Page 9 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Part of me was intrigued.

There were a lot of answers I expected.

Boring, for one. Average? Another. Brendon had said I was too fussy, too needy, too colorful. I’d spent years trying to fit into the mold he’d made for me.

And it had worked.

Maybe too well.

Because Mr. Armani’s next words hit harder than he’d meant them to—based on the still-playful expression on his face. “You look like the kind of guy who spends more time with a stick up his ass than a dildo.” He looked expectant, like he anticipated a laugh or something equally optimistic.

But I didn’t laugh.

Instead, I glared at him.

My fury came back full force.

“That may be true,” I admitted, and then added in a darker tone, surprising myself. “Do I also look like the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to stab you? Because I assure you, I’m that too.”

Instead of being frightened, as he should’ve been, Mr. Armani chuckled. Like he did not believe me. Which was fair—and frustrating. I kind of couldn’t believe that had come out of my mouth either. Fighting was not normally something I did.

And yet.

I knew my threat had not been empty.

Which was…odd in and of itself.

And only made his blasé attitude piss me off even more.

“Hey, man.Youwere the one that asked! It’s not my fault you didn’t like my answer.” The stranger shook his head. “I’m Alex, by the way.” His playful smile washorriblyattractive andirritatinglygorgeous. Alex held a hand out to me, massive tanned palm hovering expectantly in the air.

Ass.

I took his hand, surprised by how much bigger it was than mine. Though I was only a few inches shorter than him, he was maybe double my mass. Thick where I was thin, as broad as I was willowy. Alex’s skin was hot and dry. He had calluses—not something I’d expected, given what he was wearing.

Most men in suits like his did not have rough hands.

Begrudgingly, I introduced myself, “George-Arthur Milton.” Alex arched an eyebrow at me in question. “Two first names. Hyphenated.”

“Do you prefer George or Arthur? Or both?” he asked, though I washaving difficulty paying attention to what he was saying when his hand was still clasped possessively around my own.

Should I pull away?

No…no.

That would be weird, wouldn’t it?

Like I was losing this unspoken battle of wills.

“I’dpreferyou stay out of my business.” And then, because I didn’t want him getting any ideas, I actually answered. “But if youmustaddress me, George is fine.”

“Georgie it is.”

I’d had my fair share of men try to intimidate me via the good ol’ handshake. This was my first time responding to macho posturing this way, with goosebumps that prickled up my arms and a surge of lust so fierce it made me breathless. Electricity zapped down my spine when he squeezed.

What the hell?

Quickly, I withdrew my hand, accepting my loss. Something flickered in Alex’s pale gaze that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up.

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