“I’m sorry. It’s been a shit twenty-four hours.”
She nods. “I get it. Need anything else? Coffee refill? Alibi? Hit Jackson with my car?”
“You’re my favorite person.”
She winks. “I know.”
Thenheappears.
Jackson leans against my office wall. Pristine suit. Hair annoyingly perfect. He looks fresh. Not like he was up half the night fucking myex-girlfriend.
“Rhodes,” he says, like we’re old friends.
“Jackson.”
“Nice of you to show up for work. Must’ve had a wild night. I know mine ran late.”
Leveling him with a glare, my tone is a jagged blade when I reply, “Funny, didn’t realize narcissism required aftercare.”
His grin tightens.
“Hey, I heard about your car,” I add, feeling dangerous.
“Did you?”
“Yeah. That sucks.” I blink. Innocent.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Nope.” I slide one hand into my pocket, the other brings my coffee cup to my lips. I take a sip.
“Hmmm. Well, whoever did it had someverystrong opinions about male anatomy.”
“Yours?” I ask. “I heard it was a micropenis.”
“Ha! It’s enough to keep Chloe satisfied. Repeatedly.”
I walked right into that one.
The air goes razor-sharp. My fists clench before my brain catches up. Blood roars, knuckles twitch, I’m a half-step from launching into him.
“Nope.” Tammy slides between us like a human Switzerland. “We arenotpunching nephews before ten a.m., Rhodes.”
She turns to Jackson with a smile that could slice the man’s throat. “And you? Stop measuring your manhood in other people’s bed sheets.”
Jackson adjusts his tie. “Touchy.”
I exhale through gritted teeth. “Careful.”
Tammy nudges Jackson along. “Boys, if this turns into a pissing match, please take it outside. I just had these floors buffed.”
Jackson watches me as Tammy pushes him further toward the exit. Even with the added distance, the tension pulses between us.
“Mr. Thatcher,” Tammy reminds me over her shoulder.
“Have fun in the meeting,” Jackson calls out. “Try not to drag me down, yeah?”
“The only thing dragging you is your own dead weight.”
