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She flew around the apartment, straightening things up for the few minutes it took Matt to walk up four flights of stairs and knock on the door. There were still dirty dishes in the sink and the kitchen was a mess, but she couldn’t do anything about that. At least the living room was kind of clean. She’d steer him there.
Callie pulled open the door, annoyed that Matt wasn’t even breathing hard after that long walk up. He wouldn’t have taken the elevator. She knew that because the damn thing was out of service at the moment with no signs of being fixed despite the hazard it caused for those living on the upper floors.
“I was just about to go out,” she admitted. “So, you had better really only take five minutes.”
“Going to another job interview?” He looked her up and down and she burned under the intensity of his gaze.
“No,” she mumbled. “Not in jeans and a sweater I’m not.”
“You never know. Some people don’t require a formal setting or attire.”
“Still. I would at least wear black pants. Even if they were yoga pants.”
Matt got this funny look on his face and she realized he was probably imagining her in yoga pants, which would undoubtedly be tight and outline the curves of her ass and the shape of her legs. I’m an idiot.
“Anyway…” Matt stepped in. He glanced around and slipped out of black leather shoes that were so expensive they probably cost more than her share of the monthly rent.
“Yeah, I know it’s not a nice place. You don’t need to tell me that or comment on the overall shittiness of it or how much worse it is than your place or how shocking to find out it is that you had relations with someone who is clearly so out of your income bracket.”
A wry smile slowly spread across Matt’s face. Lord, he’s handsome. Far too handsome. Why does he have to look so good? She didn’t dare breathe in. She knew exactly what he’d smell like. God, she knew what he tasted like. Everything had changed between them. I’ve had him inside me. It just proved she was right in quitting her job. There was no way she could work with him after what they’d done.
“I wasn’t going to,” he assured her. “If you’re done trying to push me away, there is something I really want to tell you.”
“If you came here to try and convince me to take my job back, that’s not going to work.”
“Nope. Not here for that either. HR is already trying to find a replacement. I don’t think they’d give you your job back even if you asked nicely.”
“Oh.” Callie felt strangely deflated. She hadn’t been hoping for her job back, but it hurt, when it really shouldn’t, to hear just how loud and clear that door slammed in her face.
“Can I sit down? Will you offer me a glass of water?”
“No. I- you can sit, but I’m not giving you a drink. I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t have to wait on your every need.”
He nodded. “Alright. That’s settled.” It was unnerving to see that though he kept a straight face, his eyes sparkled like he was laughing at her on the inside.
Callie turned and led him past the kitchen with the overflowing sink of dirty dishes, hoping he didn’t look in, to the living room. She pointed at the couch, which was a sectional she and Chantara got for free. The bonded leather had peeled away in spots, so they’d devised a system of old quilts to cover it. Through careful tucking and continuous adjustment, the blankets stayed in place. It actually looked kind of cool, in a really shabby sort of way. At least the thing was comfortable.
Matt sunk down without a second glance at it. He didn’t look around the living room, at the vintage oil paintings or the area rug or the small TV and beat up stand. He didn’t stare at the coffee table, which had been repainted but was badly in need of another coat. He waited until Callie sat, a safe distance away. His gaze remained fixed on her.
She wanted to squirm under the heat of his stormy eyes, but she didn’t. She remained seated, back straight, hands tucked between her legs.
“So, set that timer.” She didn’t know why she was being rude. It’s a defense mechanism.
“I don’t need to set it.”
“Yes, you do. You said you would.”
“I know, I said I would, but I don’t need to. What I have to say won’t take me five minutes.”
“Alright, spit it out then.” She held his gaze, even though she wanted to look away, at anything else, anywhere else. Her stomach hollowed to the point where it felt like she might have eaten bricks for breakfast. Or glass. Or a damn lead pipe.
