Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Her apology is weak, but if I'm judging it right, it's because she feels sorry for reading me wrong.
"I'm not skeezy," I say, really needing her to hear me. "I wouldn't use my position of power to abuse anyone like that."
When her eyes meet mine, I can see that she believes me.
"Don't forget to clock in," I tell her before walking away. As much as I talk a good game, if the woman even hinted at wanting to kiss me ever again, I'd be on her so fast it would take her breath away and not in the I can't believe you had the audacity way it did that first time.
What I want to do with her—to her—has nothing to do with me being her boss. It's primal and some days really hard to ignore, but if my parents taught me anything as a young man growing up, it's to respect the boundaries others have put in place.
She avoids looking at me for more than an hour, despite her coming to the bar for drink orders numerous times.
It feels like another rejection, but I know I have to get that shit under control. The woman is just working her shift, leading her damn life, and despite me claiming not to let my ego get in the way, thinking that her mood has anything to do with me proves the opposite.
I claim that I'd never kiss her again, but the finger jab to my chest was all too reminiscent of her anger when she was going apeshit in my office earlier this week. I had the same urge tonight as I did then, and it was even harder to fight than it was the first time. I know that has everything to do with knowing what it felt like to have her pulled against my chest and her lips on mine.
I consider making an appointment with Dr. Kaydence Miller, the local psychiatrist, because no single person should be taking up so much of my thoughts, but I'd never want them to go away, so the effort would be pointless.
I distract myself with my work rather than letting myself focus on every customer she approaches and trying to determine what they're thinking. I know what the men are thinking when they dip their eyes from her face to her body as she approaches them with a smile. I know they’re either thinking they have a shot and they flirt harder or they know they don’t have a chance and are imagining themselves hooking up with her anyway. I know some of the women smile at her, but they notice the attention she gets. Some are bitter about it, like she has any control over what others think about her, including themselves. Some are envious. Some wish ill of her and have opinions they’d be chastised for in church tomorrow if they said them out loud.
We both stay busy, and I can tell she’s avoiding looking at me as much as I’m trying to avoid looking at her.
The only problem is I find it nearly impossible, whereas she seems not to struggle at all.
Chapter 14
Claire
Do you know the worst part about eating crow? It's having no ability to walk away from the person who fed it to you so you can lick the wounds it created in your ego.
I made an absolute fool out of myself when I showed up for my shift. I jumped to conclusions. Although I would've argued what his reaction might be, Walker never once looked smug when he was explaining why he hadn't mentioned the relocation of my shift next Saturday.
I can't count the number of times I've acted or gotten upset before thinking my words through or even staying calm long enough to ask questions.
It's always asking forgiveness after losing my shit rather than feeling a situation out before going ballistic.
As quick as I am to argue and fight, I'm just as quick to fight against an apology. I think that's the technical definition of an asshole.
"What's wrong?"
"Hmm?" I ask the guy who just spoke to me.
"You look like you smelled something foul," he explains, lifting his arm and sniffing in a comical way. "It's not me, is it?"
"Just getting lost in my head," I explain. "So sorry."
"Ouch." His lips form an overexaggerated pout. "I guess that means I'm not handsome enough to keep you distracted."
I don't bother fighting the smile that tugs up the corners of my mouth.
"I promise to make it up to you if you come home with me after your shift."
"Dorm rooms really aren't my thing," I tell him in a polite manner. The guy needs to know he doesn't have a chance, but at the same time, I'm working for tips here.
He continues to smile at me even when his friends shove at him and make fun of him for getting shot down. It tells me he's a good sport.