Page 41 of Slumming It
Your move, Bucko.
Chapter 15
Reese
Her announcement hung between us in the quiet car. If she was bluffing, she was making a good show of it. Her jaw was set, and her gaze didn't waver under my silent stare.
I'd seen men double her age wither under that same look, and I was impressed in spite of myself. Maybe shedidplan on walking if she didn't get her way. But planning it and doing it were two different things, and I was liking my odds of coming out on top.
Into my silence, she said, "I mean it. I'm not going anywhere with you until you apologize."
Nice try, cupcake.I gave the passenger's side door a meaningful glance. "So you're back to walking?"
She unfolded her arms and stared at me like I was the biggest asshole she'd ever met. "I never said that. But I will if I have to."
Maybe Iwasthe biggest asshole she'd ever met. If so, this only proved that she had lived a sheltered life, surrounded by respectable do-gooders with more compassion than guts.
Ihadn't been sheltered – a good thing, too, considering what sheltering did to someone who'd been born on the wrong side of the tracks. Too much of it made you soft – an easy target for assholes bigger than myself.
Whether Emily realized it or not, I wasn't the worst guy out there, even if I was far from the best. So hey, I was willing to give her an easy out if she was smart enough to take it. "Except youdon'thave to," I told her. "I'm not kicking you out, if that's what you think."
She looked more ticked than relieved. "I guess that makes you one hell of a guy, huh?"
I was no do-gooder, and the sooner she figured this out, the better. "That's not what I said."
"Yeah, but you were thinking it."
I was thinking a lot of things – things that I hadn't thought of in years. The memories stank like yesterday's garbage, and I felt my upper lip curl in disgust. "Trust me, you have no idea what I’m thinking."
"Fine," she said. "Do you wanna know whatI'mthinking?"
"No."
"I'm thinking," she said as if I hadn't replied, "that if I give in now, I might as well tattoo 'doormat' on my forehead and call it good."
If she expected this to shame me, she had the wrong guy.Me – I had no shame."If you do," I countered, "I'll pay to see it."
"What?"
"My treat," I said. "With a fifty-buck bonus – for you, not the tattoo artist."
She looked ready to slap me. "If that's a joke, it's not funny."
I wasn't known for being a funny guy, which made the insult hit like a snowflake on a raging inferno. It melted away with no sign of having been there in the first place, leaving me feeling the same as before.
I gave her a cold smile. "Who says I'm joking?"
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Like I'd defile my forehead for fifty bucks."
"So, it's a matter of price then?"
"No. I wouldn't do it for amilliondollars."
I'd seen people do worse for less. "You sure about that?"
"Definitely."
I gave a humorless laugh. "That's easy to say when no one's offering." I glanced toward the road ahead. "So, are you done?"
