Page 35 of Praised
The corner of his mouth angled up into a smirk and he shook his head before sliding one of the coffee cups full of brew toward me.
We stayed like that, with his hand on my thigh and the coffee in my hand, until he finished his call and pulled the bud out of his ear and tossed it on the counter.
“My ass, you say?” He asked, coming to stand between my legs.
“I wouldn’t say no to the offer if it was on the table.”
“It’s notnoton the table, but let me at least get you fed first, get your strength back.”
I laughed, jerking my leg away to shake him off. “Do you even have food in here?”
He looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“It doesn’t look like you actually live here,” I said, gazing past him and into the spacious but sterile living room.
His brows knit together, further evidence of his confusion. “Why do you say that?”
“No pictures,” I said. “No art. No color.”
“The furniture is art,” he protested.
I scoffed at him and took a drink of the coffee he’d made for me. It tasted expensive, which was not surprising in the least. It tasted better than the shit at the restaurant and the instant packets I had at home, I knew that much.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“The plant?” He asked weakly, straightening up like I’d offended him.
“What plant?”
“The monstera out front.”
I didn’t even remember seeing a plant, but I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. He was missing the point entirely, which had more to do with his income level than anything else. I didn’t want to hold it against him, but after years of working in the service industry, I’d learned that people in the higher tax brackets had a much different way of walking through the world than the rest of us.
“The monstera,” I repeated. “Okay.”
“Did you want to argue about my lack of art all day or do you have other plans?”
“This is hardly an argument.”
The biting comment made me think about Cody and the day before when he’d shown up at my house, and it made me think of catching him in bed with his roommate. Now that had been an argument.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, turning and leaning against the counter beside me. I brushed my leg against him, hoping he understood I wasn’t upset.
“Do you work today?” he asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“Ah, work,” I said, remembering how I’d ended up at his house in the first place. “Not today, no, but are we going to talk about your grade A stalking skills?”
He laughed at that, rolling his eyes. “It’s hardly stalking. I’m just resourceful. Speaking of…”
Flynn shoved a small black box toward me, and I quickly realized it was a brand new cell phone. I had no idea how he’d managed to get me a new one in less than twelve hours, but I gathered that he was the kind of man who could get pretty much whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
Me included.
“I told you that you didn’t have to do this,” I reminded him. “But thank you.”
“I know I didn’t have to.” He shrugged and grinned at me, looking young and playful and a whole different kind of handsome. “But I’m resourceful, remember?”
“Resourceful because of the zeroes in your bank account,” I countered. “Buying a phone is one thing, tracking down a one-night stand is another.”
