Page 28 of Big Bad Bully
“Oh no, I don’t mind you here at all,” he’s quick to say. “I’m just fascinated by your process here.”
Or my ass. But whatever. I don’t mind his interest. It’s going to play in my favor in a minute here.
I put the brush on the paint roller tray with the roller and pick it up. “I’m just going to wash this stuff out, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Sure. I’ll walk you down.”
Such a gentleman.
As I brush past him, I let the roller slide off the tray. “Whoops!”
He immediately stoops to pick it up. I bump into his hip, reaching at the same time with my right hand. As I jostle him, I tug on the lanyard hanging out of his pocket and tuck the card in my back pocket.
“I got it,” he says, and we both straighten up, laughing.
“Thanks.” I grab the tray to avoid locking gazes and having a moment with this guy. Guilt floods through me.
Hopefully, he won’t get into any trouble over losing his key.
More importantly, I hope he never realizes I’m the one who took it.
I hustle off to the women’s restroom and clean my brush, roller, and tray. When I return, Jack has folded my drop cloth into a neat pile and put away the step stool I borrowed from the closet.
He turns to look at me and draws a breath.
Shit.
He’s going to ask me out.
I stoop to pick up the polyurethane can and set it on top of the paint tray.
He’s hot, but I’m not interested. More importantly, I can’t get involved with him now that I stole his keycard. It would put him in danger of losing his job–or worse.
I’m saved by his security radio going off. “Jack?”
He pulls out the walkie talkie and hits a button. “Go ahead.”
“Is that artist still up there?”
He and I look at each other in surprise. He holds my gaze as he speaks into the mouthpiece. “Yeah, I’m with her now. What’s up?”
“There’s a guy down here who says he’s her ride.”
My ride.
Billy?
What the fuck? I snicker internally at the idea of Billionaire Billy acting as my taxi.
At least his arrival made for a perfect interruption. I smile brightly. “That’s my…boyfriend.” That will stop him.
The light and hope drain from his expression. “Oh, okay.”
“You don’t have to walk me down if you don’t want.”
“Nah, I will. Let me carry this stuff for you.” He takes the paint tray from my hands and puts the drop cloth over the top.
A true gentleman. Even when he’s been dissed.
