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Damn it. I’m in so much trouble.
* * *
I havedark circles under my eyes, my muscles ache, and I want to nap on my lunch break, but instead, I’m headed to meet Bentley for lunch. I worried I’d be nervous, but I’m too fucking exhausted to even care.
Being in charge of certain programs has its benefits, but last night, when a server crashed, I was the lucky employee to get the call. I ended up being at work until two in the morning, asleep around three, and awake again at six.
I feel like death. I’m not even positive my heels are the same color. One might be navy blue while the other is black. I don’t know and don’t care.
My stomach rumbles when I pull into my parking spot just a few cars down from Bentley’s black Range Rover. I could get down with his heated leather seats right about now.
I lean my head forward on the steering wheel and close my eyes for just a moment to ease the burning inside them. Then, I nearly jump out of my seat when someone knocks on my window.
Bentley is bending down and staring at me with a raised brow.
Shit. Did I fall asleep?
One glance at the clock in my car says yes, but only for a few minutes. It’s five after one, so I’m not terribly late.
I unbuckle and grab my purse before opening my door. In my haste, I don’t realize that Bentley is still standing there, and the handle hits his right hip.
“Fuck, Kenzie,” he growls.
I finish getting out and quickly shut my door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just been—”
“Doubtful,” he says, cutting me off.
I shove at his chest, and he stumbles into my car. “Listen here, asshole. I’ve had one hell of a night and day. I don’t need any shit from you. Not today.”
He raises a brow. “Late night at the bar again?”
“Fuck. You.”
I reach for my door again and barely have it open when he pushes it back closed.
I’m so angry and tired and overwhelmed that my eyes fill with tears that I don’t want. Not now, and especially not in front of this man.
He reaches for me, but I flinch back.
“I’m sorry, Kenzie. I thought you were standing me up, and I got angry. I didn’t realize you’d had a bad day.”
I glance up at him, wanting to stay pissed, but his swirling blue eyes capture me, and a bit of the tension leaves my body.
“I’m hungry,” I say.
He steps to the side and gestures toward the restaurant. “Then, let’s go inside.”
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t touch me, doesn’t do anything other than wait for me to make my choice.
I should leave, but I smell pasta and bread, and I need sustenance badly. And caffeine.
Fuck. I might as well stay and make him pay for my meal.
I lock my car and move ahead of him. When we get to the front of the brick building, he reaches for the wooden door and holds it open for me.
A “thank you” sits on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I stay silent. He hasn’t earned niceties from me yet.
A host in a white collared dress shirt and black bowtie stares at Bentley. “Mr. Abbott, I thought you’d left.”
