Page 269 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

She’s lying.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask.

Just because Naomi is the most frustratingly lucky person I know doesn’t mean she’s any good with money. She’s not so great about responsibility, either. It’s fifty-fifty she’s supposed to be at work right now.

“The boss gave me a day,” she says.

“What’d you do?” I ask.

The one breed of human Naomi’s luck doesn’t seem to affect are her employers. They tend not to appreciate the constant lateness, overbearing personality, and more than a few have made the mistake of bringing up Naomi’s nose, lip, and eyebrow rings as a bad thing. Those conversations never end well.

“I didn’t doanything,” she says. “I’m being rewarded.”

“Oh,” I say, and in a slightly different tone, I ask again, “What’d you do?”

“Well,” she says, “it’s not so much whatIdid.”

I’m going to hate this story; I know it.

“I wasout at lunch with Kim, and she got into a little fender bender with a mailbox,” she says.

“Uh huh,” I respond, unimpressed. “So what did you tell your boss happened?”

“That’s not the point,” she says. “The point is that I have been through a traumatic experience, and I just need a day to clear my head so I can come back to work with, you know …”

“A clear head?” I ask. “I’ve looked through your ears. I’d say it’s pretty vacant up there as it is.”

“Kim’s fine, by the way,” Naomi says, “not that you care or anything.”

“You just said it was a minor fender bender with a mailbox? How injured could she possibly have been?” I ask.

Naomi’s about to answer, but her eyes go wide, and she pitches forward as Max head-butts her directly in the posterior. Iwouldcatch her, but it’s more rewarding if I don’t.

“I told you,” I say. “If you mention food around Max, you’ve got to follow through. He doesn’t take being teased lightly.”

“You’ve got to teach your dog about personal space,” Naomi says, rubbing her butt before leaning back against the counter as Max stares up at her with a beautiful, canine smile.

“Top of the fridge,” I tell her. “It’s your only way out of this mess you’ve caused.”

“I love how everything’s my mess,” Naomi snarks.

I smile. “Me too,” I tell her. “It’s always made me feel like the responsible one.”

“You’re a peach,” she says.

Peach doesn’t mean peach.

“You know, it’s funny,” she says.

“I bet it’s not,” I answer.

She scoffs and says, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Don’t need to,” I tell her, shutting off the water. “Dry the dishes or don’t,” I say. “I’m done.”

She says, “It’s funny that you chastise me for accidentally teasing Max by saying the word—”

“Oh, I really wouldn’t repeat it,” I tell her as Max’s lips come together in anticipation of the treat he is rightfully owed.

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