Page 77 of Tempt Her

“No.”

He tightens his skinny belt with sailboats on it. “Then you have no business with her anymore.”

I want to wrap that fucking, douchebag belt around his neck.

No, wait. Douche is for pussies, and pussies are amazing.

I want to wrap that little dick and droopy balls belt around his skinny neck and squeeze until his skull pops.

All the things I want to do to him, and some, secretly, I will. But all the things I want to say? I remember Cade and our plan and bite back my pride so hard, letting my brain work instead.

“Fine,” I answer him. “She gets on my nerves anyway.”

Gentry hates Cade Bryant so much; the lie is an easy sell. But the mention of nerves fires his as he whips his beady eyes to Ford. Snapping at him next, “What are you doing? I thought y’all were done in here.”

“Found some faulty wiring.”Ford’s lying lips behind his beard are so hot.“It won’t pass code. I’m preparing a quote to fix it.”

No, Ford’s getting my back, making me exhale with relief, trying to hide everything I want to feel for Ford if he’d just let me in.

Gentry bites. “What do you mean, faulty?”

“Your refrigerator should be on its own circuit, but it’s not. I noticed lights flickering in your owner’s suite when we painted it. You’ve got bad wiring somewhere, and it’s a fire hazard.”

I want to kiss Ford. I want to rush him and hug him and wrap around him and, yes, fuck him too. Because he’s holding back. He’s shoving his ego down and playing smart too.

He’s going to help me.

So I play the cards I’ve been holding. “And Mr. Alexander found mold in the cabinet under the sink too.”

Confusion flashes across Ford’s eyes before he plays along. “Yes, I did.” Trusting me, he opens the kitchen cabinet, and there it is—splotchy black mold infesting the wood under the sink pipes.

Wonder what dumb blonde loosened the drain pipe two months ago?

Trick #Whatever:Was she so stupid she intentionally left a pile of rags under the leaking pipe to help the mold grow, too?

Dang, it’s a wonder I got two brain cells to rub together.

“Fix it,” Gentry barks at Ford like a little dog at a Doberman, compensating for his lack of size and being stupid about it.

Ford can kill Gentry. He’s got the training, the history, and the strength, but for me, he’s fighting the urge to do it.

“Yes, sir.” He almost smiles. He almost looks too happy to fuck Gentry over, too, as Gentry marches upstairs to change his golf polo.

While he’s in the house, Ford and I remain silent. Keeping up the innocent appearance, he unscrews outlet covers, snipping and capping wires, while I focus on calming my heart rate, not reading the mail I’m staring at as minutes pass before Gentry prances back into the kitchen.

I look up… and choke down my laughter.

Gentry exchanged his sweaty, ugly green-striped golf polo for a clean one in a pink azalea print.

It looks like Spring shit all over his bird chest, and put pink buttons on it.

Idiot.Just because something is expensive doesn’t mean it looks good.

Proudly, he beams at my stare, smoothing out the wrinkles with his toddler-sized hands. “The girls at the office got this for my birthday.”

I bat my lashes. “You have eight-year-olds working for you?”

It takes him a second to realize his sexist insult before he scowls, “Six o’clock.”

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