“I’m pretty sure you don’t have a fucking clue what you mean. If you’ll just give me my shirt, I’ll get the hell out of your way. I got a long drive back to BFE.”
She looks down at the T-shirt and back up at me. “Maybe—”
Honest to Christ, I don’t want to hear any more. My pride has already taken enough of a beating. Fuck the shirt.
“Never mind. Keep it.”
Her face falls. “I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to—”
“Save it. I’m done here.”
But she’s already stripping it over her head and tossing it at me.
“Just take it.”
Her voice shakes on the last word as I force myself to look away from her naked body. A dumb redneck like me should probably be happy I got to have her for one night. But the funny thing is, I wanted more, and now it just pisses me off.
“Have a nice life, Banner. Good luck with whatever the fuck you’re doing.”
With my shirt clutched in my hand, I stride to the door and don’t look back.
Chapter 16
Banner
Karma is such a bitch.
This week is supposed to be an amazing one. I’m supposed to be approving the prototypes as they finish the testing phase, and gearing up to schedule my first production run.
But one of the models had a minor malfunction, so after some quick fixes, the factory was supposed to send a replacement. Instead, they sent two dozen. To my office. The boxes were stacked up all around my cube, and when my asshole cube neighbor decided to open one, chaos ensued.
Now I’m sitting at the curb on top of a stack of boxes, waiting for a car and driver I’m not going to be able to afford for much longer since I no longer have a job because of some stupid no-moonlighting policy.
If you ask me, it’s a ridiculous policy. Basically, I’m not allowed to have any other kind of employment or business interest that’s not approved in advance, in writing, by the company. Since I didn’t read the employee handbook cover to cover, I wasn’t aware. But I’d signed a statement saying I’d read it and agreed to everything inside.
My explanations and excuses didn’t sway HR or my boss. In fact, they probably helped in the decision to terminate my employment immediately.
Because it bears repeating, I’ll say it again. Karma is a bitch.
It’s been exactly four days since Logan Brantley walked out of my apartment and left me feeling like shit on his shoe. I know it’s my fault, and the guilt has been eating at me.
Maybe if I hadn’t botched that so completely, I wouldn’t have spent this entire week picturing every woman in that Podunk town coming into his garage to get someworkdone on theirchassis.
It’s probably what distracted me into using the autofill address option and picking my office as the ship-to location for the factory.
As rain pelts down on me, I try to find a bright side. I have a lot more time to devote to the work I actually want to do instead of the job that was grinding away at me.
I’ve dumped almost all my cash into my business, but I have enough left in the bank to float me for a short time while I figure out my finances and how I’m going to pay for my life until the first production run is out in the market. My trust fund only allows me to take out a certain amount each year, and I hit that limit for my start-up costs two months ago.
As my car pulls up, I feel a certain sense of relief. Maybe getting fired will be the best thing that ever happened to me. Or I’m going to get evicted, end up living in a cardboard box and eating out of Dumpsters.No. Definitely not.
I’m arranging for the doorman to bring the boxes inside when Frau Frances shuffles into the lobby with Jordana twirling on her leash, and Irene, another of her caretakers, by her side.
Of course, the first thing she spots is me with my file box of crap I cleaned out of my desk.
“Don’t tell me you got fired.”
Her voice carries through the entire lobby, and several heads swivel in my direction as Jude, the daytime doorman, pushes a hand truck full of the other boxes toward the service elevator to deliver to my apartment. Why didn’t I give him this one too?