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“Why?”
“You give her too much power over you.”
A sarcastic smile found my lips. “Power is never given, you fool. It is taken. And anyway, I’m more pissed off than enamored.” I shrugged. “Keep her.”
“What about you?” He gave me a skeptical look.
“I’ll survive.” I had once, hadn’t I?
A knock on the door was followed by Taylor sticking his head inside. “Chef?”
“What?”
“Are you getting rid of our new server?”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. Was there anyone in this zip code who didn’t want to get into Cal’s pants?
“No. Why?”
“Because the entire kitchen loves her. I think she is singing an Adele song to one of the patrons.” Taylor beamed. “Using a baguette as a microphone.”
ROW
The doors to the Silverado slammed behind us. Cal immediately reached to turn on the radio. I covered the volume valve with my palm before she could touch it. “We need to talk.”
“Why?” she moaned. “We get along so much better when we don’t.”
“We get along best on different continents,” I grumbled, ready to be done with the conversation before we’d begun.
She cocked her head, turning her entire body to look at me, the seat belt clasped inside her little hand. She breathed out a tired sigh, letting her head fall backward. “Please don’t fire me. I just earned thirteen hundred bucks in tips and I think I might actually be able to afford renting some recording equipment when I get back to New York. I could finally start my business. I’ve been dreaming of starting a podcast since I wa—”
“Slow your roll, Little Miss Crapshine. One, I’m not gonna fire you. Two, I don’t care what you do with the money you earned. Waste it, burn it, donate it to Satanists in need. If we’re gonna work together, we need to set up some ground rules, though.”
“Oh.” She sat back, nibbling on the skin around her nail. “Sure.”
The engine roared to life, the vehicle purring as I turned to face her. She was a sexy trainwreck decanted into a cheap uniform. Her hair was tangled in disarray. Pink tips framed her face. Her cheeks matched them in color, and she looked so thoroughly fucked all I could think about was laying her down on my truck bed and fucking every single hole in her body until it was the shape of my cock.
Watching her waiting for my words made my dick hard. Come to think about it, watching her breathe made my dick hard. She could probably pick her nose and smear it all over my windshield and my dick would still go ramrod straight, awarding her with a standing ovation.
My issue was, there was no one else like Calla Litvin. I’d met plenty of sexy women over the years. Smart ones. Successful ones. Drop-dead gorgeous ones. But their qualities always carried that sameness that bored me. Cal was different. I never knew what was going to come out of her smart mouth. She approached everything she did with the enthusiasm and curiosity of a child…and the body of a very grown-up woman. It was time to douse her eagerness with a truth bomb.
“Not sure what you’re used to doing down in Manhattan, but in Descartes, you will not be playing charades, dancing to infamous nineties songs, or singing Adele ballads to customers. You’ve made a fool out of yourself under my roof, and I won’t tolerate it.”
She blinked rapidly, digesting the words that seemed harsh even to my own ears. There were better ways to drive the point home. I could’ve had Rhyland put in a word. Unlike me, he had the tendency not to offend entire nations every time he opened his mouth.
“I understand,” she said finally.
“You do?” My gaze swept skeptically over her face.
“Mm-hmm.” She forced a smile on. I hit the accelerator, scowling at the road ahead. Her eyes clung to my face like they were the glue to keep it from falling.
“Problem?” I growled.
“Several, actually.” She nodded. “Where shall I start?”
“How about telling me why I should care?”
“Because you have a conscience, and because, no matter what you say, you’re a good-hearted person who historically stands up for what’s right. When people’s feelings are involved, there’s—”
