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Malcom was handsome in a different way than Casey. Where Casey was fun and easy to be around, Malcom was his complete opposite. Extremely stern, he seemed to always be watching even when his eyes weren’t on you. For the first month, if it hadn’t been for the fact that my paycheck helped my sister with bills and daycare in a way I knew no other job would, I would have quit. I always felt like he watched me as if he thought I was going to steal something.
And in a way, six months later, he still made me feel that way.
“That I’m sweet,” Casey replied without looking behind him. He simply winked at me.
“That you’re—” I recognized that growly tone. He was upset. But then again, it felt like Malcom Jennings was always upset about something.
“I better get to work," I whispered, and his hard eyes cut to me.
“I think that would be a good idea,” Malcom clipped. I flinched.
“Right,” I whispered. “Excuse me.” His harsh words might have stung, but they were good for me. I needed the reminder.
They weren't my friends or someone to hang out with and get to know. And I sure wasn’t someone they saw as a woman. I turned and moved to grab the trash bag I had taken out and walked toward the farthest end of the pool area to start picking up the mess that had been left behind.
2
MALCOM JENNINGS
“What the hell, Mal?” Casey hissed under his breath.
I didn’t need his scolding. I knew I’d messed up.
I had all but spit fire with my words to the most beautiful, genuine woman I had ever met. That we had ever met. God, I am an asshole. I knew it, and so did Casey. I didn’t need to look at one of my best friends and business partners to know he was glaring at me.
“Shut it.” My jaw clenched tightly.
“No. That was?—"
“I know,” I hissed and glanced at him. “I know.” My nose flared. “I fucked up.”
“No shit.” He looked over his shoulder toward the woman I was watching pick up the debris my stupid nephew and his friends had left behind. I forced myself to move and walk back inside the house. I had a feeling the moment we were within listening range, Casey was going to rip me a new one, and I fucking deserved it.
“We should have hired a company to clean that shit up back there.”
“I did,” I muttered the moment I stepped foot into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. “They are supposed to come out tomorrow.”
“Then why the hell are you letting her clean Coop’s mess?”
“What fucking secret do you have with her?” I clipped, and my ears burned red. I hated feeling jealous. Casey was like a brother to me, just like Jett.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She said I was sweet, and I told her not to tell or she’d mess up my rep, and she said it would be our secret. It was nothing,” he clipped.
“You were flirting,” I accused him. His blue eyes widened.
“So?” a voice behind us sounded. I shut my eyes.
“So, he shouldn’t flirt with her!” I turned to see Jett behind us wearing nothing than a pair of plaid sleeping pants. The asshole scratched his chest with his inked hands and shrugged.
“Maybe you’re more pissed about the fact you don’t know how to flirt than the fact Casey was.”
“I don’t need your psychobabble,” I interrupted. “Look, she works for us, and you guys need to remember that.”
"Mal,” Casey muttered.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? You want a sexual harassment suit tossed by her for that shit?” A very feminine gasp sounded, and ice filled my veins. Shit. I stilled.
“He didn’t mean that, Rosie,” Casey said gently, and the heaviness in my gut grew.
