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Ummm…
“What?” I stretched the word out for a solid second-and-a-half, and I couldn’t even help the laugh of disbelief that bubbled out from my lips, straight into his face. It sounded bratty, full of attitude, but I was seriously confused as to what the hell Iain was saying right now. “You… don’t think I should work here?” I repeated, eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
He prioritized paying the bill, laying two crisp hundreds onto the check and flipping the holder closed before answering my question.
“I don’t think this place is exactly your speed,” he said, lighting an instant fire to my cheeks.
Oh.
Okay…
My anger mounted as I watched him tuck his fancy leather wallet back into his jacket, looking so calm, at ease—like a shiny fucking Armani ad as I stood there quietly fuming.
“And what exactly is my speed?” I demanded, because I knew what he was implying. “The job equivalent of a bouncy house?”
Iain glanced up at me. His expression was blank, but I could see the wide planes of his chest expanding under his shirt as he drew in a breath then let it go, sighing like he was exasperated with me, which I very much resented because he was the one doing the provoking right now, not me. So what the hell?
It was one of many questions I had at this point, so when the next second ticked by without Iain saying anything, I barreled on.
“Also, remind me how this is any of your business to begin with, because aside from the fact that we haven’t seen each other in five years, you haven’t even said hi to me yet tonight,” I pointed out hotly. “So why do you think it’s okay for you to march into my life and try to tell me what I’m allowed to do with it? Do you think you’re like… the one who’s in charge of me now that we live in the same city? Am I supposed to have you sign a permission slip every time I want to try something new?” I questioned, getting breathless from taking exactly zero breaths during my tirade. My chest was heaving now as Iain simply watched me in silence, like he was waiting out a toddler throwing a tantrum.
God.
It was mortifying, and so infuriating the way he just sat there completely expressionless, half-reclined in his seat, in no rush to speak till he knew for sure I was done.
“To be perfectly honest, Holland, I come here often with clients,” he finally said. “And I don’t want my concern to be with you every time I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
His concern? What—?
“If you’re talking about tables being rude to me or trying to hit on me, I can handle that stuff on my own. I froze up in front of your friend because I was surprised to see you,” I said, pausing exactly one beat for effect, “but otherwise, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I definitely don’t need you to chaperone me while I’m at work. For the record, I’m twenty-two, which actually means I’ve been an adult for four whole years now.”
Iain’s thumb stroked the side of his glass as he eyed me.
“I don’t know how true that is if you had a 9PM curfew up until five weeks ago.”
I stared.
Okay… wow.
I took a moment to boil over my brother and the fact that he’d clearly shared that embarrassing tidbit with Iain, but I indulged for about a second before I forced myself to fire back.
“Well, working here has really helped me make up for lost time,” I said, injecting a tinge of mischief in my voice as I alluded to all the naughty late-night hijinks that I had definitely not been partaking in, but Iain didn’t need to know that.
Especially not when the suggestion of it made his jaw visibly tighten.
Huh.
A little thrill coursed through my veins as I watched the hollows of his cheeks pulse. I hadn’t quite expected this reaction, and it had me suddenly flushed, suppressing the urge to bite my lip as I wondered exactly what Iain was imagining right now about his best friend’s little sister.
At the very least, he was picturing me drinking and partying.
But a twisted sliver of me hoped his imagination was running wilder than that—picturing me grinding at clubs with strangers, writhing against a wall in the bathroom with some guy’s mouth on my neck and his big hands squeezing all over my body. Wishful thinking, but I told myself it was possible.
Especially when I heard the seriously panty-soaking gravel in Iain’s voice as he said, “Is that right?”
God.
He wasn’t giving me much in terms of conversation, but what little he said still managed to go straight between my thighs and render me speechless for a second.
