I grit my teeth. I’ve seen this before. It bugged me before. But tonight . . . damn. I hate this burning in my gut.
I’m jealous.
Maybe I was always a little jealous when his “girlfriends” showed up, and that’s why it bothered me so much. But now that Cade and I are together—we haven’t exactly defined our relationship—I’m pissed. Do I have a right to be? We agreed we’re exclusive, although we both agreed that neither of us wants anything serious or long-term. But that doesn’t stop that fire from burning in my belly as I watch Cade smile at Nerissa.
“I better check on things in the kitchen.” I whirl around and stalk past the bar, down the hall and into the kitchen. Things are quieter here, now that the rush of everyone ordering has slowed down, Sam washing dishes, Jenn and Paul cleaning up while Sid finishes up a last order of nachos.
I stand for a moment. There isn’t anything I’m really needed for here. Nonetheless, I grab a broom and start sweeping.
“Busy night for a Tuesday,” Sid comments. “That was good.”
“Yeah.” I bend my head and attack the floor.
“Sometime I’d like to do that,” Jenn says. “Paint, I mean. It looked like fun.”
“It did. Although I’m sure I’d be terrible at it,” I reply. “I think my creativity is limited to food.”
Cade walks in. “Don’t know I agree with that,” he says in a voice low enough for only me to hear.
I glare at him and keep sweeping.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “You don’t need to clean up.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not above helping to clean up.” I grab a dustpan and begin shoveling the crap on the floor into it.
Cade regards me impassively for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Mmm. Come see me in my office once you’ve finished sweeping.” This time he speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, his tone brisk and businesslike. He strides out.
“Uh-oh. In trouble with the boss,” Paul says.
I scrunch up my face.
“I was just joking,” Paul adds hastily.
I force a smile. “I doubt I’m in trouble for working too hard.”
They all laugh. I finish sweeping, wash my hands, and walk into Cade’s office. He’s alone.
“Close the door.”
His firm tone makes my spine stiffen, but I quietly close the door and face him. “Yes, Mr. Hardy?”
He snorts and leans back in his chair. “Mr. Hardy. Ha.”
I lift my eyebrows and cross my arms. “What did you want to see me about?”’
“You don’t need to sweep the goddamn floors.”
My chin jerks down. “Seriously? You’re angry about that?”
He leans forward. “Yeah. I am. Now you tell me—what areyouangry about? And don’t even fucking think of sayingnothing,because I know damn well when a woman says nothing’s wrong that means something’s wrong and I don’t like passive-aggressive games.”
My mouth falls open. I gape at him, my mind whirling. “Why are you angry about me sweeping?”
“Did you sweep the floors at fucking Nova?”