Page 54 of Slumming It
And maybe some fun along the way.
If Emily sensed me watching, she gave no sign.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway, I felt my mouth turn downward in a frown.I could've been anyone.A psycho. A killer. Or just some perverted asshole watching her on the sly as she bent over to smooth out the sheets.
Even in baggy pants, her ass looked too fine by half, and the thought of anyone else looking – or doing – annoyed me more than it should've.
Fuck.
Wanting her – much less protecting her – wasn't part of the plan, and hell if I would deviate now.
I moved forward to stand in the open doorway. "You're late."
She whirled to face me. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was gathered in a loose bun atop her head. She wore khaki pants, white sneakers, and a brown long-sleeved shirt. No nametag.
No smile either.But hey, it's not like I'd been expecting one.
Her chin lifted in that familiar way of hers as she asked in a clipped tone, "Late for what?"
I made a show of looking at my watch, the same platinum one that had irked her the other day. "It's nine o'clock."
"Yeah, so?"
"So you're nine hours late." At her blank look, I added, "You start at noon. Or did you forget?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I said. "You'll be lucky if I don't dock your pay."
She lowered her voice. "Are you fucking serious?"
The profanity surprised me. Yesterday in the car, when some might say a little cursing might've been justified, she had refrained.But not tonight.
From the look in her eyes now, all bets were off.
But it would take more than a bad attitude to stop an asshole like me. "Dead serious," I calmly replied, flicking my head toward the room down the hall, the one I had assigned to her yesterday. "Your clothes are already laid out, so get moving."
My own clothes were a throwback from the past, chosen for something specific that required Emily's cooperation. She didn't need to be happy about it, but she did need to come.
The look on her face wasn't promising. "Get moving?" Her voice rose as she said it again, more slowly this time. "Get. Moving? That's all you have to say to me?"
I shrugged. "Hey, I already told you that you're late. What else do you want?"
She stalked forward and stopped within arm's reach. "What Iwantis an apology, as I told you yesterday." But then, before I could respond with a quick sorry or a longer fuck-you, she threw up her hands and said with a bark of laughter, "You know what? Forget it. It's too freaking late."
Freaking. Not fucking.
A good sign?
Eh, hard to say.I gave my watch another glance. "Iknowyou're late, so get moving, like I said."
"Oh, for God's sake," she muttered. "You know exactly what I meant."
She was cute when she was flustered, and I almost smiled as I asked, "I do?"
"Yes. Unless you're stupid, which you're obviously not."
Now Ididsmile. "Nice of you to notice."
