Page 28 of Hired By the Enemy
“You okay back there?” I ask.
“Just taking my time to admire the view,” he says.
“What, the view of my ass?” The words are out of me before I can think, and unfortunately, I don’t have a time machine to go back and change the flirty, playful comment.
Matthew’s eyes meet mine.
“It’s not a completely bad view,” he says slowly. “There are worse views in the world.”
Just as I’m starting to preen, he continues, “For example, the view of a tapeworm is worse. Or maybe a toxic waste disposal site.”
“You two talk to each other like you’re an old married couple,” Henrietta says. “It’s hard to believe you’ve only been together for a month.”
Matthew’s eyebrows fly up and his face colors.
“As I’ve said before, it feels like he’s been part of my life forever,” I say.
The same smooth line I’d used the other day suddenly feels weighed down with more meaning.
Because Matthew has actually been part of my life for almost forever.
Which makes the fact we got each other off even weirder.
But it isn’t just that we got each other off that’s causing my head to spin every time memories of last night slip into my mind.
It was the way we’d kissed each other with such intensity. I’d taunted Matthew that he’d been missing out regarding kissing, but it appears I’d been missing out.
Who knew hate was so close to heat?
I ponder this as we descend into the valley toward the waterfall. I mean, our encounter was simply kissing and mutual hand jobs, so why the hell did it feel like the hottest thing I’ve ever done?
The path winds its way down through the trees, and wecan hear the sound of rushing water long before we see it, but finally, a turn in the path reveals the waterfall ahead.
The water thunders from a height, crashing into the pool below in a spray of white froth.
I turn instinctively to look at Matthew’s face. Because, apparently, some part of me wants to see Matthew wide-eyed and in awe of the power of nature, raw and untamed.
A movement on his shoulder draws my attention away from his face.
Oh fuck. There’s another bit of raw and untamed nature on display. Only this time, it’s taken the form of a spider about half the size of a saucer sitting on Matthew’s shoulder.
He hasn’t noticed it yet, which is a good thing. Otherwise, there’s a chance my eardrums wouldn’t still be working.
I know all about Matthew’s phobia of bugs. I’ve exploited his phobia too many times to count.
Fake bugs in his lunchbox and locker. Dressing up as a grasshopper one Halloween just to freak him out. The cockroach in his sleeping bag on our school field trip was a particular highlight.
But I really don’t want Matthew to have a panic attack in front of people who work for him now.
I bend down and pick up a leaf, then lean in close to him.
“Um…don’t panic, there’s just a small spider on your shoulder. I’m going to get rid of it.”
Matthew goes completely still. His eyes widen and his breathing speeds up. “There’s a spider on me?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Matthew’s eyes find mine. There’s pure fear in them. Which gives me a twinge of guilt at how I used to torment him in the past.
