Page 30 of The Big Puck
“You were out late,” she says. “Where were you?” Her tone is no more than curious, but her words raise the hairs on my arms anyway, sounding proprietary to my overly sensitive ears.
“You realize it’s none of your business, right?”
She shrugs, and her sunny face remains undaunted. “So? Call me curious.”
“More like a disgruntled housewife,” I murmur, looking away, and I put some distance between us because, unlike her, I am daunted.
She laughs, and when I look up, her eyes swim with mirth.
“What?”
“Did you forget I have supersonic hearing?” she reminds me.
This is where I fight down embarrassment and rely on my disgruntled-at-the-world look to stare her down. “I’m not used to this situation.” I glance around the kitchen as if it’s out of place, but I’m the only one out of place here. “It’s fucking strange living with a baby and…you.” I toss accusation at her as if I weren’t the one who insisted she needed to live here.
“True. It’s a lot to get used to, but I’m game. In fact, I think it’s fun. I like playing house. There. I said it. Can’t pussyfoot around the fact because that’s exactly how it is. And I’m one for confronting situations head on.”
My heart thuds unnecessarily hard, like she’s struck some kind of nerve, uncovering the exact raw source of my discomfort. The reason my dick is currently on edge. Fuck.
“I’m not. I don’t.” I leave it at that. The pile of shit named emotions ought to stay buried wherever they were because the last thing I need to do is start unpacking that fucking bundle now.
“What are you afraid of?”
Ignoring her question, I deepen my scowl until I imagine the furrow in my forehead resembles the Mariana trench, and it doesn’t take much effort. “You feed Krissy. It’s late, and I need to leave early. I’m going to bed.” I hand over Krissy and head upstairs with unexpected energy, given that I was dead tired fifteen minutes ago. But before I reach the quiet sanctity of my bedroom, I hear her laugh and the words she shouts after me.
“See you in the morning, Boss-man.”
Not if I can fucking help it.
* * *
Getting up before the crack of dawn isn’t hard since I hardly slept. I sneak downstairs, get a cup of coffee, and I’m about to leave, but I glance up the back stairs. It doesn’t feel right to leave without seeing Krissy.
It’s a helluva thing to feel a need to avoid Lainey since that almost always means avoiding Krissy, too. And that can’t be. I can’t do that.
I need to grow a pair and deal with Lainey, make it crystal clear that this boss man doesn’t need or want to be her friend, and that we don’t need to be anything more than civil to each other for this to work. There’s no need to get to know each other or deepen our relationship or be close or pals or any of those other notions she may have in her head—one of which had fucking better not be romantic. Not in any way shape or form.
Her brother would kill me, and I wouldn’t blame him. Not that he’s the reason why getting involved with Lainey is all wrong. There are too many reasons to count. Like how young she is, and how not my type she is, and most of all, how unready I am for any kind of relationship with a woman right now. Not even with my soon-to-be former girlfriend.
That’s right. No sense pretending otherwise and no sense leading Shonda on about it.
I jog up the back stairs, determined to kiss Krissy goodbye, hopefully without waking her. Because even if she’s not aware of my affection, that’s a bond worth building, and I need to work on it. That’s the only relationship I need to work on.
* * *
Escaping the house without seeing Lainey is surprisingly easy. She must have been tired after being up late last night. A surge of guilt hits me. As I sit behind my desk, my phone pings.
It’s a text from Lainey, and I feel just enough guilt to read it now instead of putting it off like I usually do.
Lainey: I saw you in the room with Krissy this a.m. I let you leave in peace. Have a gr8 day
She got my message that I want to be left alone. Good. That’s good.
So why do I feel like a shithead?
Chapter 12
LAINEY
