Page 97 of A Little Broken

“What the hell?” the stranger squeals. She stares at the dark stain on her red satin dress, and my head falls forward.

Well, isn’t this fantastic?

At least I didn’t fall down the stairs, or push this woman down them.

Right?

With a deep breath, I push to my feet, ignoring the scattered beer bottles, and offer the stranger my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re going to be,” the woman spits. Her face twists in disgust as she shakes her index finger at me. “By the time I’m finished with?—”

The words are lost on her tongue as she looks up at someone behind me.

“Careful,” Paxton warns. His tone is low and growly and laced with way more sex appeal than is even fair at this point.

The stranger’s lips part on a gasp and she pushes herself up before taking a step back. “Y-you’re Pax?—”

“The one and only,” he confirms. “I’m also the owner of this house, and this beautiful woman is my guest of honor.” His hand runs along the curve of my hip before dropping back to his side. “Now, you were saying?”

“S-she spilled?—”

“Yes, yes I did,” I interrupt. “And for that, I am super sorry. Would you like to trade?” I motion to the dress Paxton gifted me while the man’s amusement seeps from his chest and into my back.

“She’s kidding,” he says.

“I’m not kidding,” I volley.

“And what wouldyouwear?” he challenges me.

Twisting to face him, I prop my hand on my hip and raise my chin. “I’m sure the maid outfit is still here somewhere…”

His brow lifts. “I mean, if it’s on the menu.”

I fight back my smile, refusing to take the bait no matter how much I want to. “I can fight my own battles.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, but you’ll have to cut me some slack for?—”

My phone buzzes between us, interrupting Pax as we stand in the middle of the hallway, chest to chest. Annoyed, I pull it out of my purse. It’s Lia. Again. She’s called at least a dozen times over the last few days. She’s also sent that many cryptic text messages, asking—no begging—me to call her. The cherry on top was when she even sicced my parents on me, which was the final nail in the coffin. Can she seriously not take a hint? I don’t want to talk to her. I never want to talk to her. Not since?—

“Who is it?” Pax murmurs.

“No one of importance.” I look up at him again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

His hand wraps around my bicep, preventing my escape. “You’re late.”

I cock my head. “Late?”

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Dock it from my pay,” I dare him.

“With this attitude, I might.” His attention falls to the beer bottles in my hands. “You’re working?”

“You paid me to be here.”

“I paid to get you here,” he clarifies. “I told the rest of the staff to make sure you don’t lift a finger.”

Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I say, “Too bad I’m a terrible listener.”

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