Page 26 of Right Man, Right Time
“Of course, we only ever say great things about you.” I smile back.
“Oh, is that a picture of your boyfriend?” She points at the picture of Silas.
“Yes, it is. Since we’re now out in public, I figured it would be okay to bring in a picture to remind me of what a fine piece of ass I get to grab every night.”
Ross coughs and hides his grin. Candace is not amused.
“Were you hiding your relationship before?” she asks.
I nod. “Yup. Since he plays professional hockey, we figured we’d keep it quiet until we were ready to announce.”
“I see.” She folds her arms and stares at the picture. “Seems a little crude for the workplace, don’t you think?” Ross called it. Candace, the pearl clutcher, ruining everyone’s life.
I glance at the picture and then back at her. “I don’t think so. It just reminds me how I get to lick those abs every chance I get.”
Ross chokes out a laugh while Candace’s eyes narrow. “That’s inappropriate, Ollie.”
“Oh, did I offend you?” I ask. “Is it because Yonny doesn’t have abs to lick?”
“He’s actually put on some muscle.” Oh please, the man has ramen noodle arms, and we all know it. “Now that he’s shed an old relationship, he can focus on himself and not play second fiddle to the ego he used to date.”
Oh.
My.
Fuck.
No, she did not.
Where the hell does she get the nerve?
I lean back in my chair, nostrils flared. “I know you’re talking about me, Candace.”
“Good, because I was.” She folds her arms tighter and juts out her hip. What does she plan on doing with that stance? I could take her down with one swipe to the leg. One knife-hand to the throat. One sharpened pencil straight to the tit.
My hand itches for an attack, something she’s not expecting. Teach her a freaking lesson on who to mess with.
“Ehh, you know, maybe we should all get to work,” Ross says, clearly aware of the building tension. But guess who doesn’t want any part in calming down? The Post-it Note Prostitute.
She leans forward, coffee ripe on her breath, and says, “I don’t buy it for one second that you’re dating Silas Taters. You either know him or struck up some sort of deal.”
What sort of wizardry does this woman possess? Has she bugged my dorm room? Tapped into my text messages? Become a mind reader and can hear and see my every freaking thought? In all seriousness, I fear for Yonny because this woman has the potential to take down empires.
But of course, being the prideful woman that I am, I can’t possibly show her that she’s right. I will take this secret to my grave.
To the freaking grave! *pounds finger into table* There is no way in hell Candace Roundhouse will ever know that I struck a deal with Silas Taters. She will only think that he is the love of my freaking life.
“Wow, what a fantasy you’re living in,” I say. “Does it make you feel better, trying to come up with some sort of storyline like that?”
“I’m not coming up with a storyline. You know how I know you’re lying?” she says, taking a step closer, her burgundy wool skirt scraping across my knee. Hideous, Candace, just hideous. “Because you were panicking the moment you saw that I assigned you hockey. If you were really dating Silas Taters, there wouldn’t have been an ounce of panic in your eyes.”
If only she weren’t so clever—cunning—it would make fighting with her so much easier.
“There was no panic. There was shock because I assumed I would be assigned something in lifestyle, not sports. Also, the last thing I want to do is bother my boyfriend with hockey questions. He has better things to do like . . . win championships.”
“Your boyfriend is a hockey player?” a deep, recognizable voice says.
Oh no . . .
