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“It was about Lucy being a bitch and talking to people in ways she shouldn’t.”
“Never seemed to bother you before.”
“It’s always bothered me.”
Yeah, that he didn’t like. “You should have told me. You want her gone?”
“Not right now. I don’t have time to do her job as well.”
“We’ll hire someone else.”
“Actually, I’ve got another plan for that—”
“Grady? Sorry to interrupt, but we need you,” Nate, the head bartender, interrupted them.
“Go take care of that,” Steele ordered. That would give him time to do what he really wanted.
Check out whoever Grady had in his office. Who had him twisted up in knots.
* * *
Effie wasready for the door to open, and as soon as it did, she stepped forward, her finger up in the air. “Listen up, mister. You might be stronger than me, smarter than me, and richer than me, definitely prettier than me, but that does not mean you have the right to lock me up!”
She stilled as she got close to the broad chest before her. A wide chest that was even bigger than she’d been expecting. In fact, all of him was larger than she’d been expecting.
Because the man standing in front of her was not the one she’d been expecting.
Oops.
“Never been called pretty before.”
She gazed up into a hard face. One that was striking. Intriguing. Certainly sexy.
Not as classically handsome as Grady’s face. And most certainly not pretty. But that didn’t make it any less mesmerizing.
Also, slightly terrifying. Because this man was enormous. He looked like he could squash her with one of his pinky fingers and not even break into a sweat.
She stumbled back a step, then let out a wince as pain shot through her back.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Hunky-dory.”
Hunky-dory? Really? Could she be any more of a dork?
She studied him. This had to be Steele. And he really suited his name. Because there didn’t look to be an inch of him that wasn’t hard.
Hmm. There might be a few inches. Her gaze dropped to his crotch.
“No, you’re not okay, Spitfire. I don’t know you, but you’ve already gotten up in my face with your finger, which you won’t be doing again. You’ve called me pretty and a whole bunch of other things. Plus, you’ve just lied to me. And all of those things are spelling trouble for you.”
“I well . . . I don’t even know you!”
“No, you do not. But what you need to learn very quickly is that I don’t appreciate having a finger in my face. Or being lied to. Especially when you are not okay.”
“I was expecting someone else to walk through the door and . . . well, it was a little white lie.”
“A little white lie.”
