Page 16 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

What in the holy fuck does that mean?

Miraculously, I didn’t see Fitz the rest of the day.

I’m genuinely shocked, seeing as how he’s never seemed to listen to me before.

I’m the last one out of the office tonight—per usual—and just as I am locking up, headlights illuminate the front of the building before I hear a car stop behind me.

My heart rate picks up when I remember I never pulled my car closer to the door before it got dark out. A decision I’m currently regretting.

I turn around, giving myself a little pep talk to look confident as I walk to my car and not as scared as I actually am. Then I see that it’s Fitz in his dumb-ass Range Rover and all emotions switch to annoyance.

“Get in,” he calls through the rolled down window. I walk in his direction, not because I intend to get in , but because my car is parked behind where he’s stopped.

“Um…not no, but hell no.” I smirk at him humorlessly and walk around the front of his vehicle to get to mine. I pull my keys from my bag just as I hear his door shut.

“Get in the car, Trouble.” He closes the distance between us and I spin around, my eyes wide.

“What’s your damage, Fitzgerald? What part of ‘no’ do you not understand?”

“I understand it, I just don’t accept it. You can continue your tantrum later, but we need to talk.” I open my mouth to give him an earful—which I can do from outside of his car—but he holds a finger up to my lips and I despise the way his touch makes my body react.

“Let me rephrase. I need to talk, I only need you to listen. Think you can manage to shut that pretty mouth of yours long enough to do that for me?”

The audacity for me to be turned on by any part of that sentence pisses me off.

He keeps his finger on my lips, raising a brow as if he’s waiting for me to confirm or deny whether or not I can keep my mouth shut and listen , and I do something even I don’t understand.

I bite him.

His finger is knuckle deep between my teeth and his glacier-blue eyes ignite.

Then he runs the tip of his finger along my tongue and I think I short-circuit completely. My mouth pops open, allowing him to remove his finger, and he runs it across his bottom lip. Then he backs up and opens the passenger door and my stupid girl brain tells me to get in the car.

“See, sweetheart. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He winks and closes the door behind me.

I regret everything.

We leave the parking lot and drive for at least ten minutes without him saying a single word. As soon as I open my mouth and take a breath to say something he looks at me, causing me to pause.

“You remember the deal, Trouble. No talking. Just listening. I’d hate to find more creative ways than my finger to keep you quiet.”

I’m tempted to start talking just to see what he comes up with, then promptly remember that I hate him and question why I ever even got in this car to begin with.

Because you bit him, licked his finger, then he ran said finger across his bottom lip and you liked it…that’s why.

Not a great reason, but I’ve done dumber things from being turned on.

Like sleeping with the guy you’re sitting next to?

Okay…that’s enough. I’m turning my brain off now.

Instead of saying anything, I reach over and turn the volume up on his radio. He gives me a scolding glance but I simply pop my eyes at him, still saying nothing. We drive for a few more minutes before pulling into a drive-thru.

“Two soft tacos, no lettuce, an order of cheesy potatoes, no sour cream and—” he looks over at me and squints. “A medium water. And one chicken quesadilla with a Pepsi.” The person gives him his total, we pull around to pay and get our food before parking in the almost empty lot.

“Eat,” he says, handing me the bag he just pulled his food from. I stare blankly at the tacos and potatoes, unable to pinpoint how I’m feeling.

“This is my exact order.” I look at him as he’s mid-bite.

“I know. So eat it,” he says over a mouth full of food.

What does he mean, he knows?!

“What if I don’t want it?” I’m starving and there’s no way I won’t be eating this food, but I’m curious what his answer will be.

“Don’t be a brat. Eat the food. You’re probably starving after only playing with your salad before throwing it out today.” Accurate.

“Fitz. Why did you bring me here? I could be at home eating by myself.”

Technically, I’d be eating with Ginny who is actually growing on me now that we’ve established some house rules and purchased her a litter box.

“While I’m sure you think your vicious, fighter cat makes better company, I do still need to talk to you, and I find people receive difficult information better when they aren’t hungry.”

“What difficult information?” My anxiety kicks up, causing my chest to grow tighter.

“Put the taco in your mouth and I will tell you.” I roll my eyes, but oblige. Taking a taco from the brown paper bag I unwrap it and take a bite, motioning for him to begin talking.

“You think you have me all figured out, but I can assure you, you do not. And while I still plan to prove you wrong on pretty much every count, the only important thing you need to know right now is this. Yes, I’m employed by The Fitzgerald Firm, and yes, we are buying out Coleson, but I’m not a mole.

I’m the acquisition manager. Jack and Barbara know exactly why I’m here because they are selling Coleson willingly.

I’m simply here ensuring everything is up to The Fitzgerald Firm standard before the transaction goes through.

” I swallow my food and he holds my water up with a straw already in it.

I hesitantly grab it from him and take a drink as I process the information—along with the fact that he’s being kind of sweet right now and it’s freaking me out.

“Why?” I whisper, mostly to myself, though he takes the opportunity to answer.

“Retirement is hard when you don’t have a 401k and have hemorrhaged money on flips that never paid off.” I drop my food in the bag and let my head fall back on the seat.

“I can’t believe they didn’t just tell us.” My head snaps over to look at him. “Why didn’t they?”

“That’s a question you’d have to ask them yourself. I go where I’m told and operate under the rules set for me. One of them being: don’t tell anyone who I work for, and don’t mention the takeover.”

“Rule breaker,” I snicker, taking another bite of my taco.

“Technically, I didn’t break those rules. You only found out because you heard a private phone conversation.” I throw a salsa packet at him and he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“That was on speakerphone while your office door was wide open. Don’t make it sound like I was eavesdropping on your private conversations.” He laughs, and I find myself doing the same.

The car grows quiet and I find my cheeks heating under his stare.

The street lights illuminate the vehicle just enough to see his features soften, and I catch myself wanting to lean across the console to touch him.

To run my fingers along his sharp jaw, or through his hair.

Dangerous territory for a girl who was told she was simply a decent experience to the guy she’s beginning to react to in a not-so-negative way.

I clear my throat and take another drink of water, trying to get my thoughts together and remember why he is the last person on earth I should be attracted to.

“Okay. So you’re not a mole, you’re just doing your job, and you’re not screwing Jack and Barbara over. That still only gets you about two percent lower on my shit list.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Take me back to my car now.” I turn around, facing completely out the front window.

“Not yet.” I raise a brow at him. “I need to know you’re not going to tell anyone else about the acquisition. Or who I really am.”

“Telling anyone else would only hurt the people I care about, I would never do that.” He nods his understanding.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t figure it out. You literally go by Fitz ,” I scold myself aloud, hearing a surprising grunt come from the driver seat. “What’s your real name, anyway?” His jaw hardens and he tosses his trash in the bag, putting his seat belt on before shifting into drive.

“Buckle up.” I do as he says, simply because I don’t get the idea he’s going to wait for me by the way he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

“I mean, surely your parents didn’t name you Fitz Fitzgerald, that just seems redundant…and kind of mean.” I begin eating my potatoes and watch as his gaze becomes more distant the further we drive.

“My name is really none of your concern, Sweetheart.” The condescending tone is back in his voice, and I shake my head in disbelief.

Every time I think there’s some shred of decency in this man, he is so quick to prove me wrong.

We pull back into the lot at Coleson and he parks a space down from my car.

I look over at him, but he’s staring out the front windshield, features now turned to stone and I have the urge to ask him what the fuck is wrong with him.

But instead, I take a deep breath, drop my trash into the paper bag on the floorboard, and get out of the car—leaving the passenger side door wide open.

I get into my car, start the engine, and look over to see him shaking his head at me.

Then I flip him off and pull out of the lot.

I can almost hear him calling me a brat just by the look on his face and you know what—maybe I am.

What can I say, he just brings the brattiness out of me I guess.