Page 59 of Hell Hath No Fury
Alex nods. "Yep. Derrick said as long as it takes."
"Did he, really?" I question. "Since when can he stand to be in the same room with me longer than necessary?"
"Since—" Alex elbows Mark in the stomach, cutting him off.
"Since he's a worrier," Alex says hastily and Derrick looks at him like he's lost his mind.
"I am?" Derrick asks.
Alex nods. "Yep. He's chivalrous to damsels in distress."
I snort. "I just bet."
Derrick frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what that means 007."
Alex winces. Derrick frowns harder.
Mark laughs. "Your reputation precedes you."
"My reputation or assumptions?" Derrick questions.
"A lot of the first, maybe a little of the latter," I admit.
He nods. "Talk about stereotyping."
"I call 'em like I see 'em, and I see Jamie fending off a whole lot of unhappy women via phone and when they show up at the office. You don't even bother to dismiss them yourself. You make poor Jamie do it," I chide.
"She's got you there, buddy," Mark informs him.
"Maybe. But I make no excuses for having a healthy sexual appetite," Derrick informs me.
"Or tossing women aside like trash when you're finished with them," I chastise.
"You don't know that. Here you are again with the assumptions," Derrick argues.
"Again, I call 'em like I see 'em. I really do see 'em. I hear them cry or yell and anything in between," I scold.
"I make them no promises. They know how it is. If they're hoping for more or to change me, that's their own fault," Derrick replies.
Mark nods. "He's right on that one."
"Maybe, but it doesn't make it right. I'm feeling better and I'd like to go home," I inform them.
Alex steps forward. "Your clothes are in the room you slept in. Or we can offer you a t-shirt and sweatpants, or shorts if you prefer?"
"My clothes are fine." I'm so upset by Derrick's words. Am I upset because of how he plays the game? Or am I upset because he'll never break the rules—for me? I sigh as I walk down the hallway and close the bedroom door behind me.
I'm an idiot. Why did I let that get to me? Why did I let him see that?
There's a knock on the door. I stride toward it and open it.
There stands Derrick.
"We need to talk."
I gesture him in and close the door behind him. Those are the four worst words ever said between a woman and man in the history of mankind, and I'm on the receiving end.
