“Like, what did you plan to happen next?”
I silently gasp—I think it’s silent. “Are you calling me a schemer? Like I’m plotting a full-blown heist?”
“Schemer?” His chuckle is slow and bitter. “I wouldn’t say schemer.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you?”
His cold and unyielding gaze pins me in place. “Opportunist. Intruder.”
“Shay?” Tess presses.
I ignore her. “I’m none of those things. I’m a guest. I don’t have some whacked hidden agenda you seem to think I do.”
“Hidden agenda?” He shifts from one leg to the other.
This time, I make a point of not noticing how the curve of his upper arms sharpens as he pulls them tighter. And I’m definitely not adding it to my clit closet.
“I think you do. I see this all the time. Women who think they can just come in here and I’m a man, so I’m automatically going to want to fuck you.”
His words blow me away.
“Wow. Wow.Wow.” Words aren’t coming to me. “Get over yourself.”
“Shay?” Tess is using her warning voice, but I’m past listening.
“I’m going to go sort this out with the hostesses so take this time to prepare to give me an apology.”
“Shay,” Tess hisses.
I turn on my heel and storm to the door.
“I won’t hold this against you when we meet again,” he says.
“Iwillbe holding it against you,” I snap over my shoulder.
“I promise never to mention it.”
I scoff. “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” I grab my purse. “An arrogant”—damn good looking—“asshole.”
“Do you want a hand with your luggage?” He reaches for my bag, and I slap his hand.
“Holy shit, you slapped Cash Can Cook.” Tess’s voice trembles. “I’m going to add that to my CC.”
At least she knows when and when not to announce her clit closet.
“My bags are not going anywhere. I am in the right room.”
Cash Can Cook?
Why does that sound familiar?
I don’t care.
I whip open the door and slam into another body.
