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She rolls her eyes. “Do you have to argue with me about everything?”
“Says the brunette strutting into my office like she owns the place!” I gasp.
“I’m your assistant! Why can’t I walk into your office?” She gives me a look as if I’m talking a different language, every muscle in her face etching with defiance. Her blue eyes are glimmering with a dare, and I press my lips together to try to ignore the fluttering feeling she seems to ignite in me.
She makes life really hard, but she also makes it so fucking fun.
I like how she challenges me, how she keeps me on my toes, and I even like it when she tries to outsmart me with her witty mouth. It’s frustrating because I can’t admit it, but every time she does, I just want to kiss her. A thought I really need to stop having.
“A normal person would knock.”
“I’m not a normal person.” She shrugs.
“No argument there.”
“Oh, whatever,” she replies, unfazed. “Look, just give me a shot. Trust me. I promise it won’t be a kids’ party.” Her eyes search mine with hope when she emphasizes the words, and all argument seems to vanish ice in a fire. All I know is I want to give it to her.
“No clowns,” I tell her with a dark gaze as a lousy attempt to control just a little of it.
“Pinky swear.” She childishly holds up her pinky, and I laugh.
