I force a smile. “Duporth.”
A bushy blond eyebrow flicks up. “Benson.”
Objectively, I guess you could say Ridge Duporth is attractive, with meticulously styled platinum-blond hair and steely ice-blue eyes. Personally, that whole Nordic ice king in a designer suit vibe has never done anything for me. Give me dirty clothes, a waft of manly sweat, and messed-up black hair any day of the week.
I half expect Western music to start playing through the jukebox with the way we’re staring off against each other. I’ve got a mile-long list of grievances against the guy, but the most recent one is the one that really grinds my gears—his connection to Jackson.
Why did Jackson sock it to him?
Yetanotherthing I know nothing about.
I point to the exit. “I should?—”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I need a favor.”
I flash him a look that screamsWTF?“Think the peroxide has seeped into your brain, Duporth.”
“This is my natural color, asshole.”
“I don’t give two shits about your hair color, and I’m not interested in doing anything for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”I push past him, careful to avoid making any physical contact so thatwedon’t end up in a fistfight.
I’m halfway out the door when I hear, “It’s about Jackson.”
I come to a standstill but don’t turn around. “What about him?”
“He works for you, doesn’t he?”
My skin crawls, hating every single thing about this interaction. “He does.”
“Well, then…can you get him to call me?”
Why the fuck does Duporth want Jackson to call him?
I spin on my heel, my jaw clenched. “Do I look like your personal secretary?”
Duporth drops his gaze to my chest and smirks. “No. Your tits aren’t as nice.”
Of course he’s a sexist pig, to boot.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“But you’re his boss.”
“So?”
“You can make him do it.”
“If that’s really what you think, then I feel sorry for your staff.” I start inching toward the exit again. “If you want to speak to Jackson, call him yourself.”
“He’s not answering my texts. I think he’s blocked my number.”
I let out a derisive laugh. “Would’ve thought you’d be used to people doing that by now.”
Ridge bristles. He’s a man all too accustomed to getting his way. Reminds me a lot of my father in that regard.
