Page 95 of A Little Broken

Where to start?

Puffing out my cheeks, I say, “Okay, so…Pax is the music guy. The one with the music room.”

“You mean, the house you said you’re moving into before getting caught sleeping in said music room?”

“That’s the one,” I confirm with a mock thumbs up.

Her eyes bulge, making her look like she just saw a cockamouse—a half-mouse, half-cockroach—scurry across my comforter. “You’re joking.”

My mouth bunches on one side as I shake my head slowly. “Not joking.”

“So, what does that have to do with you working tonight?”

“A few nights ago, Pax asked me to go to a party at his place, but I turned him down. Apparently, he found a loophole and reached out to my boss, requesting my presence so I can make sure the house stays relatively clean while it’s filled with hundreds of guests for the night. Because that doesn’t sound like a bullshit excuse at all.”

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep her amusement in check, she muses, “Sneaky.”

“Something like that.” I face her fully. “And don’t sound so impressed.”

“What? Is there something wrong with being impressed with a guy who might just be your perfect match?”

“Why? Because he’s manipulative and can’t take no for an answer?”

She grins. “Exactly.”

Reaching for her hand, I beg, “Come with me.” My grip tightens with a needy squeeze. “Please?”

“You want me to come to the party?”

“If you don’t want me to get fired for bailing or potentially stabbing the client, then yes. And it isn’t a want. It’s a need. Please?”

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I toss back at her. “You can clean, or cling to my arm, or…whatever you want. I’ll even give you half the money I make from the job.”

Taking in the look of desperation painted on my face, she caves almost instantly. “Fiiiine, but you don’t need to pay me.”

“If you’re cleaning, I’m paying.”

“I think we both know cleaning isn’t exactly a chore for me,” she points out.

She’s not wrong.

“Still paying you,” I argue.

“Fiiiine,” she repeats. “But only because we both know you’re more stubborn than me, and I’ll love the front-row seat to see how this is going to turn out.”

“Gee, thanks.”

With a grin, she says, “You’re welcome.”

Satisfied, I slump back into the pillows on my bed, reach for the remote, and resume the show, typing a response to my boss.

Me

I’ll be there.

Boss

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