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EXCERPT:
“Why do you hate me?” I ask him.
“I never said I hated you.”
“Ha!” I laugh out. “You fooled me. You sure treat me like you hate me. What did I do to you?”
“It’s nothing you did. I just don’t trust your type.”
I pull away from him, almost losing my balance completely. “My type?” I spit out once I regain my footing as I grip onto the top of the open door.
“Just get in the car, Soph.” He reaches out to me, but I pull away.
“That’s not fair. You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But can we get you inside so you don’t injure yourself, and, maybe, you can come to work again so I don’t have to search for another employee.”
“See. Right there. Why did you say ‘maybe’? I’m doing a good job.” I stand up showing my pride at how far I’ve come.
He takes off his hat and runs his hands through his hair. It’s unruly and wild.
“You know you’re not a waitress.”
I hold my arms out dramatically wide. “Obviously. What gave that away? I’m an accountant. A damn good one, too. In fact, people wait weeks for a chance to meet with me. Weeks! And you won’t even let me help you with your books!” I shout. He starts to talk and I shush him. “No. No more words from you. I hate your words. They’re short. And condescending. It’s like you have this way of saying mean things that don’t sound mean to the outside world, but you twist them in a way that they become these little digs. You know what? Darla’s right. She said you don’t fight with me. You don’t. You’re just a passive aggressive asshole. That’s right. I just called you an asshole. That felt good. Really good, actually. I should curse more often. The profanity is really doing things for me tonight.”
“I think it was the lemon drop shots—”
“There you go again! Stop acting like you know me. Okay. Fine. I’m not a waitress. I’m only doing it for your grandmother. Who is really amazing by the way. How you and her are related is beyond me.”
“And you say I’m the rude one.” He folds his arms over his chest. I can’t help but stare. The fact that I find his biceps, and the way they curl, so mesmerizing makes me angry. “You’re staring.”
“It’s unfair.” I motion toward his body. “Why do you have to be so attractive?”
He raises a brow.
I sneer at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know you’ve got the whole golden skin, chiseled jaw, hot single dad thing going on. Before you make any wise cracks, I will point out that I caught you looking at my boobs twice tonight.” I raise my chin, proud of my assessment. I’m also a bit confused. How did we get on this topic?
Grant stares back, his eyes surveying me; softening and then narrowing in confusion. “Are you done?”
“I think so.”
His chest expands as he puts his hat back on. “Can I bring you home now?”
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