Page 37 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
In the bathroom, I deal with the condom and clean up. When I come back to the bedroom, she’s already crawled under my covers. “I’m spending the night,” she tells me.
“Well good. We’re not going to make it through everything I need to do to you before sunrise.”
She giggles. “Seriously, Evan Young, I like you so much.”
I chuckle and climb into bed next to her. “Do you like eggs or pancakes for breakfast?” I ask her.
“Neither. I don’t really eat breakfast.”
I groan. “Damn. And you were so close to being perfect.”
She snuggles in against my side as if we’ve been sleeping together for years. “Don’t worry, after I recover a little, I’ll suck your cock and you will forget anything other than thinking I am the most amazing woman you’ve ever met.”
“Deal,” I tease, resting my hand on her ass and pulling her closer.
But I’m already thinking that she’s more than amazing, and it’s going to be damn hard to say goodbye to her in July.
CHAPTER 10
Tucker
“Mr. Hastings, how are you today?”a cool blonde with a very professional smile asks me from behind the front desk when I enter the office of Banks, Anderson, Davis, and Banks.
“I’m downright shitty,” I tell her flatly. “How are you?”
I have a headache, the coffee I’m carrying in a paper cup is cold, and we’ve been behind schedule all day because I fired Joe, the catcalling asshole. He might be a prick to women, but the crew listens to him. Without his barking orders, the crew was like toddlers wandering around an amusement park unsupervised. Safety regulations were violated—the replacement forklift driver was sent home after it was obvious he was high as a damn kite—and three guys went on lunch and didn’t return for three hours.
Add to that I honestly don’t understand the legal paperwork I signed, and I barely slept last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about Finley Anderson getting fucked by a suit, and I’m in a really bad mood.
Mama said there’d be days like this, and she wasn’t fucking joking.
Today can suck my dick.
The receptionist’s eyes widen.
For a split second, I think I said that last part out loud, but then I realize she’s just reacting to my own response to her very innocent and perfunctory question about my day. No one asks, “How are you?” and actually expects an honest answer.
“I…” she doesn’t seem to know what to say.
Contrite, I put my hand up. “My apologies. Rough day at work. I just need to drop off this paperwork for Mr. Davis.” I waggle the envelope Finley gave me yesterday in the air.
I don’t want to see my lawyer or Finley. I want to ditch the paperwork and text my buddies to meet me at our favorite dive bar for a beer.
“Let me let Mr. Davis know,” she says, fingers clacking on her keyboard. “He’ll be right out.”
I wave the envelope harder. “I don’t need to wait. Just give this to him.” I’m already backing up one boot step at a time. I’m not in the mood to be polite right now and I really can’t take any bad news.
The paperwork sounded pretty damn ominous, from what I could glean from it. A contract for the firm to negotiate on my behalf, to file an affidavit, and a bunch of other stuff that sounded like this is not going to be wrapped up tomorrow.
“I just pinged Mr. Davis,” she says, clearly undeterred. “He’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll take it to Christopher,” Finley says, popping up from behind a cubicle wall. “I’m working on this case, Shonda.”
Shonda looks relieved to have someone running interference. “Oh, great. Thanks, Finley.’ She gives me a look like she’s scared of me, then returns her gaze to her computer.
With a heavy sigh, I turn to face Finley, who right now feels like my nemesis. Like she’s a metaphor for everything that hasgone wrong today. Like she’s the mischievous, bratty little witch wreaking havoc in my life—and sleep.
Which she is.
