I fold my hands in front of me and set them on the table, keeping my posture straight and my shoulders back.
Nash nods and sits. His stupid long legs bump into mine and I quickly pull my feet back and tuck them under my chair.
“I was out of line yesterday.”
I snort. “You think?” Damn. I need to work on holding back some of my snark.
“I apologize for some of the things I said to you.”
Wait. What? So he didn’t tell vicious lies to my boss? And he’s apologizing? Poker isn’t my game, but I know how to put on a show. Right now, I’m putting on a show of an emotionless teacher.
“Some. Whichthingsare you apologizing for?”
Nash lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “I was rude and disrespectful to you. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Again, not what I anticipated coming out of his mouth. Still not good enough though. “There were a lot of words said. Please refresh my memory as to which words you didn’t mean and which words you did. Just so it’s clear.”
Yeah. I’m going to make him repeat the cruel words just to make him cringe. If I thought the apology was forced, it wouldn’t matter, but the guilt on his face seems genuine. Riley is adamant he’s a nice guy, and his parents are super sweet. If he’s truly one of the good guys, then I want him to feel the guilt deep down to his core.
Call me petty, but I’m a woman who doesn’t bend to any man.
Unless it’s over a table. My eyes flick to the space next to us and I have a quick flash of me draped over it and Nash taking me from behind. I shake the thought away and clear my throat, waiting for his response.
“I’m not going to repeat it, Kendall.”
“Miss Wentworth.”
Nash closes his eyes and dips his head. “I was frustrated and stressed when I came to pick up Paisley. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my tongue lashing.”
Dear God. Does everything that comes out of his mouth have to be a sexual innuendo or euphemism? I’m not letting him off the hook so easily though. I cross my arms and tilt my head, waiting for him to continue. Watching him squirm in his seat almost has me cracking my façade and smirking. I bite it back.
“I’m thankful and appreciative for your help on Monday. My dad’s bronchitis is getting worse, and now my mom is sick as well.”
I drop my elbows and soften my glare. “Your mother too? Is there anyone taking care of them? Anything I can do?”
It’s a stupid question. I don’t know them and there’s not much I can do. I’m not a nurse. The knee-jerk response to care for those in need is inherent.
The line between Nash’s brows furrows as if he’s confused by my reaction. “Um. They’ll be okay. Thanks.”
I nibble on my bottom lip. Nash’s dark eyes drop to my mouth and his tongue darts across his lower lip. I hadn’t meant it to be a seductive move, but here we are.
“Let’s get back to that apology, shall we?” I cross my arms again and his gaze lowers to my cleavage.
It’s momentary, so brief I almost don’t even notice it, but that’s probably only because my top isn’t low cut. I don’t dress to impress five year olds. I dress for the job, but also to feel good about myself as well. My top is conservative, if not slightly form fitting.
My bra and panties, though...they’re porn star worthy. I wear them for me and me alone.
“I was out of line, Ken—Miss Wentworth. I’m sorry for making you feel like...”
“A slut?”
I appreciate the grimace that takes over his handsome face.
“A cheap floozy who instructs kindergartners on how fuck can be used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective, interjection, and pronoun?”
Nash lifts his gaze to meet mine and blinks a few times. He opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it, then says, “I must have missed that grammar lesson. Verb and adjective, I get. Noun, interjection, and pronoun?”
I roll my eyes. “Pronoun. I punched fuck-face in the throat when he insulted me. Conjunction. I punched him in the face, fuck the consequences. Noun. I don’t give a fuck.”