Page 55 of What I Should've Said

“Sheep farmer?” Is he talking about Talkative Tad?

“You know who I’m talking about. You’ve been up his ass since I got here.”

My jaw might as well hit the floor.

“Up his ass?” I question on a scoff, stepping back to lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think so.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to pretend on my account.” Bennett steps even closer to me and surprises me by reaching forward to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers are gentle—tender, even—but his eyes are the exact opposite. They hold an edge of silent interrogation. “Farmer Ted is working hard to get into your panties tonight, and by the looks of it, you don’t mind one bit.”

If my eyes get any wider right now, they’ll consume my whole face. Seriously. I’d just be a head with two eyeballs. “His name is Tad, not Ted. And he’s not trying to get into my panties.” Frankly, he’s too busy trying to get me to sing karaoke and talking about his sheep.

Bennett smirks and rests one hand on the wall beside my head. He leans closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s exactly what he’s trying to do.”

He’s so close, I can make out the flecks of gold in his blue eyes. And the smell of his cologne invades my nostrils, filling my head with cedar and cinnamon and soft vanilla all at once.

I hate how good he smells. Technically, you hate how much you love it.

“He’s just being friendly,” I attempt to redirect my thoughts and this insane conversation. I don’t know what crawled up Bennett’s ass tonight, but I’m starting to get pretty ticked off that I’m on the receiving end of his ire when I know I don’t deserve to be.

I’ve done nothing wrong besides exist and butcher one of Garth Brooks’s most popular songs.

“Friendly?” His laugh is devoid of comedy. “Is that a newfangled word for trying to fuck you?”

One second, I’m standing there, listening to Bennett spout bullshit in my direction. And the next, my palm finds its way to his cheek with a loud smack.

Holy shit! What are you doing? You just smacked Bennett—your new boss—in the face!

Déjà vu hits me like a truck. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, but the biggest difference is that now, he’s my employer. The man whose assistant job has finally made me feel like I am really turning my life around.

You idiot!

“Oh my God. I…I…I…” I open and close my mouth several times, unsure of what to say or do. A thousand apologies sit on my lips, but when I see that Bennett is just standing there, smirking down at me, I clamp my lips closed.

And when he says, “Did I strike a nerve, sweetheart? You want to fuck the sheep farmer?”

My hand finds its way to his face for a second time.

Bennett

My cheek stings from the shock of her palm, and Norah stares up at me with those big brown eyes of hers, the ones I’ve managed to memorize every facet of like the back of my hand.

And when the realization of what I just instigated settles inside the logical part of my mind, my heart takes off at a run, pounding inside my chest. Way to go, you dick.

I’m not even mad that she slapped me. I’m mad that I acted like I cared so much about that dumbass sheep farmer flirting with her and spouted a mouthful of bullshit at her because of it. Being cruel isn’t something I want to be, nor will I ever be proud of it.

“Norah, I—”

“What the hell? I thought we were getting along!” she shouts over me. “I thought things were gravy between us. I actually love working for you and I want to keep working for you, but you just had to prove me wrong by doing what you always do, and now you’re probably going to fire me even though I wasn’t the one acting like a total asshole!”

Fire her? Summer would be devastated. And she wouldn’t be the only one missing Norah’s presence.

“Norah, I’m not going to fire you.”

A deep sigh escapes her lungs, and I’m not even sure if she heard what I said because she dives right back into yelling at me. “Why, Bennett? Why do you always do that? How do you always do that? Up until I met you, I’d never slapped anyone! But you? You manage to get me so pissed off that I’ve now slapped you who even knows how many times at this point!”

The irony of what she’s saying isn’t lost on me. I’m not the only one making other people do crazy shit. “Join the club, sweetheart. I don’t make a point of getting arrested for punching people’s ex-lovers. Before you came barreling into Red Bridge, my life was a hell of a lot less dramatic.”

“Shut up!” She shoves a hand into my chest. “Just…shut up, okay? Shut up.” When I don’t say anything, she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall. “And why do you even care?” she eventually asks, her voice quiet.

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