“Ritz, c’mon. That’s why you won’t look at me? 'Cause Italk outta my ass?” The questions were so casual it was like he was asking whether I wanted ranch dressing onmysalad or Italian. So annoying.
“That's not enough?" I might have wailed my words a little.
This asshole started chuckling. “Don’t get so pissed.” The pads of his fingers brushed a line from my thigh down to my knee in an intimate, delicate gesture that was at odds with the man I’d met a week ago. “I told you it was a mistake. How many more times do you want me to say I’m sorry?”
I gave him a flat look which he returned to me with round, curious eyes. “I know. But you called me anidiotall because I asked you for help on my second day.Who does that?" The truth was, maybe I was an idiot. Because a smart person would have shut their mouth and accepted the forced apology, but there I was, my mouth still running. “The last time anyone called me afucking-somethingwas three years ago when I bought the last television on sale at Walmart on Black Friday for my little brother. But you know what? I didn’t care then.” Thebut I care nowwas implied in spades.
Dex’s thick lashes fluttered closed as he let out a whoosh of air from his lungs. He looked pained. Dex didn’t seem like the type of man who was used to apologizing to anyone. The expression seemed so rough and foreign coming from him, it was like trying to shove a square shaped object through a round hole. “Babe, I’m sorry.” Those pretty blue eyes opened, focusing on mine. “I just...say shit."
"You just say shit?" I repeated.
Oh boy.
I blinked in his features. His long, dark eyelashes, deep set eyes, magnificent square jaw, that nearly perfect nose—Dex The Dick was unbelievably handsome. And I was making him feel like shit for not forgiving him when it truly seemed like he was remorseful. In what might be the first time in his life with the way he expressed it.
"Yeah." It was a statement, a fact. "You're MC, you gotta have thicker skin than that to survive here, you hear me?"
God, grant me strength.
"My dad was a Widow. Sonny's a Widow. I'm not," I explained to him calmly. "I can't just grow a thick skin overnight."
It was his turn to blink. "Yeah, you can." He blinked again. "Who gives a fuck what I say? Tell me if you got a problem. Don't run off and tell Son that I'm treatin' you like shit, and hide your fuckin' face from me because you're hurt over me bein' a dumbass.Tell me. Maybe you don't have a thick skin but I do. I can take it."
Like it was that easy.
I sighed and closed both of my eyes, annoyed with myself for having kept the job when I didn't really want to, all because of circumstances. Circumstances that, as always, revolved around money. Crap.
I sighed again.
Wasn't it easy to just be nice out of the kindness of his heart instead of bullied into it?
I almost laughed. Like Dex could be bullied into something. I'd known him a few days and I already knew he was immovable.
"Don't get all emo on my ass." He nudged my knee with his hip. "Tell me you got a problem."
I couldn't. I just couldn't.
The risk of losing this friggin' job that I wasn't even that fond of yet was too high. If he got pissed off about me asking for help, how pissed would he be if I told him to quit being a dick? Despite the fact that my brother had told me to do the same thingDexwas implying...I wasn’t positive that I really had it in me.
“Babe, I’m not gonna have an issue tellin’ somebody that they’re pissin’ me off,” he stated.
No shit.
He nudged my knee with his hip again. “Say it.”
“Say what?” I asked slowly.
“Say what you’re thinkin’,” Dex explained.
I shook my head.
His eyebrows knit together in exasperated patience. “Call me a dick. An asshole. A shit. Whatever you want, just get it out, Ritz.”
The look on my face was probably half horrified, half nervous that he’d said the one nickname I usually called him in my head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s rude.”
