Page 45 of Billion Dollar Dispute

“Are you serious?” His chair screeches across the floor as he shifts.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I hold his gaze steady, daring him to argue.

He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Whatever. But then we will need to call Chad when you bring yours in.”

“Why are you so pissy?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intended.

“I thought you’d trust me,” he fires back.

At least he didn’t lie and say,Nothing.

But I barely know him, so I laugh. “After one hangout with my son?”

His jaw clenches, and he remains silent. The air between us thickens with unspoken words.

“Sorry, but it takes a lot more than that. I’ve been burned one too many times.” The words tumble out before I can think better of it.

Shit!Why did I have to say that? My stomach twists as I realize what I’ve just revealed. Opening myself up and being vulnerable wasn’t part of the plan. Not here with him, not now.

Silence fills the room, and I get up to throw out my dirty napkin and grab a new bottle of water.

“Food’s here,” he announces, pushing out his chair, and without waiting for a response, he strides toward the door, his hands sliding into his pockets as he goes.

Molly's eyes burn a hole in my head.

“What?” I whisper-shout.

She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Don’twhatme,” she keeps her voice just as low. “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t,” I reply, a little too quickly.

She rolls her eyes and murmurs, “You two keep eyeballing each other. You think you’re subtle, well, you’re a walking billboard. With fucking neon lights.”

I scoff. “Yes, he’s nice to look at. But he’s annoying.”

“Nice to look at? Jem, stop being scared. Have some fun.”

“I am having fun,” I scoff.

“No, have some fun with him,” she adds.

“Why don’t you go for him?” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, my stomach bottoms out. I shouldn’t have said that. What if she does go for him? Unwelcome feelings of jealousy creep in and I hate it. It’s not who I am.

“He’s not looking at me. His eyes don’t…” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper when his heavy steps indicate his impending return, “leave…you.”

He enters the room with a brown paper bag, moves to the fridge, and pulls out take-out-sized boxes. His broad back and ass are hard to miss. I rub my hand through my hair as I reluctantly tear my gaze from him.

No, Jem. Not him. Hell… no.

But my mind wanders to Molly’s words.

His eyes don’t leave you.

I must zone out because I didn’t see him return to the table or hear Molly speak.

“Jem,” Molly calls in the distance. But it’s the touch on my thigh that snaps me back to reality. Gasping at the warmth of the large, firm hand gently squeezing me, I blink rapidly.

The hand on my thigh belongs to the same person I’ve been having the wickedest fantasies about.

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