Page 112 of Bad Situation

I kiss her again, feeling her hand slide down my pec and abs, but I catch her wrist before it lands on my cock that’s still encased in my boxers. I shake my head. “Close your eyes. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

She wipes her tears and feigns a put-out disposition. “So you can keep your hand on my ass unconditionally but I can’t feel you up?”

I squeeze. “Pretty much.”

She shuts her eyes and mutters, “Not fair.”

“I’ll let you use and abuse my body when you don’t have a concussion.”

She yawns and pulls the covers up. “Holding you to that.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too.” She reaches back and rests her hand over mine that’s covering most of her ass. “Love your hands on me, too.”

I smile through the darkened room, only a few inches separating the space between our noses. So close, I can feel and hear her breath even. And I tell her what I’ve known to be the truth since the moment I took her in my arms that night in Deep Ellum on a makeshift dance floor. “I know you do.”

Chapter 32

Offers

Three months later…

Jen

“Ms. Montgomery. We weren’t expecting you.”

I smile. “Please, call me Jen. And I’m sorry. I don’t have an appointment. Is Mr. Barrett in?”

“He’s on a call, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“I’m in no hurry.” I adjust my skirt and cross my legs after parking myself across from Trig’s assistant’s desk. If I have to sit here all day, I will. He’s been screening my calls and his assistant has gone out of her way to make sure I’m not in need of legal representation, which I’m not.

Yet, I sort of am.

Fifteen minutes tick by. Then twenty.

Finally, Trig’s door opens. I glance at the clock on my phone and he’s kept me waiting for twenty-three minutes. He’s standing there looking all kinds of rumpled-professional—no tie, two buttons undone at the neck, and his sleeves are rolled up his forearms.

He tips his head and his icy blue eyes narrow. “Did you get arrested again?”

I stand and don’t answer that question but I do tell him the truth. “You’re an asshole for not taking my calls.”

He crosses his arms. “You can add it to the list. I hear it’s a long one.”

Tucking my clutch under my arm I move to his office and look at Trig’s assistant. “Hold his calls, please.”

He shifts so I have room to pass and corrects me, “Don’t hold my calls. Put them all through. I don’t care if it’s my dry cleaner or the dog groomer—”

“You don’t have a dog, Trig. Give it up.”

He shuts the door and heads straight to a mini-fridge. He pulls a bottle of water out, cracks it open, and downs half of it without offering me a beverage. With the amount we pay in a retainer fee, he should offer to run to Starbucks for me.

He shrugs. “I could have a dog.”

I sit in a leather chair across from his desk and roll my eyes. “You don’t have a dog. Hell, you don’t even have a yard. You drive a Benz G Class—which, by the way, very nice choice—but you’ve also kept your circa early eighties pickup truck. And, you ended the only meaningful relationship you’ve had in … well,” I throw out my hand, “you know when, over a year ago. Since you’ve been back in Texas, you only work and spend time with your mother. Maybe you should get a dog.”

He moves to his desk and leans back in his big leather chair. “Not making enough as CFO? You taking on some part-time PI work?”

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