Page 103 of Catfish

My nostrils flare in want. Why did he have to be him? God, I would seduce the living shit out of him right now if he wasn’t governor. If he wasn’t so…dead-like.

"My assistant is here tonight, Emmy, so you might want to dodge her, or she'll hound you to take the position that you weren't ready for."

My brows slowly rise. “Ready for?”

“Of course,” he digresses. “That’s why you turned it down, correct?”

“No. I turned it down because your rules were ridiculous.”

Now he raises a brow, looking—or acting—confused. “Which one?” I take two steps towards him and adjust my already tightening jaw.

"Frankly, all of them, Governor.”

“Really?”

“Not inviting a man as a guest or visitor at one of your events?" My hands are balled into fists, but that's when I see it, the slight twist of his mouth before he rights himself, the bastard.

“I’m sorry, Miss Shelton, but I can’t have you making out with a date while I need you to make sure my event is running smoothly.”

“This isn’t high school,” I snap. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping my hands to myself.” He looks down at the, now, limited room between us. I hadn’t realized I took a few more steps in his direction.

“But apparently not personal space.” I add inches between us, turning them into feet as he watches me take them.

His eyes speak volumes that he’s not hiding very well. He’s amused that I’m getting irritated and, dare my ass say, a little flustered that he’s a handsome douchebag.

“So, you are that boy crazy?” the governor hedges. “That the one rule that applies to men was just too much for you to deal with?”

“Your constant comments on my attire,” I add. “As long as I don’t show up in lingerie, Mr. Lockwood, I don’t believe my clothing should be—”

“That was more for my benefit,” he appeals, hands shoved back into his pockets.

“Yours?”

“Absolutely, I’m not blind.”

I wish I was. Because those ocean-blues are melting me into a puddle right now.

"Regardless," I blurt. "I'm not doing it, so I'll be sure to keep out of the eyesight of your assistant."

“Or we could negotiate.” I meet his serious face with a frowning one of my own.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I pay more, Miss Shelton.”

I know that. His payday would be more than I’d make in a year busting my ass with A Series of Fortunate Events.

I've already done the math on what I could pay off of Mama's medical bills, and the ones I know are coming in soon. I’m aware that it could buy furniture for the room I was making up for Marty in my house. A new bed, a dresser, some clothes, and a TV. He loved Xbox, so I wanted to buy him one of those too so it could get him out of being "out there" in the field all the time.

“It’s not always about money,” I mutter.

It’s always about the damn money. It’s the whole reason I’m doing this and still talking to the stone god in front of me.

"How about my name as one of your clients, then?" Wade extolls. "The president of the United States? Not sure if you could get any higher than that."

My forehead creases. “That’s if you become the president.”

“I’m still a governor,” he voices.

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