Page 49 of Force a Date

fourteen

. . .

LIV

I hate painting.

I don’t know how people think it’s fun or want to create art out of it, all I know is it’s messy and a pain in the ass.

And I have it everywhere. All over my fingertips, my forearms, a few blotches on my white tee, and my thighs.

Did I mention I hate painting?

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Hudson’s little work bitch?” I stop rolling the wall of Hudson’s basement, registering Miles’s voice, and I release a silent sigh.

I knew Hudson was an asshole.

I just didn’t realize he was a bragging asshole.

“He told you?” I ask, going back to work and covering the white walls with dark maroon paint.

“Told me what? That you lost a bet and you had to do this?”

Okay, maybe not.

A Coors Light appears in front of me and I gladly take it.

Since I haven’t been a ray of sunshine toward Hudson, he’s up the ante and had been having me do house chores that apparently he hasn’t wanted to do.

“You hungry?”

I shake my head because having to stay here a second longer and away from Rory isn’t something appealing right now. “No, I just want to head home.” Besides, it’s the day of doom tomorrow and I have to make nice with Norah for her wedding by being her bitch. My self-esteem has never taken this big of a hit before by two different people.

“Hudson wanted me to come grab you.”

I silently tsk because I can’t imagine what else he could possibly want from me. “For?”

“I dunno. I don’t question boss man and that’s why I never get in trouble.” I roll my eyes. Maybe that’s why I’m always heading that way. “Maybe he’s letting you off the hook.”

That perks my interest.

I could go for a Starbucks iced coffee, raid my junk cabinet, and try not to think about tomorrow’s festivities.

Carefully putting the roller down in the metal pan of paint, I find Miles standing there nursing his own beer and watching me intently.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Except…what’s going on with you and him?”

Guilt immediately floods my chest, but I try to keep my best poker face on. “What do you mean?”

He lifts one of those nosy brows, causing one of his tattoos to crinkle a bit. “I mean, you two have been seeming to get close lately.”

“I work with him. I’m the receptionist.”

“You never were before, so spill.”

Ew, fuck no.

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