Page 107 of The Nanny and the Hothead
What the heck had she seen in him?
But he was the least of her problems.
“Charlotte Ames,” Sutton Bryan scoffed. “You work at a food truck now? Serves you right after what happened at our last shoot. How pathetic! I knew you’d never make it in photography. And by the way, my mom wants the mermaid tail back. And you better believe we’re coming after you if there’s any damage to it.”
She stood there, mouth hanging open. On a humiliation scale of one to ten, she’d pegged herself at a solid six thousand four hundred and twenty-three.
Dear Universe, you have one hell of a sense of humor! Also…you suck! Hardcore!
“Hey, Charlotte, what are your plans for later? Are you getting off from your food truck job soon?” Cliff asked, shifting his stance. “I was in the neighborhood and saw the sign for free lunch. And look at that! Here you are! And I figured, since last time we went out, I paid. You could pay for this date and then my whole day would be free. Pretty cool, right? So, wanna hang out later?”
“What?” she eked out. “What about your girlfriend?”
Cliff stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Kimberly and I didn’t work out. She met some dude at the speed date thing. They skipped town and headed to Cabo together. So, it’s your lucky day!”
Lucky day?
How, for even a fraction of a second, could she have thought there was a future with this guy?
The nerve of the creep!
She grabbed the closest thing to her—her water bottle—as a fit of fiery anger roiled in her belly.
“Buddy,” Sutton Bryan griped, edging in front of the man in all his spray-tan glory. “This womanowes me a mermaid tail.”
She stared at the creep. “What are you even doing here, Sutton?”
He cocked his miserable head to the side. “Sutton…”
Oh, for Pete’s sake!
“Sutton Bryan, what are you doing here?” she corrected, spitting out his stupid name.
Was it possible to hate this man any more than she already did?
The answer—hell-to-the-yes!
He cleared his throat. “I had an appointment at one of the new galleries down here. I wanted to give them a first look at my newest portfolio,” he answered, but without the same swagger and dogged cocky bravado he’d had when he’d rolled up to the counter.
“And? Will your photos be gracing the walls of trendy galleries?” she bit out, surprised she had it in her.
He glanced away. “Nothing is definitive. It’s still up in the air. Negotiations are ongoing.”
The fire in her belly intensified.
What a load of complete and utter bullshit!
“That’s a no, then. You got rejected,” she shot back.
Holy cow! Who was this Charlotte? Was she channeling Harper? Had the topsy-turviness of her life pushed her over the edge?
Sutton Bryan puffed up like a bloated orange peacock. “Gloat all you want. No gallery would ever entertain the likes of you and your shit photographs. You honestly owe me for even giving you a shot—even if you did have to dress up like a mermaid.”
She narrowed her gaze. There it was—the final straw!
She lifted the water bottle, prepared to launch it at the bloated blatherer when something stopped her—a presence, a calming energy, a magnetic pull she’d recognize anywhere.
Mitch.
