and I don’t know how to stop it.

She swallows hard, her gaze drawing up to mine. “When was the last time you were with a woman?”