Chapter 12
Chris
Inever went back to sleep. I couldn’t. After I saw Melinda in the kitchen, those feelings I had been wrestling with all night stopped beating the hell out of me, and I could finally breathe. Only because it confirmed the monsoon of emotions I was feeling wasn’t because I was tired or confused, but because Melinda had worked her way into my head again. And I had to stop it.
For starters, I was her boss, and whether I liked it or not, she was great at marketing. I could find someone else to do my marketing, but I wanted her to do it. At least for now.
Secondly, she and I were bad for each other. No good. Too different. She had an attitude that screamed, “I’m better than everyone else,” and I couldn’t be around twenty-four-seven to make sure she didn't fall and break her neck because she tripped over something. And I didn’t want to hire a bodyguard. Too much potential for him falling in love with her. I smirked. At least I still had a sense of humor.
It wasn’t news that she and I would strangle each other if we spent more than a day together. Hell, five minutes, it seemed. Last night was an exception to the rule, that was all, and it was also a one-off. It wasn’t like we were ever going to be locked up in a chalet together again. And tomorrow she’d be back to her pesky self, trying to outdo everyone around with her charm and her smarts — little Miss Smarty-pants.
Just thinking about her always trying to one−up me was already making me mad.
Nope. No way. I wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't going to get the best of me. I refused. I wasn't going to fall for her shit. She wasn't going to bring down my walls and hit me unexpectedly. No, I knew her game. I knew it because I’d been played before. That damn night in the theatre, only to have her blow me off the next day. I’d let my guards down for her, and she’d walked all over me at that fundraising thing for the school. I still remembered walking up to her with my date, who happened to be a friend of hers, and she just blanked me. I wasn’t too good for her friend, though, and I’d made sure to prove that by kissing her in front of Melinda at the end of the night. Showing I didn’t care. Though, of course, I did.
Last night was a one−time deal. I had to make sure of it.
While it was still dark outside, I checked my phone, and it announced morning had arrived. Tossing the blankets off me, I headed down the steps, not bothering to check my hair or brush my teeth with the extra toothbrushes in the drawers, since I was about to make coffee.
Right now, Melinda was fucking with my head, and I had no idea what was up or down. I needed coffee.
I huffed, talking to myself in low breaths and grunts when I got to the kitchen, finding it empty. Good. I wasn’t ready to see her yet. I had a million scenarios running through my head when it came to her. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew exactly what I must do. But it didn’t stop my imagination from running wild. With jerky movements, I slammed the top down on the Keurig and pushed my mug underneath where the coffee would come out at. I shook my head, damn, that girl had more of a hold on me than I’d ever realized.
I took Trader Joe’s cookie dough—cut and ready to go—out of the freezer next and laid them on a cookie sheet, tossing them in the oven and not waiting until it was done pre−heating. What could I say? I was a rebel. Besides, I had done this before. It was my idea with the cookies. Because who doesn’t love fresh cookies?
Her door opened. A slight creak as the hinges and the sound of footsteps told me she was coming out.
Be cool. Don’t seem upset. Or horny. Or torn.
That was easier said than done when she came out of the room looking perfect in yesterday's outfit and zero makeup. It only pissed me off further. She paid me no mind as she stood on her tiptoes to grab a mug.
“That coffee smells so good.”
I yanked my mug away when it was done brewing and brought it to my lips. This was my coffee. Melinda could make her own. I didn’t want her to think we were becoming too friendly. I leaned against the counter, a bit bitter on this beautiful sunny day.
Melinda didn’t catch on to my mood. “Any honey or cinnamon in here?”
Did it look like this place had a fully stocked kitchen? Well, cookies and coffee aside.
“No, sorry, Princess. You’ll have to make do with sugar. Or xylitol.” Maybe I had thought of a few things. There was even a blender as people like me couldn’t live without our morning smoothies and protein shakes. I took a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee, my taste buds screaming at me from the heat. I burnt my tongue. I would never let it show. Karma, I supposed.
“It’s fine,” she said, a little too happy, a bit too cheery. Did she think last night changed things between us? It didn’t because it couldn’t. Because it’d lead to disaster, caused by her, no doubt.
She closed her eyes and hummed when she took the first sip. It was like she was experiencing euphoria. “That’s good. Okay, so when are we getting out of here? I couldn’t fall back asleep last night, and I produced a bunch of ideas for the New Year’s gala. I'm thinking of a name, don't worry. A bunch of people will love it and flock to the skating rink. Hey, what should we do about food? We have to have a full menu but on ice? It could work. I don’t know.”
I held up my hand and stopped her from talking. “It’s too early for all these questions. I need my coffee first. You’re so…peppy.”
“It’s a pretty day,” she argued.
“I don’t care,” I grunted, taking my coffee to the living room where the fire from last night still had embers glowing in the ashes. I sighed when my back hit the cushion of the couch.
“Wow, you aren’t a morning person, are you?”
I lifted a brow at the same time I lifted my mug to my mouth. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The lack of a smile on your face? Mr. Doom and Gloom.”
“I just need coffee. And then you can ask me all the questions you want.” Just then, the oven dinged, and I went to get up, but Melinda stopped me.
