Page 100 of Too Good to Be True

He came closer to where she stood. “I’ve never laid a hand on a woman before, but I wanted to smack her.”

She didn’t have to ask whom he was referring to. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I hated how she treated you.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here.”

“I’m so mad right now I don’t care who hears me.”

“Nick. Please…”

“She had no right to barge in and disrupt the class like that.”

“So, do you believe me now—that she’s trying to sabotage us?”

He slowly nodded.

“We just have to ignore her.”

“And let her get away with it? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t want to lose my job over this.”

“Over this or over me?”

His words weighed heavy on her heart. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

Then came a knock on the door. She backed away right before the door opened, and Eric poked his head in. He looked at Nick and her and said, “Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah. I just had a few follow-up questions,” Nick said smoothly.

“Well, hurry it up. We have work to do.” Eric turned away, but he left the door ajar, bringing their private moment to an end.

“We’ll talk later,” Nick promised.

After he left, she took a few minutes to compose herself. She went around the table, pushed in the chairs, and collected the remaining pens. Her back was to the door when she heard it close with an ominous click.

Slowly she turned around and came face to face with her new nemesis.

“What is it?” Stacy hissed, way past the point of politeness.

Britney casually leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her bountiful chest. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“This act you put on. You’re not fooling anybody.”

“What act?”

“It’s kind of pathetic, really. How old are you, forty?”

Stacy’s hands clenched at her sides. If anybody here besides her friends knew her age, it was Britney. She worked in human resources and had access to everyone’s personal data. Stacy hadn’t given it much thought before, but now she hated that Britney held that privilege.

“Not that it matters, but I’m thirty-five,” she said, keeping her voice even.

“Thirty-five, forty, whatever. You’re too old for him.”

Jealousy doesn’t become you.