Page 44 of Legal

“Morning, sunshine.”

I screamed at the form that’d just materialized in front of me and almost fell backward. What the…? I squinted, and Chase came into view. What the fuck?

Bam. Bam. Bam. Pop Rocks went off in my brain, and everything rushed back to me. Tequila—bam. Cotton candy stand—bam. Fireworks—bam. Orgasm—bam. Chase—bam.

Fuck.

“Sorry.” He peered closer at me. “What the hell’s stuck on your face?”

Huh? I slapped around and felt the tape cemented above my brows horizontally. I hadn’t even put it on correctly. I ripped it off, figuring I must have stuck it on sometime in the middle of the night without realizing. I always kept the tape easily accessible in my bedside drawer, along with my vibrator collection.

“Uh, it’s nothing.” Wait a frickin’ minute. “Did… Did you sleep over?”

He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Con’ll be here any minute to pick me up.” He smiled, and I glared at him. “I’m glad I got to see you this morning before I left.”

I tugged my robe closer together and hugged myself. It was crazy that I was freezing. I looked away, knowing I resembled something the cat dragged in, but at least I fell asleep with my makeup on. It could have been worse. Although I hadn’t bothered with a mirror yet, so the jury was still out on that one.

“Why’s it so cold in here?” I asked.

“I fixed your a/c.”

My body tensed. “You what?”

“Yeah, you were mumbling last night about it being broken and how you had to fix it.” I scrunched up my face. When had I done that? “So I took a look this morning and rigged something up.” He shrugged. “Simple enough. Took me all of five minutes.”

“But… but I was going to do that today!” I think my voice bordered on shouting but wasn’t sure if that’s just how it sounded inside my skull. “I was fully capable of fixing it myself.”

Chase held up his hands. “Settle down, Jillian. I know you’re capable. I just thought I’d help you out a bit, that’s all.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

I stormed off back to my bedroom and slammed the door. I flopped on the bed, then curled into a ball. What was wrong with me? My PMS wasn’t set to kick in for another week yet. Was my reaction off-the-wall irrational? Possibly the way I’d expressed it, but damn it all to Hell; that was supposed to bemyproject, and he took it away from me.

I closed my eyes, needing that water desperately but needing to avoid Chase even more. He said he was leaving soon anyway. I’d drink then. I clenched my fists.He had no business staying over without asking me first. Dammit, I can take care of myself.

I peeked through my lids, thinking I heard a car door. I waited a few more minutes and then padded over to the window. Nothing in the driveway. When I glanced at my clock, I noticed it was… one o’clock? Holy shit, I never slept this late. I must have dozed off again. Well, at least I knew Chase was long gone.

My gut twisted. I physically felt like crap, and I deserved it. I’d acted like a bitch to him. I went out to the kitchen and got my water, drinking three glasses in rapid succession. I noticed the full coffee pot. I went over and palmed the glass. It was cold. He obviously made it several hours ago. I dumped it and started a new one.

Sunday. It was Sunday. Sometimes I worked if the mood struck, which happened more often than not. Today would not be one of those days. I was going to plant my lazy ass down and not do a thing. Except a shower. I felt just as grimy on the outside as I did on the inside.

I threw a frozen pizza into the oven before heading to the bathroom to scrub myself clean. I’d have to bow out of the family dinner later, and that also made me feel horrible. But I had to do it; I thought it best for everyone if I remained quarantined to the house for the day.

I turned the dial as scalding as I could take and stepped underneath the water. I didn’t know if I should cry or throw things or apologize. Technically, Chase didn’t do anything wrong, but who did he think he was taking it upon himself to go around fixing my things? Maybe I should just give him my busted toaster to tinker with or hand over my lawn mower that needed a tune-up. Did he think he was Mr. Handyboy?

Damn, Jillian. Chase was right. I needed to settle down, to look at it with a rational eye. I dumped a wad of shampoo in my hand and rubbed it into my scalp. The facts were clear: I wanted him for his body and what he could do with it. I did not want him to insert himself into my life. I didn’t want him to sleep over or help around the house. His cock. My pussy. End of story.

When I finished my shower, I scarfed down the majority of the pizza and topped it off with a couple cups of black coffee before I even made it out of the kitchen.

I turned on the radio, turned off the air conditioner, and stretched out on the couch. As I lay there, I came to the realization that yes, I was a bitch to him, and no, he didn’t deserve it. Especially after the way he made me feel the night before. But that also didn’t mean there shouldn’t be boundaries.

As long as Chase knew his place, everything would be just fine.

I woke bright and early on Monday morning, feeling like I’d regenerated a whole new body during the night. Nothing like having the sleep schedule of a feline to put a little spring back into your step.

My day of Sunday-slacking paid off, and I was more than ready to dive into work. I showered and got ready quickly, energy coursing through me even though I hadn’t had a drop of coffee yet.

I was about to start the routine of going around the house and switching on the fans until I remembered the air was working. I turned it on, hearing the click. It was still working. I decided to let it run for a while to cut down on the humidity; it was better for the house anyway.

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