Page 14 of Sassy Love
Keep your enemies closer and all that.
I dump a basket of muffins and a large Starbucks coffee over the pink tape boundary and into enemy territory. Rawlins doesn’t bother looking up from his laptop, his big mitts flying over the keyboard.
Poor fucking keys . . .
Each swift stroke shifts the tendons across the back of his hands.
The pads of his fingers tapping with precise caresses.
Fuck a girl sideways.
I clear my throat. “Breakfast.”
I sink into my chair and open my laptop. What is he doing here so stinking early, anyway?
“Already ate,” he grunts, still not looking up.
Sorry, Mills, your strategy died in the water.
It’s only now I realize his hair is damp. A small duffel that looks like a gym bag sits to one side of his chair by the table leg.
So, I try again.
“Get a good workout in this morning, then?” I say, lacing the words with the sweetest tone I can muster.
Urgh, it feels like acid in my throat.
“Don’t work out on Tuesdays.” His eyes don’t leave the screen.
Okay, rude.
“Okay, I’ll bite, why is your hair wet?”
Now, he looks up. “It’s not wet.”
“Um, yeah it is. Did you walk through a storm on your way to work after your hearty breakfast?”
His jaw clenches before he says, “Nope.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this is me trying to play nice, Rawlins. Take it or leave it.”
“I don’t want your nice, Lamont. I want your professionalism. And cooperation.”
I shake my head and open my inbox, muttering, “Bet that gets all the girls wet.”
“Sorry, I missed that.”
“Good, you were supposed to.” I don’t let my eyes wander up to the deep blues I can feel burning into my face.
He wants to do this the hard way? The hard way it is.
“I need the budget projection for the next quarter by the end of the day.”
“Email a request.”
“I’m requesting it now.”
Without meeting my gaze, he sits back in his chair, loosening his tie as if that’s what’ll kill him. “In writing, remember?”
