AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Well, apparently that's what it takes to move to the US these days," I respond with a nonchalant shrug.
"Ugh, she should marry you instead."
"Yes, that sounds like exactly what everyone wants." Well, me at least. But not for the reason she thinks.
She rifles through her handbag for her ChapStick. "She warned me off you, you know?"
"What? When?" And why?
"When we went to the restroom, she asked me if I was involved with you. By the time I stopped laughing three minutes later, she finally got the message. But that didn't stop her from telling me that you're a horndog caring about nothing but what's between a woman's legs."
I drop my mouth in mock shock. "Rude. I'm a tit man and everyone knows it. So, what did you say?"
Her lips stretch over his teeth for a minute as she lines her lips with the ChapStick. "I told her that kissing you felt like kissing my brother, but even worse."
"My ego's taking a beating today." I frown and fidget with my belt buckle as I think about what Leanne's just told me. "I wonder why she cares."
She grins and punches me on the arm, a little harder than I actually thought she could punch. "Yeah, right! You don't know?"
"Should I?"
A sigh, and a patronizing pat on the shoulder she just punched. "You're really fucking dumb for a billionaire."
I have the distinct feeling that I'm being insulted. "You'd actually be surprised how dumb billionaires are. But no, I have no idea why she cares."
"You will. Until then, it's a good thing you're good looking."
My car shows up and I gesture at Kevin not to worry about getting out. I open the door and help Leanna into the car. She sighs and leans against the seat. "You're going to make someone such a wonderful husband someday."
I wait until the taillights are just dots in the distance before I tuck my hands in my pockets and turn to start my walk home. My nightly walks are the most important part of my day, a jog first thing in the morning and a long, quiet walk to go over the thoughts at the end of the day before I go to sleep.
There's a cough in the alleyway. I look up to see Clarissa, in her heels, carrying two large trash bags toward the curb. Toward me. I have to rub my eyes to make sure I haven't inadvertently fallen asleep from a little too much cognac. But I haven't. She gets to the end of the alley and steps into the light, stopping in her tracks when she sees me.
Some primitive masculine instinct inside me compels me to walk over and take the bags from her. But she holds on tight, trying to turn her body to block me,
"Let go of the trash bag, Clarissa."
She just tugs on the bag, trying to free it from my hold. "Youlet go, Matthias."
"I'm just trying to help you!" I knew she was a bitch, but was she always this stubborn?
She kicks her leg out with a grunt, and I can't tell if it's out of frustration or if she's actually trying to kick me. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't rememberaskingyou to help me."
"Youwillbe sorry when the bags rips and those cans spill all over your precious Ferragamo's!"
"So then I'll be sorry! I'd rather that than ask for your help!"
I huff and turn my body so that my back is against her chest, and block her as I yank one of the bags, pulling it out of her hand. She catches on quickly; she turns away from me, and swings the other bag away.
In an almost Stooges-worthy sequence, both bags rip at the same time, just as I'd predicted and what looks like a million cans spill out all over the street.
"Shit!" she yells and throws what's left of her bag on the ground and drops to her knees. I watch, openmouthed, as she starts gathering the cans closest to her into a pile that keeps toppling over and falling all over the ground again.
"Clarissa, stop. Let me do it. It's my fault."
She doesn't say anything, just spins around on her ruined shoes, reaching for the can behind her.
Guilt creeps in, settling on my skin, to see her this way. I kneel down next to her, grabbing the cans she can't reach.
