Page 123 of Crazy for this Girl

“You wanna fix this restaurant or not?” She reaches over, slamming the top of my computer closed, and replaces my keyboard with a styrofoam container. “This is the crispy calamari and rock shrimp fry.”

I glare at her. “I already ate.”

“Really?” She eyes me with suspicion. “Did that include coffee or just…coffee?”

“I know how to order my own food, Miss Reese, and your job description doesn’t consist of mothering me.” I glance back down at what she so graciously didn’t hand me. “And why the fuck is this styrofoam?”

“Is it not supposed to be?” I scowl because this was intended to be a nice restaurant, affordable for families and young couples to come and eat. Something they’ll remember that they’d like to come back to.

“No. It looks cheap as fuck, and I’m trying to save the damn environment here.” Plucking a piece of calamari from the container, I toss it between my lips and chew. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It was disgusting.”

One of my brows lift because she must not remember who she’s speaking to. “Do you even like calamari?”

“No.” I roll my eyes because when you want to wow a girl, you take them somewhere special with really nice food. If you want to impress Laynee Reese, you order her all the fried food known to man. “But the rock shrimp was great. Also, on the side”—she points to the pink fish—“is the smoked salmon blini. Which, I spoke to an elderly couple there, and they stated it was the best thing on the menu.”

“And let me guess, you still don’t eat salmon either.”

Her lips curl into a smile, one that actually makes her look happy. It’s so fucking beautiful that I just gape at her because it’s never been directed at me since I ran into her. “It’s why you’re taking one for the team, boss.”

“Don’t call me boss.”

“Alright, bossman.” She leans over, placing both of her palms on the lip of my desk. “Why don’t you just try it?”

I push my tongue against my cheek to keep myself from saying anything about taking. “Didn’t you and I used to fish?”

“Yep.”

“And didn’t you eat most of it?”

“No, you did, boss. Like you did every two minutes.”

“Quit calling me boss,” I clip out, before opening extending my palm. “Do you have a fork or do you expect me to eat it with my hands?”

A wrapped napkin with silverware inside is tossed at my chest, and I ignore the idea that punishing Laynee for being a fucking brat over the edge of my desk is not a good idea.

You can fire all of HR if she files a suit.

“Next is the avocado Caesar salad.”

My eyes flick up to her. “I thought you said you wouldn’t let your worst enemy eat that earlier in a text.” Laynee’s lips curl higher before seductively biting down on her lower lip that I’ve wanted to taste since seeing her again. “You’re kidding me.”

She slowly shakes her head, and yeah, this woman has been away from me for way too long and has gotten out of control.

“I’m your worst enemy now?”

“You make it sound like you’re the victim here, Mr. Harper,” she above and beyond replies sweetly. “I was just doing the job you sent me to do and also wanted your input. That way, when I tell you what I think, you won’t be going based on only my opinion.”

“You act like friends don’t lose touch,” I grumble, ripping agitatedly at the plastic of my silverware.

“Our friendship was different.”

“You could’ve fooled me. I can’t even talk to you without you shutting me down.” Her nostrils flare when another box is ungraciously tossed in front of me before I can get to the poisoned Caesar salad.

Maybe she had second thoughts.

She pops the lid out from its cheap holder, ignoring me and my comment. “The seared sea scallops and spiced six-ounce filet were both dry and overly cooked. The roasted garlic mashed potatoes need milk. The truffle fries are good; however, he screwed up the potato salad, and in the south, you don’t do that.”

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