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Lucy furrowed her brows. The confusion on her face had discomfort traveling through my body.
“Not grounds for firing unless she’s damaging the business by hurting your feelings.” She cocked a brow as if to say, “Well, is she?”
“She rearranged the furniture.”
“In the bar? I didn’t notice anything different when I stopped by before opening hours yesterday.”
“The break room. She took the chair from my office and put it in there.”
Her lips twitched. “And what did she do with that chair?”
“Turned it into a unicorn.”
Laughter erupted from her thin frame.
“Are you high?”
“Not an actual unicorn. She stuck a cone on the top of the chair with frosting and tied spaghetti noodles to the back of the chair at its spine.”
“Changes to”—she snickered—“the break room don’t count.”
“She’s argumentative.”
“Last I checked, it’s a restaurant, not a dictatorship.”
“Well, she—”
“Bastian, what’s really going on? You’re grasping at straws here.”
I paused a beat. “I’m attracted to her, and employees are off limits.”
There.
I’d said it.
Not the whole it, but the part that wouldn’t leave me bare.
“You’re not going to fire her.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not going to fire the poor girl because you can’t control your penis.” She tilted her head to the side, goddamn comprehension filling those flawless features of hers. “…unless it’s more than your penis you can’t control.”
Fuck me sideways with discount lube.
Why couldn’t Asher marry someone dumber?
“No one under eighty says penis. It’s dick or cock. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Was I proud of lying?
Only if it worked.
She crossed her arms. “Don’t play dumb.”
“He’s not playing.” Asher strolled to the fridge with just a towel around his waist. “He is dumb. Not an act.”
A few droplets of water slid down his chest, and I caught Lucy eyeing them.
