Page 11 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"You can't even wait for me to clean them?" I shake my head and take them from her.

"What was that saying about God made dirt…" London scowls like I stole candy from a baby.

"Dirt is gross, London. Aren't you afraid you'll bite into a worm or something?"

London's face tenses and it's then that I remember she's a vegetarian. She gawks at the strawberry in her hand.

"I'm mostly joking," I lie, because it appears she's already been through enough lately, she doesn't need to worry about eating something that goes against her vegetarianism.

After a quick soak in the baking soda, vinegar, and water mixture, London grimaces at watching all the debris go down the drain. "Wow, that actually is gross."

"I told you."

The bagels pop up in the toaster but before I can get them, London hops out of her chair.

"Where are the plates?" she asks as she bites back some pain, I don't think she notices me notice.

Why she's being so proud, I'll never know. I'm just a stranger, why does she think she has to act like she isn't suffering?

I nod in their direction instead of shutting her down even though I really want to. If she gets the plates, there's a chance she'll knock something over, or worse, hurt herself in the process.

She surprises me by getting them and not doing either, not until she reaches into the toaster to get the bagels. "Shit." London flinches and shakes her hand.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're accident-prone?" I walk over, get both bagels out, and set them on the plate, ignoring the way her emerald eyes glare at me. "You need to be wrapped in bubble wrap."

"Yeah, well, did anyone ever tell you that you're grumpy?"

"Yeah, you. At least twice already." I continue back over to the sink, rinsing the strawberries and cutting the stems off before London can come over and do it herself, no doubt stabbing her jugular in the process.

I don't know why she's so hell-bent on calling me grumpy, though, because I'm not. I just prefer to be alone and not bothered. That doesn't make megrumpy.

"You really should be nicer to me," I say, glancing over my shoulder. "This is my apartment, remember?"

London brings both plates over and rummages through a few drawers before finding a knife. She slathers both with more cream cheese than humanly consumable, and licks the thing clean. At least it was only a butter knife.

I cut a few strawberries and place them on her plate, and then on mine. If I'm being honest, I've never really liked strawberries, but something about the way she was eating one made me want to reconsider…

"Do you have plans today?" London asks me.

"Yes."

"Oh." She picks up a slice of berry and pops it into her mouth.

"I have to finish the…project…I was working on last night."

"Oh," she says again, only this time her tone has shifted completely. "Right. Yeah. For sure."

"Why?"

"I was just wondering."

"Really?" I put the rest of the cut-up strawberries into a glass container, place them back into the fridge, and clean the sink of the stems, tossing them into the trash and wiping off the counter.

"Archer."

I look up at London, assuming that something is wrong. "What?"

Her face softens and it's the first time I'm really noticing the freckles that dust her nose and cheeks. She was in rough shape when she came in last night, but now, she's showered and sort of rested. "Sit down. Eat your food. Drink your coffee, it's getting cold."

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