Page 47 of Maid in America

“You could’ve just asked me to grab it for you instead of struggling like that. You’re stubborn.”

“Always have been.” She finally managed to get the bottle down. “Andclever. See?” She shook the remnants in the bottom comically before tossing it to him.

He caught it, barely, fumbling it twice before finally gaining possession. He frowned and tossed it into the black sack in his hands.

She climbed down and kicked the ottoman back into place, dusting the fabric where her shoes had been. “Not all of us are six-four giants like you.”

“What are you? Four-eleven?”

She made a face at him and set her fists on her hips. “Ha-ha. You gonna make aHobbitjoke next?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m five-five. That’s still arespectableheight. You’re acting like I’m some kind of munchkin. I’m actually the perfect height to scrunch down and box someone in the balls for making fun of me,” she threatened.

“Why are you little people so aggressive? Geez. Don’t take it out on me just because you’re vertically challenged. I’m devastatingly handsome, and you don’t hearmecomplaining about it. Cougarsloveme. I can’t go to any gathering of women over forty where I’m not getting numbers shoved at me, so, hey, we all have our crosses to bear.”

She laughed. “Oh, you fucking poor, gorgeous sap. That must be justawful.”

“You kiss your mother with that sassy-ass mouth?”

His retort changed the mood of the room in an instant. Chastity’s playful banter halted at the mere reference to Maggie.

“She and I are not on speaking terms right now. I moved out, and I’m pretty sure neither of my parents give two shits.”

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“With you?” She snorted. “No.”

Barrett reeled back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why not? I’m not just a pretty face. I can be a good listener, too. Lay it on me. What’d you do, say ‘shit’ at the dinner table?”

She placed a shredded throw pillow in his bag, packing it down. Barrett tied it closed, their faces only feet from each other, heat radiating through the air between them.

Tossing the bag to the side, Barrett grabbed the next empty from the roll and draped it over the arm of Nussbaum’s antique tufted camelback sofa.

Chastity kneeled, pressing her face to the carpet to look beneath the couch. She spotted an empty beer can and reached for it.

Barrett watched as her firm ass hoisted high into the air, wishing she was at his apartment, stark naked, in the same readied position so that he could be inside of her again, watching her mop of colorful hair bounce forward with every pounding thrust of his hips from behind. He struggled to keep his cock from stiffening.

She spoke, shaking him from his fantasy. “When people know you’re the pastor’s kid, you’re supposed to act like asaintday and night. You’re under this, like, constant scrutiny. It leaves no room to be human. You’re bound to be a disappointment no matter what.”

She sat back on her heels and tossed the dented can into his bag.

“You’re anything but a letdown, Aphrodite.”

She smiled at the mention of the fake name. Barrett held out a hand, and she rose to her feet without his help.

“See? Stubborn.”

She pointed at the trash bag in his clutches. “You maids get paid well to do this?”

“Maybemostdon’t, but usually, I’d be doing this in tiny Flash Gordon underwear. The hourly rate is a little better than my last job hauling heavy-ass furniture all around, but if you do well, my buddy says the tips are sometimes incredible. It’s true, too. Had a chick tip me like two hundred bucks yesterday for a four-hour gig.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, and all I did was clean her office and scrub fly shit off her chandelier.”

“That’s it?”

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