“Not awful. Wear something nice. He drives a Lamborghini.” He focuses his smirk on Wheels, standing silently in the doorway.
“Thanks, later.” As I skip up the stairs, my cranky shadow snorts something about rich criminals behind my back.
At the top railing I pause and turn. “You obviously need to get laid. I hereby bequeath you the night off.”
The crease in his brows makes me wonder. “Are you in a relationship?” Maybe that’s why the kiss bothered him so.
“Not really.” He glances down the stairs, where Kimmy bounces in and starts a non-stop monologue about kindergarten.
Once she’s inside, I hiss. “God, you are such a, a… man.”
As I try to stomp away, he grabs my hand. “You have no idea. Drop it.”
Electricity sparks where we connect and despite being annoyed, I don’t pull out of his grasp. “You think it’s perfectly acceptable to butt into my personal life, but I can’t ask about yours? How is that fair?”
“I have a valid reason. I’m trying to keep you safe.” His voice just above a whisper, his eyes lower to my mouth and I lean in.
“Nuh-uh. I’m a favor to Suds. We both know nothing bad is going to happen.”
His eyes snap open, ending the momentary madness. “Let’s agree to disagree. I cannot believe a grown woman lets her uncle pick her dates.”
“You don’t have to. Buh-bye.” Hoping to push him out of my life, I shove his rock-hard abs, but he doesn’t budge.
Instead, he grunts and parks his body in what I used to think was a reasonably sized kitchen chair. Leaning back, he crosses his arms and ankles while I raise the attic stairs.
Once they’re up, I have access to my bathroom, and stomp inside. After, I slam the door so hard, my shampoo falls off the shelf. Stupid bodyguard. One minute he’s all sexy and smiling, the next he’s a grouch and acting like he owns me. He’s impossible.
I shower, then realize I left my clothes in the bedroom. Wrapping a towel around my body, I peek out the door. With Wheels focused on his phone, I tiptoe to my room. There, I open my closet and groan. I need to do laundry.
Mia’s wardrobe is my only hope. She’s a little smaller than me but has plenty of spandex. Thinking of my pathetic dating life, I try something new. The wickedly short sweater dress hugs all my curves. While Mia wears it with leggings, I pair it with over the knee suede boots, leaving a couple inches of bare thigh showing.
At some level, I acknowledge trying to make Wheels jealous could easily backfire but desperate times, my friends.
Needing a full-length mirror and a reaction from stone-man in the kitchen, I clear my throat in the doorway. Eventually he looks up and I strut to the bathroom. After applying mousse, I bend at the waist, scrunch with one hand, and hold the hair dryer with the other. And voila. Millions of tiny ringlets fall to my shoulders. Then, I apply red devil lips, fake lashes, double-volume mascara, eyeliner, blush, and coverup. Plain Jane, the hairdresser, is transformed into a boobalicious Brooklyn babe.
Grouchy-puss’s mouth drops open as I sashay into the kitchen. He scoots his chair under the table but it’s too late. How could I miss the lump in his pants?
“Tell me you’re not going out like that.”
“Okay. You’re not going out like that.” Ignoring him, I zip my faux-fur jacket and don my red hat with matching kid gloves.
Jumping up, he blocks my exit. I take two baby steps, eye level with his Adam’s apple. When his neck muscles twitch, I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far and slip my hand into my purse, reaching for my pepper spray.
He grabs my wrist and as he pulls out my hand, his mouth curls down. “Jesus. Did you think I would hurt you?”
“No. Maybe… I don’t know.” My barb hits home, much sharper than I intended.
Brows creased, he flings his arm out like a doorman. “Dammit. Go. Get yourself killed. See if I give a shit.”
“Listen… You don’t understand. Oh, fuck it. Fine.” I totter to the first floor in my five-inch heels and as I wait at the door, his voice echoes down the stairwell.
“Hey Jeannie? Yeah… I know, baby. I’ve been busy. Uh-huh. Sure. Want to go out to dinner?... Great, I’ll pick you up in twenty.”
My chest tightens and my eyes sting, but I squeeze them tight until the urge to cry passes. I bet his dream date is a virtuoso at kissing. Fuck him. Fuck his hard pecks and his stupid cock who takes notice the second I get close.
What the hell is his problem?
Worse, what’s wrong with me?
