Page 10 of Over & Out

Goddammit,I had no idea someone could resemble an oversized, hungover chipmunk and still be so stupidly handsome.

Hopper Donnach swallows calmly, then sets the glass back on the table with a dull clink. Still, he won’t let me go with those eyes. Not even after he shakes out his cloth napkin and pats his mouth like a stupid, gorgeous duke.

“What’s the matter, bangles?” he asks as he tosses the napkin onto the table. “That smart tongue of yours seems to be a little tied.”

Hearing him saytonguein reference tomytongue does something weird to my insides. Either that or my ire has reached new heights.

“Nothing’s the matter,” I say, surprising myself with the coolness of my tone given the heat going on inside me. “I’m just impressed with how expertly you were able to fit two large balls into your mouth at once.”

One eyebrow lifts. “I’ll try anything twice.”

I open my mouth, then snap it shut again.Just when I think I’ve got him.

The man smirks once more. Then he finally looks away, his expression bored. “That’s all, thanks.”

I don’t know if it’s the look or the words. Or the fact that this man doesn’t know me from Eve but has caught me at my lowest. But that heat before? Suddenly it’s straight-up lava flooding my veins. This arrogant, entitled asshole has stuck a finger in the softest, most vulnerable parts of me, and all I am to him is an inconvenience. An anger I haven’t felt in years, fueled by years of stuffed-down pain, has me straightening my back, my hands on my hips. “Yes. That is all. Because I’m not serving you.”

The man snaps his gaze to me. “Youhaveto serve me. That’s your job.”

“No, see, there’s this thing called the right to refuse service.”

He opens his mouth, but the woman speaks first. “Hopper,” she says, her voice steely. “That’s enough.”

I expect him to throw a hissy fit. That’s what entitled celebrities do, right? But to my shock, he closes his eyes and leans back against the booth.

“He’s sorry, right?” she says, eyes on him.

Hopper opens his eyes, blinks at the woman, then pins them on me. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sure you are,” I bite out before I can stop myself.

But the mirth I saw in those blue eyes a moment ago is gone. He suddenly looks tired. “The rumors are true; I’m a dick. I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end.”

Is he being sincere? There’s no way. A guy like this has had everything handed to him on a silver platter and feels entitled to treat service people like trash. To hell with him and hissorry. Too little, too late.

Luckily, Luke chooses that moment to appear at the table with the tray of food. Except I remember only as he sets the plate down in front of the movie star what I ordered for him.

Luke, who doesn’t always pay great attention, sees who he’s serving as the first plate is in midair. His jaw drops so far I’m surprised it doesn’t clunk onto the table.

“Holy shit, it’s the Laser!” he says, referencing, I think, some superhero movie. But as he says it, he drops the plate directly onto the wood tabletop. A loud crack sounds as the ceramic splits in two, and all four of us watch—some in horror, some in awe—as the rubbery hunk of goat falls off the table, bounces like a basketball, and rolls across the floor in a wet splatter, hitting some poor woman’s shoe.

Chapter 4

Chris

Mac breathes through his nose as he closes the door to his office. Which means he’s upset and trying to hide it. Mr. VIP is still sitting out there, probably mollified by some fancy steak for breakfast.

“Mac—”

“No.”

“Mac. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t?—”

“Don’t.” He sits behind his desk, rubbing his temples. “I know you’ve been going through a lot.”

My stomach twists. This is not what I expected him to say. Even a concerned Mac would give me a “what the hell was that” or “what did you do to my goat?”

But this crushed look on his face? Suddenly it hits me. “Oh my God. You’re firing me!”

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