He leaned back in the driver's seat. "So what if I am?"
How nice to have it confirmed.
I sighed. "Look, if that's what you want, fine. But there's no reason to make anyone else feel bad in the process."
"The only one who feels bad," he said, "is you. So get over it.
I bristled. "Get over it?"
"You've got anewjob, remember?"
As if I could forget."But—"
"And right now," he continued, "your job is to get your ass out of the car and into the restaurant."
God, what a jerk.
But already, he was pushing open the driver's side door.
As he left the vehicle, I sat stubbornly in the passenger's seat with my arms crossed and my gaze straight ahead. Thiswasn'ta simple lunch. I just knew it.
I didn't budge, even when he circled around the front of the car and strode to the passenger's side door. He opened it up and gave me a sarcastic smile. "Old fashioned," he said. "Good call."
I glowered up at him. "What?"
"Letting me get the door," he said. "Shows good breeding."
What a joke."Breeding? Like dogs? I bet you mean afemaledog, don't you?"
"Why's that?"
"You know…" I lowered my voice. "… as in the word that rhymes with 'witch.'"
His mouth tightened. "If I wanted to call you names, I'd have done that already."
Probably, this was true. From what I'd seen, Flynn wasn't the name-calling type. Even all those years ago, I'd expected him to call me every name in the book. But he hadn't.
Instead, he'd pummeled me with something a whole lot worse – simmering rage and the unspoken promise of revenge.
Was this it?
I didn't know, and I was tired of overthinking it. Besides, who was I kidding? He was right. Ididwork for him, which meant there wasn't much I could do except let him guide me into the restaurant and hope for the best.
Maybe it wouldn't betoobad, right?
Wrong.
