“What? Me?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles. She looks different . . . unnatural, really. The little minion who’s following in her wake has the same orange shade to her skin . . . they should stop bathing in food coloring, perhaps.
“Cut the shit. Don’t mess with her; she’s trying to adjust to a new city, and you two aren’t going to ruin it for her by being a assholes to her for no reason.”
“I haven’t even done anything! I was joking anyway.” Flashes of her sucking my dick in a bathroom stall flash through my mind, and I swallow the uneasy feeling that comes with the unwelcome memory.
“Don’t do it anymore,” I warn her. “I’m not fucking around. Don’t even speak to her.”
“Jesus, you’re still as cheery as ever, I see. I won’t mess with her anymore. I wouldn’t want you telling Mr. Vance on me and getting me fired like you did Sam—”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“Yes, it was!” she whispers dramatically, “As soon as her man found out what you two were doing . . . what you did . . . she was mysteriously let go the very same week.” Tabitha was easy, so damn easy, and so was Samantha. The moment that I found out who Samantha’s boyfriend was, she began to appeal to me. But once I got between her legs, I wanted nothing to do with her. That little game of mine caused me a lot of shit and drama that I’d rather not be reminded of, and I sure as hell don’t want Tessa mixed up in this catty shit.
“You don’t know half of what really happened, so keep your mouth shut. Leave Tessa alone, and your job will stay yours.” Truthfully, I may have had a little something to do with Vance letting Samantha go, but her working there was causing me too many problems. She was only a freshman in college, working part-time, as a copy girl.
“Speak of the spoiled little devil,” the short minion remarks and nods her head toward the door of the small break room.
Tessa is smiling and laughing as she enters. And right behind her, dressed in one of his little suits and ties, is fucking Trevor, smiling and laughing along with her.
The little twat spots me first and touches Tessa’s arm to draw her attention to me. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to snap him in two. When she sees me from across the room, her face lights up, her smile widens, and she rushes over. Only when she reaches me does she notice Tabitha standing next to me.
“Hey,” she says, unsure now, nervous.
“Bye, Tabitha.” I wave the snooty woman off. She whispers something to her friend, and the two of them leave the room.
“Bye, Trevor,” I say quietly enough that only Tessa hears.
“Stop it!” She swats my arm in the pestering way that she always does.
“Hello, Hardin,” Trevor greets me, ever so politely. His arm twitches at his side, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to offer his hand for a shake. I hope for his sake that he doesn’t. I won’t accept it.
“Hi,” I say curtly.
“What are you doing here?” Tessa asks. She looks out into the hallway for the two women that just left. I know what she’s really asking: How do you know them, and what did they say?
“Tabitha won’t be a problem anymore.”
She gapes, her eyes wide. “What did you do?”
I shrug. “Nothing, I just told her what you should have—to fuck off.”
Tessa smiles at fucking Trevor, and he sits down at one of the tables, trying not to look at the two of us. I find his discomfort pretty damn amusing.
“Did you have lunch already?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.” I give the eavesdropper a fuck-you glare and lead Tessa out of the room and down the hallway.
“The place next door has really good tacos,” she says.
It turns out she’s wrong. The tacos are shit, but she devours her plate and most of mine. Afterward, she flushes and blames her appetite on her hormones; when she threatens to “shove a tampon down my throat” if I make one more joke about her period, I just laugh.
“I still want to go back tomorrow to see everyone and get my stuff,” she says, washing down the spicy salsa she just finished with some water.
“Don’t you think going to England next weekend is enough traveling?” I say, trying to derail her plans.
“No. I want to see Landon. I miss him so much.”
An unwarranted pang of jealousy hits me, but I brush it off. He is her only friend, save annoying-ass Kimberly.
“He’ll still be there when we get back from England . . .”
“Hardin, please.” She looks up at me, not asking for permission like she sometimes does. This time she’s asking for my cooperation, and I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she’s going back to see Landon whether I want her to or not.
“Fine. Fuck,” I groan.
This can’t possibly go well. I look across the table at her, and she’s smiling proudly, I don’t know if she’s proud of herself for winning this argument or proud of me for giving in, but she looks so beautiful. So relaxed.
“I like that you came here today.” She takes my hand as we walk down the busy street. Why are there so many people in Seattle?
“You do?” I figured as much, but I had a little anxiety that she might be angry at me for showing up unannounced, not that I would have given a shit, but still.
“Yes.” She blinks up at me, stopping in the middle of a swarm of rushing bodies. “I almost . . .” She trails off without finishing.