“Yeah.” I move into the kitchen and start pulling some carrots out of the refrigerator so I can make a stew that’ll do us for a few days. “I, uh, I got fired.”
“What?” Nathan pushes his chair back and stands. “What happened?”
“I’ll spare you the details, but one of the guys I was waiting on grabbed me where he shouldn’t have, and it upset another customer. They got into a fight, and I got fired.”
“You got fired because some asshole groped you?” Nathan’s eyes flash with anger. “That’s disgusting and wrong.”
“Well, my boss doesn’t see it that way.”
His jaw clenches. “There has to be some kind of law against that. I’m sure we can—”
“You’re not getting involved. I’ll handle it.”
He’s quiet for a long second while I start slicing the carrots. Then he asks, softer than before, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“No. The other guy made him back off.” I remember the anger in Dalton’s eyes, the righteous indignation when he saw what Bryce was doing. No one’s ever cared like that.
I shake my head before turning back to Nathan. “And don’t worry about money. I’ll figure it out.”
He glances at the coat I hung by the door. “Maybe you should ask your friend for some.”
“That belongs to the guy who stepped in and got me fired.”
Nathan looks back at me with a frown. “He did the right thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t take his side.”
“Too late. Come on, Sam, like you wouldn’t have done something had you been in his position.”
I don’t respond because he’s right. Instead I say, “You wouldn’t believe what he asked me. He wants me to go home with him for Christmas and pretend to be his boyfriend. He said he’d pay me twenty grand for it.”
“You said no, right?”
“I told him I’d think about it, but obviously I’m going to say no.”
“Did he tell you his name?”
“Dalton Kane. He put his number in my phone.”
Nathan’s eyebrows rise. “Kane? Like as in Kane Holdings?”
“He didn’t tell me what he did for a living.”
Nathan pulls his phone from the front pocket of his hoodie and taps something out while I add the carrots to a pot and then move on to the potatoes.
“Is this the guy?” Nathan turns his phone toward me to show a picture of Dalton in some article talking about land development for a new elementary school.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“He’s a millionaire. He’s the one who owns those apartment buildings over on Charles Street. Those really nice ones.” He stares down at his phone screen. “I can’t believe a millionaire hit on you, and you turned him down.”
“You were all for me turning him down just a second ago.”
“Yeah, but that was before I realized he was actually telling the truth when he offered twenty grand. Normally, that’d just be some sociopath trying to lure you away so he could dismember you.”
“Dalton could dismember me,” I grumble. Honestly, knowing that he actually has the money to pay me makes me a little more willing to do it, but it still seems like a risky idea. A lot could go wrong. And Dalton may spend more time around me and realize he can’t stand me. Then we’d be stuck together for a week.
And yet . . .
