Page 53 of Mother Parker
“Oh, are you, milady? Trust me, you don’t need to try that hard.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You love me. Everybody does,” Hwan said, and something tumbled in my stomach.
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“Whatever. I need the restroom. All this tea has blasted my bladder wide open,” Carson said, making his way to the restrooms in a symphony of Hwan’s laughter.
I watched him, the man that seemed to amuse my boss so much. He was tall and muscular, but I was more so. He had brown eyes, dirty-blond hair, and an angular face that could be considered attractive. I supposed. The asshole had his shirt half open, leaving his hairy chest exposed even though it was getting cold out. Fucking show-off. And his ass was perfectly round and squeezable.
Whatever!
“Are you okay, Mr. Dorothy?” Hwan asked from the table full of bubble tea.
I turned to him with half-slitted eyes.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I said.
Hwan’s hair was mermaid-green today. I didn’t know how he did it. One day he’d have pink hair. The next, it’d be indigo or green like it was today. Either he went through a shit ton of bleach and color every day, or hair coloring was far more advanced than I thought.
I liked the green. It made him look…ethereal and a little edgier.
But I preferred the pink. It was nice on him.
“I don’t know. ‘Cause you look like you’re about to murder that towel. Ease up on the scrubbing, or you’ll chip the paint off the table.” He grinned.
“Funny,” I said with a growl.
“I know I am,” he replied, completely undeterred by my attitude. “But when are you going to laugh?”
He got up and walked toward me, holding his phone against his chest.
“When you say somethingactuallyfunny,” I told him.
He paused, his eyes creased, lips pouted, and a moment later, he smirked and turned away from me.
I went back to the stupid table and wiped it with the stupid towel trying to take my stupid boss out of my stupid mind. Kinda impossible when he was right there, snapping the same shots of his shop that he did every day.
“What’s so fascinating about a pair of chairs?” I asked before I could stop myself.
I didn’t know why I even cared.
Hwan stopped and looked at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, I suppose,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. He ambled toward me, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t turn my back to him.
“Oh, come on, Mr. Dorothy. I know you’ve got a question burning in that big chest of yours,” he insisted.
“Are you trying to say I have boobs?”
Hwan raised his hands in the air and laughed.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He’d noticed my chest?
