Page 7 of The CEO I Hate

“I’m staying here,” Jake insisted. “And I’m not letting you or anyone else hire a nurse or a housekeeper to take care of me, so get that idea out of your head. Youandmy parentsandGabrielle can all just stop with the nagging shit.”

I winced slightly. “Comparing me to your parents, man? That’s harsh.” Frank and Harriet Collins were well-intentioned but also kind of the worst. Ever since the injury, they couldn’t shut up about the fact they’d warned Jake about how dangerous firefighting could be.

Jake shrugged, the frustration in his expression easing a little. “Okay, maybe you’re not quitethatbad. They’ve just really been piling on lately. With meandMia.” His eyes locked with mine as he said the next part. “As if she doesn’t have enough shit to deal with.”

My chest tightened as I thought about yesterday’s coffee shop incident. “Wait, shetoldyou about that?” I blurted. Honestly, did she really have to run tattling to her brother?

Jake opened his mouth, but at that moment, Mia herself breezed through the door, arms full of groceries and cheeks flushed from the wind.

She had her hair pulled up in a messy twist, a pencil stabbed through it like she’d been scribbling notes and got distracted halfway through. Leggings, a ribbed top, sneakers—the kind of thrown-together look that shouldn’t have been worth noticing. And I forgot, for a second, how to look away.

Like the universe was trying to piss me off on purpose.

3

LIAM

“Speak of the devil,” I muttered under my breath.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Mia asked, talking a mile a minute. “I just ran into Gabrielle downstairs. She’spissedat you. And she told me to let myself in.”

“Don’t you always let yourself in now that you have a key?” Jake asked. His voice still sounded strained, but some of the stiffness left his posture. He was and had always been a marshmallow for the baby sister who was born when he was ten years old. The prime age to become a super-protective big brother.

“It’s for emergencies,” Mia said. “They were having a sale on frozen pizza, so I stocked you up.”

Jake snorted, but there was only the slightest hint of amusement in it. “Your definition of an emergency and mine are very different.”

Mia walked further into the apartment, dropping the bags on the kitchen counter, freezing the moment she saw me. Her nose wrinkled like she’d just smelled something bad. “Oh, you’re here.”

“What did you do yesterday?” I accused. “Run straight to your brother and whine about me hurting your feelings?”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Jake asked, frowning as he slouched against the arm of his wheelchair.

Mia crossed her arms against her chest, huffing a deep breath. “I didn’t say anything about the coffee shop!”

“Obviously you did!” I tried not to notice the way her shirt clung to her. For the millionth time, I told myselfnotto notice those forbidden curves.

It didn’t matter that she’d grown up into averyattractive woman. She was still Jake’s baby sister, and I knew all too well how much Jake hated each and every one of the guys Mia had dated. No way would I be added to that list—especially not now, when Jake was struggling and needed his best friend by his side.

Holding to that resolve would be a hell of a lot easier if Mia didn’t look so good. It was all the skin on display in those damn tank tops she liked to wear. And the way she tied those unruly curls up on the top of her head, exposing that long, slender neck. And the way her eyelashes fluttered at me from behind those dark-framed glasses she wore when she was working. Sometimes I just wanted to pull them off and drag her to me and?—

Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me?

I wasn’t going to think of her that way. It would be wrong. Jake had made that clear the one and only time he’d caught me looking her way. And, besides, this was Mia. Annoying, infuriating, lives-to-get-under-my-skin Mia.

“Contrary to your belief,” Mia snapped. “My entire day didn’t revolve around you and the coffee shop.”

“Seriously, what the hell are you two talking about?” Jake asked again, clearly done with the back-and-forth.

“No, it probably also consisted of drawing Miles’s alternative milk options,” I snarked back. I’d forever be annoyed she’d written me into her damn webcomic. That she’d twisted me into a smug, emotionally constipated caricature. That she’d mademethe joke. And the worst part?

That I’d let her.

“Careful, Smiles,” Mia sang. “That vein in your forehead is starting to throb. We wouldn’t want it to burst.” She tilted her head. “Actually…”

I scowled at her. “You’d just love that.”

She shrugged.

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