Page 7 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

“I was hoping to put in an order,” he says. “Think I can get lunch for my crew? They stayed out of your way today.”

He says it like I’m supposed to be grateful he’s buying from me, and he’s definitely waiting for me to praise his parking job. Too bad I’m not the girl who’ll give you head pats and cookies for the bare minimum. I’m also not the girl who’ll put up with his shit. “Not happening. I’m not cooking for you or for them when you’re making my day hell,” I say as I stomp toward the door. I glare at him through the screen, taking special delight in his dropped jaw and wide with shock eyes. I lean to the side, looking around his stupidly wide shoulders before meeting his gaze again. “And your bumper’s still over my property line.”

Before Kyle can say anything, I turn and kick my door closed with a nifty little spin kick. I might be insane considering I’ve never turned down an order, not a single time. Each order, every dollar that comes in, is too precious. As it is, I need to scrape the bottom of my pots each and every day to keep profits adding up and my business bankrolled for another day.

That doesn’t mean I need his money, though, especially when it smacks of an insincere apology. I was taught that if you fuck up, you start with two words. I’m sorry. Then, after you’ve said that, you can back it up by making things right. I don’t need some asshole hiding behind a get-out-trouble smile and empty gestures.

Kyle stands outside my door for a few moments, clearly thinking about knocking again. But he’s smart enough to recognize that doing so is going to get the door slammed right back in his face, maybe with a face full of habanero sauce for good measure. Instead, he turns and heads to work while I put my head down and get back to my day.

Five pounds of onions aren’t going to chop or caramelize themselves.

Later…

“Hey there, Dani, is the food as hot as you are today?”

Straight-faced, I lift the plastic bag of half a dozen burritos I’ve got wrapped and ready to go for Joshua, waving it back and forth.

I’m used to some of the guys flirting with me. The ones who are only playing, I play right back. They’re usually the older guys who’re looking for a bright spot in their day or a kind word from a sweet young thing and don’t actually want anything from me. Like a date or a fuck. It’s a friendly give and take, nothing more.

Then there are guys like Joshua.

When they flirt, it’s serious. They want me, in whatever way, shape, form, or fashion they can get me. At all of maybe nineteen years old, Joshua has decided I’m his dream girl, whatever that means.

At first, I tried being polite, but he didn’t take my ‘not interested’ as an answer. So I moved on to ‘no’, then ‘fuck no’. He still thinks I’m playing hard to get, despite my progressively unsmiling, downright rude responses.

I’m almost to the point of threatening his food, knowing that if he has to explain to his crew boss that he’s the reason they have to go to McDonald’s instead of getting lunch from me, his boys will do what I haven’t done. Yet. Which is beat it into his thick skull that I’m not going out with him.

Unfortunately, it’s looking like today might be the day for that threat because he proves once again that he’s a hardheaded dumbass by getting out of the passenger side of the truck he’s riding in, despite the yell of frustration from Damien, who drives their crew truck.

“The fuck you doing, Joshua?” I snap, holding the bag out as he walks halfway up my front lawn. “No door side pickups. You know that!”

Actually, I do allow it, but only for guys I know, and those who are literally within walking distance of my house. Like Chen, who picks up lunch for his guys at the car wash four blocks over on the main road.

“C’mon, Dani, gimme a chance,” he taunts loudly. He drops down to one knee like he’s proposing, but he’s asking for a date, not forever. “Just one little date? A few hours of fun.”

He smiles like he’s making headway with what he probably thinks is a sweet grand gesture and an offer I can’t refuse. Too bad for him it’s not sweet, and I definitely can say no. If anything, he's just making things awkward and uncomfortable, especially amid the hoots and hollers of the guys in the other trucks. I hear some on Joshua’s side, a few shouts of ‘give him a shot, Dani!’, and others, not on mine, but on their own as they yell, ‘hurry up!’ and ‘I’ve got places to be!’

I’m sure Joshua would have fun on a date with me. He thinks my bitchiness is ‘cute’, my dark hair and eyes are ‘exotic’ because I’m not blonde and blue-eyed like he is, and he wants to play around with the ‘spice of life’ before he settles down with some basic girl he’ll eventually meet at the local bar on a Friday night.

But to me? He’s a guy who only sees me as a fun fuck story he’ll reminisce about when he’s middle aged and looking back on his boring life. I’ll be a brag he tells over the bar, or a story told on the job site for his buddies when he wants to look like a stud.

“Joshua, last chance. Get your shit out of my yard!” I holler, throwing the bag the few feet so it lands at his feet. I hate to mistreat my food that way, but I’m sure as hell not getting any closer to him.

I throw a warning look to Damien, telling him to get his guy in check, and then turn around, leaving Joshua kneeling in the yard as I go back to get the next order. I can hear a few laughs and hoots aimed at Joshua, but I’ve got too much work to do to pay it any mind. I’ve got trucks lined up and my next order is a big one.

I hurry through the house and to the back porch. I’m pulling fresh tortillas off the Blackstone and whipping together a fresh, authentic taco when arms wrap around my waist from behind and Joshua’s breath is on my neck as he murmurs, “Dani.”

There’s no thinking, just action as I whirl around, stepping to the side to break his grip. I don’t mean to, but I’m not upset when the metal spatula in my hand smacks across his face, leaving a greasy red mark on his already flushed skin along with the corner scratching him under the eye.

“Shiiiit!” Joshua grunts as he steps back, acting shocked that I wouldn’t be flattered at his advances, even though I literally just turned him down. Again. What is it with guys who can’t take no for an answer? Well, Joshua’s gonna learn today. Because the next move he makes is going to result in real blood flow.

I’m gearing up to give him a solid talking-to, but before I know what’s happening, Kyle has jumped the fence between my back yard and Kathy’s. Grabbing Joshua by the back of his shirt, he yanks him away from me before bodily picking him up and spinning him around to toss him away, putting himself between me and Joshua.

Joshua stumbles, surprised at the sudden change of physical location, and trips over his own feet. Kyle follows him to the ground, kneeling over him with one fist on the patchy dirt next to Joshua’s head and the other pointing in Joshua’s face. “You asked her out, she said no. Following her like a fucking creeper and putting your hands on her is way over the line. Now, do like the lady said—go the fuck away. And don’t come back. No more lunches for you.”

He’s stone cold, not even breathing heavily, but something in his presence says loud and clear that he will fuck Joshua up if he even thinks of making a move… toward Kyle or me.

“Whatever. Get offa me,” Joshua grunts, frozen on the ground and clearly beaten, but trying to sound tough.

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