She nodded and hugged the device to her chest. After she exited the store, I went back to stocking paper on the display shelf. Jules strode over a few minutes later, more reams of paper tucked under her arm.
She arranged the paper and said, “Good to know you can be nice to someone.”
“Don’t tell anyone—it might ruin my image.”
“Don’t worry. You’re still an asshole in my book.”
“Nice to know my reputation stands.”
What kind of dipshit response was that? Talking to this girl turned me into an idiot. I knew it’d be smart to stay away from her, but something about Peach drove me a little crazy.
Maybe it was the stiletto heels. Could also be the fact she could shell out sarcastic comments without batting those heavily lined eyes. Or her full lips that I’d kill to know if they tasted as good as they looked. She seemed like someone who would make me work for it. Someone who would be the perfect hookup for the summer, no commitment needed. I’d give it a week, two tops, before I had this girl in my bed.
Chapter Five
Jules
I scrambled back into Office Jax and beelined it for the break room where I’d left my purse. I’d been in such a hurry to leave after my shift with that crap bag Ryan. Seriously, could anyone be a bigger jerk? I highly doubted it. Sure, he was nice to old grannies, but the general population got Eeyore’s evil twin.
Right before I pushed through the door of the break room, I heard Ryan’s voice. “Are those the red panties? The ones with the lace on the edges?”
Gross. Was he having phone sex? At work? This dude was ballsy. I slumped against the wall, listening in like a total perv. Something about his low voice talking about naughty bits sent a jolt of heat straight to the space between my legs, which was totally unfortunate, because this guy was a Grade A prick—something my body didn’t give two figs about.
“You know what you can do with those panties?”
Yes, go on. Please tell me what to do with those panties. I mentally side-eyed myself. This was sick. Why was I listening? And yet, here I was, leaning in toward the door, waiting to hear what he’d say next. I didn’t know what this said about me but, at this point, I didn’t really care.
“You can go shove them up Dwayne’s ass.”
Something slammed against a solid surface, most likely his phone.
Yikes. I didn’t know what this Dwayne dude did, but panties up the butt didn’t sound like BFF status. This guy had a lot of inner Hulk rage going on, something my therapist, Dr. Ahrendt, told me I should stay away from. Smart woman. I almost turned around and walked out, but realized I still had to get my purse, which happened to be in my locker in the break room. Right by Ryan. Great.
I shook my head. There was no need to be freaked out. He didn’t know that I’d heard part of his conversation. How his smooth voice rolled over the word panties and ignited a liquid heat in my core. Ugh, I was way worse off than I thought if I was letting this guy get under my skin. Just get in there, get your purse, and leave. No big deal. I took a deep breath and pushed through the door.
Ryan had his head down on the table when I entered. He looked so vulnerable and pained just sitting there, I almost felt sorry for him. Obviously, whoever he was talking to on the phone had done a number on him. I cleared my throat, and he sat up quickly, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Taking another break, princess?”
I sucked in my cheeks and pushed back my need to tell him to eff off. “Go ahead, call me that one more time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Your name was Gem Stones, right?”
Should I even give him the satisfaction of saying my name again, even though he already knew it? Nope. “You are so mature. I bet red-panty girl ate that shit right up.”
Before he could answer, I grabbed my purse from my locker and booked it out of the break room. For someone so hot, he was such a jerk. Wait till Payton heard about this.
I was still fuming when I got home, so I decided to change the oil in my car. And detail the interior. By the time I’d finished, my dash came pretty close to showing my reflection, and my annoyance had moved from wanting to cut someone to insanely peeved.
Storming into the apartment, I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, grumbling under my breath.
“Should I even ask how your day went?” Payton plucked a chocolate-covered coffee bean from a plastic bag on the living room table and plopped it in her mouth.
I dried my hands, slammed the towel on the kitchen counter with an ungratifying thud, and stomped into the living room. “Don’t even get me started. This guy—he’s a dick. He called me a princess! Gem Stones! Then he proceeded to tell me I wasn’t attractive enough to be a stripper.”
Payton’s brows furrowed. “He what?” She shook her head and said, “Prick.”
“I know, right? He was lucky I didn’t stick my stiletto heel up his ass.”
She giggled and tossed me the bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans.