Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

6. Hazel

CHAPTER 6

Hazel

Oh. My. God.

My back slams into the seat, and it feels like my chest is going to push right through the back of me. The vibrations from the engine start in my feet and it sends a shock wave up through my torso. I love muscle cars. I should not be enjoying this, with this man behind the wheel.

He looks like a little boy, grinning, as he shifts through the gears every time the engine gets so loud it sounds like it might explode. Something tells me that smile he’s wearing right now has nothing to do with me, either. It feels like he probably wears it every time he drives this car around town.

Oh, and I’m sure he drives it however he wants, too, because laws don’t apply to people like him.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t believe I’m sitting in this ridiculous car with this ridiculous man, much less that we’re going somewhere together.

What am I thinking?

I could have gone back in and made more copies. I have the thumb drive. I don’t need the pages he paid for—it’s not like I lost any money, right?

So why am I here? Why did I agree?

Because he’s hot.

I feel like I’m selling out everyone I work with by doing this. Maybe you can convince him to change things? He obviously likes you.

Yeah, right. You heard him. He can’t fix this stuff, even if he wanted to. The board would fire him.

I should’ve told him to leave me alone.

I let him win by getting in the car. This fine, specimen of an automobile.

Stop!

Stop worshipping the car.

I’m letting him win with each mile that passes. Keeping my hands clasped together between my knees like some kind of starstruck child. I left my car in the parking lot. I hope it doesn’t get towed. Of all the things for me to worry about right now.

I could be spotted with him. How would my coworkers respond to that?

Again, stupid. Stupid, stupid.

I need to gather some intelligence and find a way out of this. Yeah, a plan. That’s what I need to do. I start looking around for anything I could use to my advantage, any information to take in.

Like the size of his hands. Dear God, give me strength. I just suddenly realized I’m very into men with large, capable hands. No wonder he was so good with a football. I wonder what else he’s good with.

Hazel Strous!

Why did I just hear my name shouted in my mom’s voice?

What is this guy doing to me? I need to think about Cheryl and Jim and all the other workers who are struggling, lives falling apart. They’re counting on me, even if they don’t know it yet. They will soon enough.

And what happens if they find out I betrayed them? That’s unacceptable. People need a leader they can look up to and respect. Somebody they can trust. I have to be that person. I already put myself in that position.

That’s why my resolve is stronger than ever by the time we reach a virtually empty mall on the edge of town.

There are still a couple of flagship stores open, one on either end, but the sparse number of cars speak to the emptiness of the building connecting them.

The irony isn’t lost on me, either. When I was a kid, everyone came to this mall. It was always jam packed, especially during the holidays. It was fun to go there, everyone did it. And why does it look like a ghost town now? Because the man next to me put it out of business, that’s why.

And just like any other mall, there are surrounding businesses that depend on it. Half of those look like they’re gone, and half look like they’re struggling to hang on. Surely, he’s not taking me to the…

“What, you expect someplace expensive?” He snickers, parking the car close to the entrance. “Trying to shake me down for even more money?”

“Just what’s fair, nothing more.” He’s so smug, so sure of himself. God, sometimes he actually is kind of hot, then he opens his big stupid mouth and ruins it.

And I mean like ridiculously hot, with great big hands and a voice that wraps itself around me like the cashmere he’s wearing.

Now that he took off that stupid hat and sunglasses disguise, anyway.

I still can’t quite believe it when we get out of the car. This has to be a joke, but he seems completely serious as he opens my door and extends a hand as if I need help to get out.

I ignore his hand and get out on my own. “I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

What is this? I keep glancing around.

“What, never been here before?”

“Oh, I have been.” I glance over at him. “You on the other hand…”

He smirks at me again. “Hah. Please.” He starts to walk inside.

Once again, leaving me to chase after him. I give a silent goodbye to the car and let her know I’ll see her again soon. Very soon.

It seems we’ve become friends.

The place hasn’t changed when I step inside. It’s the same as the last time I came in here, probably five or six years ago. More purple and gold in one place than a human can possibly imagine. Vikings jerseys, banners, helmets. The vinyl seats in the booths? Purple. The napkins? Purple. There are even gold and purple lights strung up across the ceiling, running from one end of the room to the other.

A glance at Paxton tells me he thinks nothing of this. The sign in front tells us to seat ourselves, and I trail behind him, not surprised when he chooses a booth near the back. He might stoop so low as to spend time among the common folk, but he clearly doesn’t want to be recognized.

If there’s anywhere in the world that would recognize him, it’s probably this place.

Most people in here are below him, but they would all recognize the famous Minnesota Gopher quarterback.

I drop into the booth, facing him. “I am surprised you step a foot in places like these.”

“Yeah? You’re judgy as shit, you know that?”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it, before I even knew it was on the way.

He laughs, too, and for the first time it feels like we’re nothing more than two normal people having a conversation. That’s all. Not a boss and employee, not a billionaire and college senior who works in a warehouse. We’re just two people sitting down for a drink.

I have to end that, immediately. It’s unacceptable.

“What did you expect?” He looks around, smiling fondly. “I know you’re young, but I did play football, once upon a time.” He says it with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to flatter me.” He smirks again.

“You know I will never do that.” I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. “Ever. It’s literally the last thing I would do, before death.”

“You don’t have to be so over the top with your hatred of me. I get it. The one percent, evil villain guy.”

“My dad was a big fan of yours. You’re his favorite Gopher of all time.”

“No shit? That’s really nice to hear.” To my surprise, he looks like he genuinely appreciates hearing that. The lines around his mouth and eyes soften, like some of the tension drains out of his face. “I’m surprised anyone remembers.”

“They probably wouldn’t if you hadn’t taken over the world with your business.”

“Good point.” He’s still snickering like he’s holding back a mischievous laugh. “Tell your dad I said thanks, sincerely.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d get hit with a million other questions, and I refuse to talk about you one second more than is necessary.”

“Maybe after we’ve solved our disputes, you can tell him this tale over a fire at Christmastime, of the former great quarterback turned evil CEO.”

“That might be a possibility.”

“See? That’s called compromise. Didn’t know you had it in you. But we’re making progress, Strous.”

“Hilarious.” Suddenly, a server appears at my left, and I freeze up like a deer in headlights.

Why am I so on edge? She might know him, but she’s damn sure not going to know me. That’s what these people do. They get you paranoid because they follow you around, put listening devices on stuff, track you at work.

The people at Rapid just want a place to work and feel they’re doing something important. Get paid and go home. Take some days off for a vacation or take care of a sick kid without being hassled to death by their boss, then hassled again by their insurance, because the boss chose a cheaper plan for everyone that doesn’t cover everything.

They’re the ones making people this way!

Then they brush it off and act like you’re the insane one when you try to bring it up, that it’s unfair and morally wrong.

“I’ll have whatever lager you’ve got on tap.” He turns to me, and I can tell he finds all of this amusing.

“I'll have the same.” I don't even care, so long as I don’t feel the need to squirm in my seat.

“May I see your ID?” The waitress glances over at me.

Why is my face so damn pale right now? Why do I feel like a ghost? “You know what, I just…”

“Just show her your ID, Strous. It’s her job.” He pulls his out and sets it on the table too.

It gives the waitress something to look at while I fumble for mine. Even though I shouldn’t be having any alcohol around this man! What am I even doing?

I manage to get my ID out. It feels like she’s looking it over way longer than she needs to. Paxton sits there, grinning at me, obviously amused by this.

Finally, the server pushes it back over and walks off.

“You need to loosen up.” He lowers his voice a little like we’re some clandestine spies, even though she’s gone.

“Easy for you to say.” I glare at him. “You don’t have nearly as much at stake as I do.”

“Not everyone is out to get you.”

See! Told you he’d do that!

He continues. “You’re right, though. A multinational billion-dollar company is extremely low stakes. Maybe I’ll come visit you in the high rollers game someday.”

“See, there you go.” I sit back, arms folded. “You’re measuring it in dollars. I’m thinking about people. The people I work with.” I point at my chest. “A tiny fraction of that billion dollars would change their lives and make them happy. But you already said. You’d lose your job for not making the shareholders all get their extra quarter of a point.”

“I understand the way you view things. It’s very simplistic, but I get it.” He is so damn condescending.

Like nobody but him could possibly understand how his business works.

“I have to think about the company as a whole, and what’s best for it for the next five, ten, twenty years. Pleasing investors is part of it. And the employees at the other warehouses, and at corporate. Some of it I’m legally bound to do.”

I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help it. “Like you go in and work at the office every day.”

“You don’t know the first thing about my work habits.” There’s something about the way he says it that makes me shiver a little.

I try to hide it, but he must notice—the slight twitching of his lips tells me so.

“I could sit here and decide you’re nothing but a child who still lives with her parents and hasn’t yet graduated college, and summarize you as someone who doesn’t have the slightest clue or experience with how the world works. That would be a bit unfair for me to do that though, wouldn’t it?”

“Just slightly.” The words come through my teeth.

“So why don’t you drop this ridiculous cartoon villain caricature you’ve made of me in your mind, and try to live in reality. I’m here. In front of you. Am I not? You’re lucky to have this opportunity to tell me about whatever it is you’re wanting, and you’re wasting it by being all emotional and combative.”

“I’m emotional?” I want to punch his smug face, but it would only validate the stupid point he’s trying to make. Whatever that is. “Fair enough—let’s all be civilized here. We’ll waltz past the fact you didn’t go through my file to find out I live with my parents and I’m still in college, by the way.”

He cuts me off. “Considering you’re trying to organize a union in one of my warehouses behind my back, I think looking into your personal information is the natural first step anyone in their right mind would take.”

“You then followed me, stole my fliers, coerced me into your car.”

“I didn’t make you get in.”

“Whatever. We’re talking in circles. And we both know you’re the one being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grins right at me again.

Why is it kind of sexy when he does it?

It should be infuriating! This is not right, what he’s doing. He shouldn’t be able to get away with it by being all cute and charming. No wonder he’s been able to take over the world.

We both fall silent when our drinks arrive, and I’m glad to have something to do with my hands now. I have something to look at besides the man sitting across from me, which is another bonus, since looking at him does funny things to me on the inside. It also makes me wonder what his arms would feel like under my hands. God, his biceps are huge. He might not be an athlete anymore, but it’s obvious he takes care of himself.

Yeah, like any of his employees have time to go to the gym.

“How do you manage to stay in such good shape? With all that hard work you’re always doing?”

“We have a gym inside corporate. Makes it convenient to work out.”

I pretend to whistle. “Must. Be. Nice.”

“It is. You should come by and try it out. It’s open to any employees.”

“Not so convenient for the rest of us.”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, then says, “Can’t win ‘em all.”

I need to quit humanizing him, no matter how hard he tries to get me to. This is not my friend, and he’s certainly not my latest crush. This is my adversary. I can’t forget it.

He’s oblivious to all this, though, studying me with an intensity I don’t know that I feel comfortable with. What’s he thinking? There’s no way he finds me as attractive as I find him, so why is he staring like that? He could have any woman on this planet he wants. Celebrities included.

He takes a huge gulp of his beer then sets the glass down. “So, do you watch football? Or is it just your dad?”

Is he seriously trying to be my friend? How lonely is it when you’re a billionaire?

Maybe he is vulnerable in that area of his life. Maybe I could use it to my advantage. I might as well try to meet him halfway —who knows? This could turn out helping everybody at the warehouse. “I’ve seen my share of football games.”

“Yeah. But are you a fan?”

“I should be at home right now before kickoff. That’s where I was headed. Instead, I’m here with you.”

“I could write you a note for your dad. Let him know you’re late because you’re hanging out with the incredible Paxton Briggs. But you already said we can’t tell him until a future Christmas sometime.”

“Good point. He’d just frame it anyway. I’m sure he’ll be fine without me for a bit .” Do I add a little extra emphasis to that last part? Of course I do, because I can’t sit here all day. One of us needs to be sensible, and it looks like that has to be me. “So…” I glance around. “Guessing you’re a Vikes fan?”

“I like it here.” He looks toward the bar, where a bunch of men are making predictions about this week’s game. “Good atmosphere for a game. And people don’t make a big deal about me. The regulars, anyway. They have beers with me and we talk football. I tell them behind-the-scenes stories from college, what happened after the injury. Everyone’s happy.”

There’s almost a wistfulness to his voice, and the sound of it comes dangerously close to my heart. It doesn’t help that I’ve always been the girl with a thing for the bird with the broken wing. His college football career really did break my heart, the way it happened.

But what he’s done since… Not so much.

This man is no bird, and he is not broken. I can’t trick myself into thinking otherwise just because he’s shown a momentary flash of humanity. Still, I can’t help indulging my curiosity a little.

“Do you miss hanging out with regular people? That why you come here?”

A knowing little smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t do that shit, Strous.” He sighs. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m some tragic figure.”

“I’m not, trust me.” Though I was about two seconds away from falling into that trap.

“Then yeah, sometimes I do. There aren’t many people left from my younger days, before college football. And I didn’t cut them out, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“They cut you out?”

He takes a long pull from his pint glass before answering. I never thought the rising and falling of an Adam’s apple could be so fascinating. “In a way.” He considers the question for a few more seconds. “Wealth does things to people—the ones who have it and the ones who don’t. It can actually be a curse. Not that you’d ever understand that.”

“How is it a curse?”

“You a journalist now?” His voice is hard. Instantly, he softens. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. It came out wrong.”

I don’t tell him it’s okay, because it’s not okay. I’m not going to lie. “Well, it did come out like that.”

“Sorry.” He shifts a little on the bench, and our legs brush together.

I pull mine back like I’m afraid of getting burned, determined to ignore the little frisson of sensation that races through my body at even such an innocent, accidental contact.

“For one, it just muddies everything. You don’t have any clue what is true, who really cares about you, who doesn’t. The only people you can trust are the ones who have already proven themselves. Everyone else, from that point forward, you’re always going to wonder what they want from you. It makes you paranoid as shit, to everyone’s intentions.”

“I could see that.”

“Really?” He smirks.

“Yeah. That has to be exhausting, even for a billionaire. To not know who to trust.”

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not, and I really like that about you.”

“I’m serious. I imagine being ridiculously wealthy comes with its own problems.”

His eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me.

I open mine wider and stare hard at him. “I’m serious. I didn’t say your life is harder than people down on the warehouse floor. Just that I’m sure you have some problems. I realize life isn’t perfect for anybody.”

He smiles, like a real genuine smile. It’s almost unbearable how attractive he is, especially when he looks happy. “I owe you an apology.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I fold my hands on top of the table.

“This isn’t some negotiation right now.” He snickers. “And I owe you an apology for denigrating you about your age. It was wrong of me to do that. You’re clearly wise beyond your years.”

“Don’t flatter me because I agreed with you on one thing.” I grimace before picking up my glass. “And don’t say ‘wise beyond your years’, like ever again. You sound like my grandpa.”

“Ouch.” He makes a show like he’s wincing in pain. “I already have the knee that hurts in bad weather. Don’t need you giving me any extra shit beyond that.” He seems to be enjoying our little back and forth, very much. Almost too much.

If I’m not careful, I’m going to start enjoying it more than I should too.

We’re here for a reason. He stole my fliers! This isn’t some date. I shudder a little in my mind, just thinking about it.

“So, you understand that billionaires have problems too.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, you have the power to make a lot of lives better, at the snap of a finger.”

He looks away, shaking his head, then turns back. “See. That’s another misconception. Maybe, when the company was smaller, when I had more control, and even then, I couldn’t just do things like that. There are steps. Now, it’s almost impossible.”

“Please, you have a bully pulpit. You could point this stuff out and it would get cleaned up. I don’t believe you. You don’t want to do it. Did you even look into the stuff I said? Or is all this…” I scan around the room. “Just to keep the union organization from happening?”

His smile disappears, but he doesn’t look frustrated. Just… Serious. “I looked into some of it. Some of it I don’t really agree with, but some of what you said feels exaggerated too.”

“Which part would that be?”

“Look, can we just watch the game?”

“No, what part did I exaggerate? I’m dying to know.”

“Forget it. I thought we could speak rationally about it, but clearly we’re not ready for that yet.”

They always do that when you get them on the ropes. It’s a tactic to distract. He knows perfectly well what I told him was happening, is happening.

“I’ll take the conversation seriously when you actually answer questions and stop relying on logical fallacies to make your points. I want to know specifically, which thing I exaggerated and how I exaggerated it.”

“Well, for starters, you said everyone gets four weeks maternity leave.”

“That’s not what…”

“You going to let me finish? Or will you be cutting me off every time I answer your question?”

I wave a hand forward. “By all means, sir.” I glare when I say the last part.

“Four weeks is granted to everyone, automatically. Unfortunately, Cheryl, that was her name, right?”

Holy crap, he actually remembered. I nod slowly.

“She’s only been here for a year. At two years, it goes up to six, at five years, it goes up to eight. I realize the United States doesn’t have the same benefits that a lot of other western countries have, but our maternity policy is in the top ten percent of American companies on the Fortune 500.”

“It’s still crap. Even eight weeks after five years. For someone with a new kid. Especially for someone whose kid is sick and might die.”

“I know you think I’m an evil dictator, but I actually fought to get it tiered that high. If I go higher, the board and investors start taking notice. Start wanting to look for ways to strip costs. This is above market and keeps them off my ass. You know how much money it costs? To give a new employee eight weeks of maternity leave in the first year and they take all of it? Do you?”

I sit there, glaring at him.

“Do you know how much it costs to train new employees? I didn’t think so. We’re already in the hole if they don’t last a year. That’s why it is what it is, and it’s extended after a few years of service. We can’t afford to pay to train someone, then pay them to stay home for eight weeks. So why don’t you take your concerns to Congress. If they pass a law making it mandatory to give certain amounts of leave, we will comply with it.”

“Maybe I will.”

He laughs at that one, then nods along. “I believe you. Did you corner your senator in an elevator and yell at him? Make him out to be the worst human being alive?”

“Like any senators here would listen to us when they’re on your payroll.”

“Are you suggesting we bribe public officials?”

“Isn’t that what lobbying is? Legal bribery? Are you saying you don’t contribute to their campaigns? Way more than any of us little employees. Sure, I bet they’ll jump to do what’s right for us.”

He shakes his head like I don’t live in the real world, then turns his attention back to the football game on the old TV hanging by the bar. “You’re impossible to discuss things with.”

“That wasn’t a denial. And that was your one big problem with everything I told you in the elevator? I remember addressing more than maternity leave times. Your excuse is crap, by the way. Congress hasn’t made you do the right thing, so it makes it okay to keep moms and dads from their kids? Good to know!” I give him a fake smile and a super-fake thumbs up.

He starts to say something, but my phone buzzes with a text from Mom.

“Shoot. I didn’t text my parents to let them know I’d be a while.” The second I say it, I wince. I know it’s just a courtesy, to be respectful. That they will worry about me.

To him, it probably sounds like I’m a little teenager who has to check in with Mom and Dad.

He smiles. “Gonna tell them your boss kidnapped you?”

“I might.”

I wish he wasn’t so easy to like. Part of me wants to pick a fight so I can go back to hating him.

He is the bad guy! They literally track us in the warehouse. He didn’t say a damn thing about that one.

“Any siblings or an only child?” Paxton leans back in his seat.

I fire off a text to Mom and Dad telling them I’ll be home soon, that I got held up. It’s not a lie.

While I’m typing, Paxton decides to skip past his question and take the lead.

“It’s just me and my sister. She has two boys. They’re the rowdiest hellians you’ll ever meet. My parents still live in the area.”

“It’s funny. I didn’t imagine you with parents.”

“Like I was grown in an incubator? Some kind of sci-fi experiment?”

“Maybe. Some Brave New World breeding the ultimate human to run the planet.”

He doesn’t know I can see, but I watch as he writes in a fifty-dollar tip for the server, for a couple of beers.

Fifty bucks for dropping off two beers, and she never once came back to the table to see how we were doing or if we needed anything else. Not bad. She deserves it for some of the stuff she probably puts up with in this place.

So where the hell is that generosity when it’s needed at scale? In his own damn company!

He’s so hard to read. Like impossible, really. Where was this likable guy on the elevator?

Was it because it was morning and he was cranky? I get that he likes to make jokes and all, but this is the place for jokes. A bar like this. Not at work, talking about injuries and sick kids.

I’m going to go insane trying to figure this out.

“There.” He finishes something on his phone before sliding it into his back pocket. “There’s an Uber on the way. It’ll take you to the store to get your car. I had something come up and I have to go the opposite way. I’m sorry about that.”

That shouldn’t make me sad. If anything, I should be happy about it. Even though I really want to ride in the Charger again. I won’t lie, it’s disappointing.

It’s better this way though. I’ve already spent too much time with him. This is already insane, what we’re doing here. But there’s no ignoring the way my heart sinks as we walk out the door. It’s gotten even colder, somehow, since we went inside, with clouds rolling in overhead. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was getting ready to snow.

The weather in this place. Sheesh.

He must notice the way I shiver. “Wish I had a coat to offer you.” He nods toward the Charger. “Want to wait inside? Or we can go back in?—”

Yes!

I shake my head, trying not to tremble. “No, this is fine.” Of course I want to. And that’s wrong. Maybe a little shivering is good for me. Maybe it’ll sober me up, after one whole beer, and I’ll stop wishing I could snuggle up against his big, warm body.

He glances at his phone one more time. “Car’s only a few minutes away.” He’s wearing his sunglasses again, so I can’t see the look in his eyes, but there’s genuine warmth in the upward curve of his lips. “I really need to get going. But thanks for talking to me.”

“Did we accomplish anything?” I stare at him like yeah, you’re hot, but this was stupid.

“I think so, from my perspective.”

“And what would that be?”

He slowly takes off the glasses, and the intensity of his gaze smacks right into my chest.

He walks over, incredibly close to me. “What do you think?”

Good God. I look anywhere but at him because holy hell, it’s like he grew twice as big when he’s standing right in front of me. “I don’t know.” So lame. It’s like my brain doesn’t work when he’s all broody this close to me.

I could literally reach out and touch one of those arms of his. Squeeze one of the biceps.

Now, he’s getting closer to my ear.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, would you?” He inches even closer, the toes of our shoes touching. He’s overwhelming, filling the entire world around me with his scent and his warmth and those eyes of his, eyes I could drown in. My heart’s racing a million beats per minute. Everything else fades away. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something. Something in his look, something in the air. I don’t know how to describe it. He leans down next to my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck.

“I’m not a reckless man, Hazel. But you make me do reckless things.”

Holy crap.

I don’t even know how to respond, but I try. My mouth is so dry and my palms are so sweaty, even in this frozen tundra wasteland weather. “Y-you want me to apologize?” I do my best to put some attitude in it, but it’s weak. We all know it’s weak. My knees could buckle any second.

Where is the Uber!?

I can feel him smirking. He knows how nervous I am. I know he knows it.

“Would you apologize, if I go first? Start this all over?” His face is back in front of mine now, and he looks totally sincere. His eyes travel down to my mouth and linger, before coming back up to mine. The way he just stared at my lips, tells me that’s what he’s here for, right now. That’s what he wants. And the second his eyes come back to mine, they tell me he’s about to take what he wants.

Holy hell. Is he about to kiss me?

Am I about to let him?

How is this possible?

Yes, in fact! His head starts moving, like it’s in slow motion.

Yes! Yes!

Closer!

I start to lean out to meet him.

Hazel, what the heck are you doing?

Shut up!

Just do it! Think about it later!

His lips begin to part a little. Mine do too. This is going to be the greatest kiss in the history of sports bar kisses.

Just as our lips are about to meet, the door behind us bursts open.

Instantly, instead of kissing me, Paxton pulls me out of the way of a drunk stumbling outside.

The way he came through the doors, he’s either inebriated, or someone gave him a little assistance out the door.

“Shitty, sorry, guys! Scuuse meh!” He throws up an arm, as he mumbles the words, but he’s already past us. When he’s about twenty feet away he throws up a fist and yells, “Vikings!”

“Little early for that level of drunk.” I turn back to Paxton.

He’s glaring right at that guy.

Wow. It looks like he’s legitimately pissed off that the idiot ruined our kiss.

I’m relieved. That is the last thing I should’ve been doing!

What the heck is wrong with me? It’s like I was in a trance. Brainwashed or something. I have to get out of here.

Just then someone else runs through the door, basically knocking me aside, yelling after the drunk guy. Normally, I’d be pretty pissed, but it sends me directly into Paxton’s big, strong arms.

And oh my god, the sweater is even softer than I imagined. I could go to sleep on it, and the muscles underneath it. It should be illegal for a man to be this built and beautiful at the same time.

He gives me a little squeeze, before I pull away, so it doesn’t look like I’m trying to snuggle him.

“That’s the car.” He walks around to double check the plate on it, before he lets me get inside.

Is he being protective?

Thank God the Uber is here! I need out of this situation, now. I’m not making good decisions.

I’m so focused on leaving, I forget the terms of the deal that got me here in the first place. “Hey!” I glare as I’m getting in the back seat. “What about my fliers?”

Paxton grins while leaning on the Charger, waiting for me to leave. “What about them?” He pats the top of his car like they’re all safe and sound.

“Hang on a sec.” I tell the driver before leaving. Then I lean out the window. “We had a deal. I have a drink and you give me my fliers back.”

“Was that the deal?” He snickers and walks toward the window. “Because from what I remember, all I promised was not to throw them in the trash or have a bonfire with them.”

My face heats up and I can feel it turning red.

He continues. “Someone who’s a stickler for details and wants to start a union should be familiar with fine print.” He forms a devilish grin and steps back. “This can be a learning moment for you. I’m sorry some things are the way they are. But I can’t let you unionize the warehouse. Have to think about my company. I did enjoy this, though, very much.”

Did he really just say all that? Is he really laughing to himself as he walks over to that artistic masterpiece of a car?

“You’re such a…” I pause, my face tight, looking for the perfect word. “Miscreant!” I yell it at him.

He turns around, his shoulders bouncing heavily. “You’re allowed to say asshole, Hazel.” He glances around. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Miscreant is better.”

“Whatever you say.” He snickers, then turns around, his shoulders still bouncing with laughter.

Big, broad, attractive shoulders.

What is wrong with you? This guy is a total jerk!

So why do you like him?

Why do you like him a lot?