Page 15 of The Opposite Effect

I’ve already come this far, so what’s a few more miles?

When the bus comes to a halt in front of a fancy apartment building on the most expensive street in Ravenshoe, I pull my bike onto the curb behind it. I’m not at all surprised when Clara hops off the bus. Just seeing her in this expensive setting strengthens my belief that she was attempting to prank me earlier tonight.

Keeping her chin held high, she saunters toward the guarded doors.Just before she enters the heavily manned foyer, she spins around to face me. Her pupils are wide, exposing that she’s rattled from her brief encounter with the rough side of Ravenshoe, but even frightened, she holds herself with a sense of dignity and class. She has the type of poise no etiquette class could teach. It is infused in her blood.

“Thank you.”

A grin tugs on my lips. From the look on her face, you’d swear it was the first time she’s ever said thank you.

I inwardly chuckle.It probably is.

“You shouldn’t catch the bus at any time, let alone this late at night. It was a stupid thing to do.”

Even though her lips thin in grimness, she nods. “I’ll add it to my long list of things I’m unqualified to do.” Her snarls reveal herstubbornness is still loitering in the shadows. “I’ve found out today I can’t work at a tattoo parlor, a café, or even clean the gas station toilets on the outskirts of town.” The hardness of her lips is firm. “Who would have thought you’d need a degree from Harvard to clean a washroom?”

My brows furrow. “You’re that desperate for a job you’re willing to clean toilets for a buck?”

With her gaze planted straight ahead, she briefly nods.

My heart freezes. I honestly hadn’t expected her to say yes.

“Fingers crossed, biker bars and strip clubs aren’t as demanding because at the rate I’m going, they’ll be my only viable options,” she mutters before spinning on her heels.

Strip clubs?Even knowing she’s most likely goading me, and I don’t know her from a bar of soap, I hate the thought of any woman working in a sleazy club just to make a dime. My momma did it, and I swore I’d never let any woman I know follow in her disastrous footsteps.

Going against my better judgment, I blurt out, “You start Tuesday at two,” before my brain can compile a rejection.

Clara freezes halfway into the entrance of her building. Her shoulders rise as she gulps in a deep breath before her eyes snap to mine. “Really?”

When I nod, she smiles a heart-stopping grin that has my cock stiffening all over again.

Don’t even think about it. She’s way above your paygrade.

“You have a two-week trial to prove yourself. If you fuck it up or scare away any of my customers, your ass will be out on the curb faster than I can snap my fingers.”

“I won’t. I promise,” she guarantees, her assuring eyes adding to the strength of her words.

I arch my brow. “And you’re not to take the bus,” I warn while glaring into her eyes. “This is not a negotiable term. If you turn upto Inked on the bus, turn around and get straight back on it because your ass will be fired.”

Her face pales, and her breathing shallows. She looks more concerned now than she did when I began inking her virgin skin. “I don’t have any money to put gas in my car,” she mumbles, her quiet words relaying her embarrassment.

Jesus Christ! What the fuck am I getting myself into?

I dig my hand into the back pocket of my jeans to pull out my wallet and snag a twenty from the small selection of notes inside. I hold the note a few inches from my chest before locking my eyes with Clara.

If she wants my money, she’ll have to come and get it.

A stretch of silence passes between us as her eyes dance between the crumpled note in my hand and my face. After exhaling a deep breath, she spans the distance between us, her steps shaky and reserved.

Just before she removes the twenty from my grasp, I pull it out of her reach. “This is not a loan. It’s an advance. I’ll be taking it out of your first paycheck.”

She fights her hardest battle, endeavoring to keep her tears at bay before curtly nodding. “Okay. Good,” she says, her voice stronger than the weakness in her eyes.

She removes the twenty from my hand, folds it up, then places it in the pocket of her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmurs before walking into her apartment building, not once glancing back at me sitting on my Harley, shocked into silence.

Even though I could see the defeated look in her eyes when she accepted my money, I hope she just played me for a fool. No matter how much she irritates me, I’d rather have her pranking me than be so desperate for a job she turns up to Inked on Tuesday morning.

CHAPTER FOUR

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