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Mr. Smarty Pants.
If she didn’t look like she was ready to have a breakdown I would’ve laughed.
“If nothing’s wrong then why do you look…” I trailed off not knowing what she looked like.
Scared.
Nervous.
“Are you worried about meeting with the team?” I finished.
That got me the universal woman stare that clearly stated I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
Contradictorily, she said, “No.”
I didn’t believe her but I knew better than to call her out.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I told you, nothing. But if you don’t like that answer we can try this one…none of your business.”
“Thought I explained that shit last night.”
“What shit?”
It took a lot to remember the woman standing in front of me had never had anyone in her life give a shit about her. So much so it was a struggle to lock down my temper. I was applying for sainthood if I managed to check my anger. If any other woman thought she could take me on this ride and throw attitude like Nebraska did, I’d jump the fuck off and she’d see the back of me.
Overly argumentative women were a total turn off. Bullshit games and drama were not my thing. At least they never had been, until Nebraska’s prickly ass walked into her father’s study and I got an eyeful. Now it seemed I had a taste for drama and attitude.
“I’m not going to let you retreat.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit.”
Her right eye twitched. Now we were getting somewhere.
“God, you’re such a—”
“Careful, baby. I didn’t check but I’d venture to say you still got my handprint on your ass.”
“Careful, honey. That might work while you have my head muddled and I’m naked but I promise—you try that shit while I’m pissed and fully dressed, you’ll learn the true definition of getting your balls busted.”
I hadn’t been entirely correct in my assessment. Not only did I now have a taste for drama and attitude, I totally got off on the way Nebraska delivered it.
“Head muddled?” I asked through a smile.
“I think I want to shoot you now.”
Fuck yeah, totally got off on her throwing attitude.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m worried about Charlie,” she shouted.
