Page 75 of Call Me Sir

“Why don’t you let me pick something out and you work on cleaning this mess up?”

“Fine.”

His bratty little attitude makes my arm hairs stand up. Where did this come from? Didn’t he just kiss me?

Noisily he shuffles around the room and I try to take in the clothes still on hangers in a pile on the floor.

After rummaging for ten minutes, I find the perfect shirt.

Twenty Four

Cole

Oh God.

The mansion looms overhead, screaming of money, power, fame, the coast and whatever the hell else is out of my grasp.

Bayfront’s richest people live along the shore here. I pointed out Oliver and Ace’s mansion as we rode over and he only mumbled an “okay” in response.

I guess he grew up here so it’s nothing to him.

Before we get out of his car I flip down the mirror and give myself a once over.

Then I look at Sal.

We look like we’re about to go golfing. We look goofy and stupid.

My cheeks flush as I think about that kiss I gave him in my kitchen the night before. I wanted more. So much more.

“Let’s go,” he orders impatiently.

But he’s made it very clear he wants to remain boss and employee. Not lovers. “Fine.”

The pavement radiates heat as the sun begins its descent in the sky.

As we step up to the enormous double doors I can’t help but replay yesterday’s events again though.

How unexpected that kiss seemed to him. Was he wanting more too after that?

He picked out the white button up shirt with little anchors, I said goodnight to him and shuffled him out the door and he also seemed confused.

Now when he picked me up tonight, he was all business.

The energy between us feels stiff yet settled. As if we decided we’re just two colleagues about to go on a business meeting or something lame.

Not two lovers meeting the other’s parent!

Sal rings the doorbell and it’s practically a church bell announcing our arrival, the tune sounds like it’s from the dark ages.

“Who died?” I mutter, tugging at the collar.

“You own this shirt, how’s it bothering you that much?” Sal grumbles back to me, not even a hint of a smile forming on his face.

Mad doesn’t describe his expression. More like seething.

I almost want to apologize for not fucking him last night but the door swings open just in time for me to bite the inside of my cheek.

The person is dressed rather formally and is an older gentleman.

---