"School?" He asks with a frown.
“Yeah. I’m in high school.”
He blinks as if shocked, then recovers smoothly. “Senior year?”
I nod. “Yes, I graduate in four months.”
He leans back on his chair, his expression going pensive. “I see.”
He says nothing, sipping his coffee, and something tells me he's disappointed. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and push past the awkward pause. “You, uh… are you in college?”
“Not anymore.” He says tightly. “I graduated.”
I knew that. I just hope not too long ago. "When?"
He holds my gaze, fully aware of what I’m really asking. “I’m twenty-three, Sabrina.”
Twenty-three.
“You—you’re old,” I whisper.
“I know.” He searches my face with something too gentle to be dangerous, but my heartbeat still kicks into overdrive anyway.
“What do you do?” I blurt, desperate to redirect before my brain leaks out of my ears.
His expression shifts. He looks… reluctant. “I work for my father. At the oil rig.”
Something inside me drops. Hard. There are a few oil rigs in Henderson, but surely—surely it’s not the same one. “Apex Energy?”
He straightens. “How did you know?”
Oh, crap. Itisthe same company. I shrug, feigning innocence. “Lucky guess.”
"Huh." Jordan tilts his head to study me and I feel it like heat on my skin.
“What’s your last name?” I blurt, though by some instinct I already know.
His face darkens. “Farrington.”
Double crap. He's Brendan Farrington's son. The supervisor my dad and his buddy won’t shut up about. The “rich kid” who, according to them, couldn’t tell a drill from a doughnut. And landed the job only because his daddy owns the place.
“My dad works as a foreman at Apex Energy.”
His brows lift. “Really? He must be one of the contractors.”
“Yes. He only started this summer.” My mouth runs ahead of my good sense. “You’re—you’re my father’s boss.”
“Not exactly,” he says, lips twitching. "Right now I’m just another employee.” His gaze burns into mine. “Is that going to be a problem, Sabrina?”
A problem? Other than my father burying me alive if I even look at this man?
I blink hard—mostly to suppress a nervous laugh. “A problem. Why would that be a problem? Everyone’s welcome here at Pizza Fiesta.”
Jordan freezes for a heartbeat, then flashes a grin so lethal I forget how to breathe. “Great. I’ll take that as a no.”
Oh no. Why does it feel like I just agreed to something? Like I batted my eyes and flirted?
Because you did, Bree.
