Page 57 of Men or Paws

Just another day in the life of Rocco Romano, taking advantage of anyone who crossed his path, not even considering the repercussions of his actions.

I hesitated. “Never mind. I don’t expect you to remember it.”

“July tenth, three years ago,” Rocco said, matter of factly.

I just stared at him in amazement. “Yes . . .”

How did he pull that date out of thin air like that? I knew it was correct because I wasn’t going to forget the only day I was ever fired from a job.

Rocco set down his fork, leaned forward in his chair, and pointed at me. “I knew it was you! You were the pain-in-the-butt chef at the restaurant that night!”

I jerked my head back, then tapped my finger on my chest. “Me? You were the one who was a huge pain in the rear end. I never had a customer so rude in all my life.”

“Rude?”

“Yes, rude. Demanding that I fix that meal a certain way. And then you had the nerve of complaining to the manager like a big baby.”

“I was not a big baby,” Rocco said.

“Oh, boo-hoo, the poor entitled movie star didn’t get his way, so he had to use his fame to get what he wanted.”

Rocco was about to take a sip of his wine, but stopped and set the glass back down on the table. “Seriously? That’s what you think?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. What did you do, offer the manager a private tour of the movie studios in exchange for firing me? No, wait, he got to join you on the red carpet of the Hollywood premiere, right? Unless you just paid him cash.”

Rocco stared at me. “Wait—you got fired for that?”

I laughed scornfully. “Like you didn’t know.” I grasped my wine glass and took a giant swig.

“I didn’t! How would I even know that?” He shook his head in frustration and gulped his drink again, this time finishing off the glass. He reached across the table and helped himself to more wine.

Unfortunately, I reached for the bottle at the same time, bumping hands with him.

We both yanked our hands back in unison.

Rocco gestured to the bottle. “Go ahead.”

I shook my head. “No, you go.”

“Ladies first.”

“Spoiled Hollywood celebrities first.”

Rocco blew out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gripped the bottle and practically filled my glass to the top. “Drink up. Maybe it will help you come to your senses.”

I wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response.

Rocco poured himself some wine and set the bottle down.

We both took sips at the same time, our gazes locked.

Then we set our wine glasses down, synchronized again.

Why did he look upset?

I was the only one there who had the right to be mad.

“That was wrong that he fired you,” Rocco finally said. “I should buy that restaurant just so I can fire his ass. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, honest. I thought you could bend the rules a little when you found out the reason why I needed the food prepared that way.”