Page 42 of A Wreck, You Make Me

My first thought isthat’s fair. My second thought isI’m crazy. Becausethisis crazy. There is nothing here that will last. Nothing at all, and I honestly don’t know why he’d think that in the first place.

I close my eyes for a second to gather myself. Then, “Tell me what you said to Callie about my phone number. Because if you said anything to her,anythingabout the craziness of last week, I’m going to lose it, do you understand? She’s my best friend and?—”

“Nothing,” he replies finally.

“What?”

“Didn’t have to say anything,” he explains further. “Lifted it off her phone.”

I gasp. “So youdidsteal my number.”

“Guilty,” he murmurs, looking anything but.

I grit my teeth. “God, you’resuchan asshole.”

“And you’re pretty fucking cute when you’re being outraged about useless things.”

My heart skips a beat. “Stealing is not…” I take a deep breath before switching gears. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’d like you to leave now.”

He uses his index finger to inch the brim of his cap up. “I think you know why I’m here.”

“Just—”

“For you.”

I clench my thighs at the shiver that passes through me. “And now I’m asking you to l-leave.”

Again he completely ignores me and says, “It’s a good thing I came because now I’m debating something.”

“Debating what?”

“Whether I like you working here or not.”

“What?”

“Thought it was a coffee shop, so how bad could it be,” he murmurs, as if analyzing and concluding things in his head. “I mean, you probably need independence. You can’t just be mine. I’ve got a sister, I know. And I’m all for that, trust me. And even though this isn’t a career choice, something we’ll also chat about, and my job is temporary anyway, I thought coffee shop was doable. But I don’t think I like the idea of you getting coffee for every motherfucker out there.”

I’m speechless. I’m completely speechless right now.

“Not to mention,” he keeps going in the same tone, “that asshole you went on a date with works here too. He’s your boss. I don’t know if I like the idea of you working under him. Especially when we both know that he literally wants you there. He’s already used his position of authority to his advantage once.”

“He has not. I wanted to go?—”

“So yeah, no,” he finishes on a long breath, “I don’t think I like the idea of you serving all the assholes of Bardstown. Except when the asshole is me.”

Slowly, I unfurl my fingers from the edge of the counter. I put my hands on the glass, my fingers splayed wide, and lean forward. I have to crane my neck up to look into his eyes, but I’m okay with that. As long as he can read every emotion going through my eyes.

“I have a lot of things to say to you,” I begin. “I’m going to list them in bullet points, okay? So I don’t forget anything. Number one: I don’t care whether you like me working here or not. Or anywhere, for that matter. You don’t get to decide that for me. So I’ll be keeping both my jobs. Number two: I don’t want your job. I don’t wantanythingfrom you. I don’t even think why you’d,” I search for the correct term before settling on, “consider me for the position but no, thank you. And number three, this one’s quite possibly the most important point of all: please stop. Stop whatever it is you’re doing. Stop coming into my work. Stopcrashing my dates. Stop demanding naked lap dances from me. Just stop, okay?Stop. Lose my number and leave.”

His features are just as impassive as they were when I started my tirade, making me wonder if he heard anything I said. A second later I don’t have to because I know; he didn’t. Because he decrees, “You either quit your job at the strip club in the next seven days, or I’ll have you fired.”

“What?”

“Frombothjobs. And your occasional catering gig too.”

“You—”

“And trust me when I say, no one will touch you in this town once I make it known you’remy girlor they’ll have me to answer to.”