“I need to talk to my boss,” I said, marching toward the building.
Mondays were a quiet day for us. We only had open visiting hours the second half of the day, and until Vanessa came in for her shift, it was just me and Muriel.
“I thought this was your building.”
With my hand on the door handle, I froze in place and sent him a scathing look over my shoulder. “Buddy, in all the ways that matter, I promise you it is. That’s why I take particular offense at all the shit you ruined.”
His cheeks flushed the slightest bit pink, but his eye contact never wavered.
“See, now, this would be a perfect time to apologize,” I said, slowly and methodically, like I was speaking to a child. Or someone who’dlikely sustained multiple concussions and had poor people skills. “In case you were wondering how to proceed.”
“Would you believe me if I did?”
That stopped me short, and that nervous flutter erupted in my stomach again. I thought about lying, just to be polite. I wasalwayspolite. In fact, I’d never been less polite in my entire life than I had been to this guy.
“No.”
“See? Being honest is fun, isn’t it? I don’t apologize often, Remi Sinclair, and if I do, I’m gonna make it count.”
My hand balled up in a fist as I wondered if I could swing hard enough to break his nose.
“For instance, if I wanted to apologize to you, I could start with: I’m sorry I played with your absolutely glorious tits in public.”
A shocked gust of air burst from my mouth.
“You wouldn’t believe that either, though, would you? Or I’m sorry for sticking my hand between your legs, getting just enough of a taste that I’ve thought about you for fucking days. You want me to apologize for that, Red?”
“That entire night was a mistake I narrowly avoided making.” Angry tears swelled in the back of my throat. “Thank God I didn’t go home with you.”
His features were practically carved in stone. “Like you said, it doesn’t take me long to find someone else, if that’s what I want. You just happened to fall right in my lap,” he said, brow furrowing like he couldn’t believe his luck. “You made it so easy. Maybe youarethe good girl who never gets out—but when you do, Red, you’re a lot of fucking fun.”
The crack of my hand across his cheek rang through the parking lot. My palm stung as I cradled it against my chest, mind reeling. I’d slapped him. I’dslappedhim.
Archer gaped, gently laying his fingers over the reddened mark on his face. “You hit me,” he said, tone incredulous.
Anger like this was brutal. The blood rushing through my veins felt undeniably hot, like I’d emit steam if someone doused me in cold water. I clenched my teeth so tight that my molars creaked. Something indefinable flashed through his eyes. I wanted to believe it was regret, but I’d never be so stupid as to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Even though my legs were quaking and my stomach trembled, I stepped right into his space. “If you ever speak to me that way again, I will castrate you with a smile on my face.”
His blue eyes narrowed, his mouth firming into an unforgiving line.
“Is that clear?” I asked slowly. “Or do you need me to use smaller words? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of head injuries.”
Archer studied my face with a tilt of his head, like he was weighing the strength of my threat.
“Crystal clear,” he said after a moment.
My chest was heaving, adrenaline screaming through my system after that slap.
I needed a nap. And a pound of chocolate. And a safe place to go cry for an hour.
If anyone wondered why my ideal-partner list looked the way it did, I’d like to enter Archer Evans into consideration—the primary exhibit as to why I wanted safe and quiet and normal and average.
These egotistical pricks who thought the world revolved around their cocks were the last thing I wanted in my life, and he’d just reminded me exactly why a ruggedly handsome face and honed muscles were severely overrated.
“Stay here,” I commanded.
I turned and disappeared into the building, praying to any deity who would listen that he would keep his ass outside while I had a PMS-y meltdown to Muriel.