Page 40 of Anti-Hero

“The dress is ruined,” I answer.

And whenever I look at it, I think about you.

Two excellent reasons to get rid of the gray dress, but it’s still taking up space in my tiny closet.

He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat. “Too bad.”

“Tragic,” I drone, then look out the window.

Traffic’s let up a little. We’re nearly off the bridge.

I can’t see Kit’s smirk, but Ifeelits presence.

“Was that true earlier? You worked with your ex?”

My head jerks back toward him. He’s still smirking.

I scowl. “Eavesdrop on private conversations much?”

Kit doesn’t look the least bit abashed. “Don’t have your ‘private conversations’ outside of my office, and I won’t listen to them.”

“Technically, I was having a private conversation inmyoffice. It just happens to lack the walls you have.Thinwalls, apparently.”

I had to call IT this morning because of a software problem. The mid-thirties guy who showed up to solve it was friendly.Veryfriendly. He asked if I wanted to get a drink sometime while fixing my computer, so I told him I don’t date coworkers after a badexperience with an ex. Which was true. Also a convenient excuse since I didn’t feel a spark of attraction toward the employee whose name I’ve already forgotten.

He brakes at a stoplight. “So, you worked together when he cheated?”

I exhale. “No. I wouldn’t go out with him while we worked at the same firm, so he changed jobs.”

“How romantic,” Kit drawls.

“I thought so,” I say, ignoring his sarcasm. “Or Iwantedto think so. I should have known better. Men love the chase, not the catch, right?”

He worked hard to date me. But as soon as he had me, Isaac got bored. Became sloppy and selfish.

“You’re expecting me to agree with that?”

“Well, you’re an example.”

The red glow from the stoplight gives Kit’s expression an ominous appearance. So does his glower. “How the fuck amIan example?”

“You chased me for years. Then we had sex, and you lost interest.”

“Ilost interest? You snuck out while I was still sleeping!”

“I thought that’d be easier,” I tell him. “It’s not like you reached out after.”

I hate—hate—that the second sentence slipped out. We both knew it was a one-night stand.

A muscle in Kit’s jaw jumps. But his eyes are on the road, hiding the rest of his expression.

“Sounds like youlikebeing chased, Collins. I thought you leaving meant you had gotten what you wanted and were done.”

I did. I am.

The words won’t come out because there was a small part of me—beforehe became my boss—that was disappointed I’d never heard from him. That wondered what he would have said if I’d stayed until he woke up.

I exhale. “I should have taken the subway, Kit. You’re my boss, and this is inappro?—”

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