Page 89 of Things I Read About

I want to sayYes, sir.I want to say it so badly my throat aches. But he’s a jerk—a very hot, broken jerk—so I’m done flirting with him. I just nod.

He finally relaxes, with one corner of his mouth hitched up. “Can't believe you tried to take on Katniss Everdeen all by yourself. You're crazy, girl.”

Maybe I should be happy that he’s joking around with me, but I can’t get past his tone. I’ve heard it my whole life. It’s a voice you use for the kid sister, the little genius, the cute sidekick.

My eyes start to sting, so I pull my knee away.

“I can clean it myself.”

“Right, duh. Of course. I’ll start on the living room.”

“No.” I don’t want him to see my mess. Messes, plural. Actually, I don’t want him to see me, right now either. I turn toward the first-aid kit. “Regina will be here tomorrow morning, she’ll help me.”

“I have to get the glass out of the walkway, or it’ll track everywhere. Plus, you’ll probably walk across it barefoot and not realize it until you’re bleeding out on the stairs.”

I pretend to laugh. “Okay.”

“Hey.” Nate’s voice is much gentler. “I was wrong. You didn’t leave the gate open. It’s busted.”

I take my time getting the bandages I need, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll call Leonard, too. He’ll fix it first thing.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I don’t look up, but I lighten my tone. “Yup. Just a hazard, right?”

Nate takes a step toward me, but he stops himself. “Right,” he agrees, then he goes down the hall to find the vacuum.

For the first time since he arrived back in my life, I wish he’d keep on walking. Out the door and away from me. Because having him near, feeling the electricity between us, the pull in my chest… it’s starting to feel a lot like heartbreak.

One-sided heartbreak.

Unbalanced.

Because I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same.

22

NATE

Don’t look.

Do not look at her chest, you spineless weakling.

Every single morning, I go through this agony. Her tight little outfits and her big bright eyes.

I check my texts again.

This job is taking entirely too long. The sooner I can get to Chicago, away from this heat and the wide blue sky—not a single cloud in sight—and away from this girl, the better.

Not just because she keeps distracting me with her perfect curves and surprising personality. I can ignore all that. She is a little liar and liars do not get second chances.

The tremors are the real problem.

The tunnel vision and squeezing in my chest.

I have to get a handle on myself before I lose my job, not to mention my ownership stake in the firm.

No new messages.Ugh.