Page 11 of Beautiful Desire
He holds my gaze, jaw tight, and I swear, he’s about to pop a blood vessel as the vein on his forehead pulses.
“Don’t make me ask again,” I taunt, keeping my voice low. Lips curling into a grin, I add, “Be a good boy and do as you’re told. Repeat after me,yes, ma’am.”
The silence and tension filling the air is deafening, his anger palpable. Fletcher doesn’t say anything for a moment. We stand in front of each other in a silent standoff, and just when I think he’s going to flat-out refuse, he huffs out a sharp exhale and mutters, “Yes,ma’am.”
Elation swells in my chest, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the scowl on his face, as if calling me “ma’am” and using his manners physically pained him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
Clenching his jaw again, he doesn’t say a word as he turns and storms down the hall, disappearing into the spare room that’s now his, the door slamming shut behind him.
Pleased with myself, I spin around and sit back in the chair beside Charley.
“I’m officially wet,” she announces. “Thanks for that.”
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “Yeah, but I kind of bit myself in the ass with that one. Not only do I have to see him in my house, but now I have to see him at work too. I’m never going to escape him.”
Although, I can’t deny how much fun I’ll have putting him in his place again whenever he acts up. So, maybe it won’t be all bad.
4
Fletcher
This is such bullshit.
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Georgia asks, a bite to her tone as I feel her eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.
“Yes, Georgia,” I huff out, turning to meet her narrowed gaze. “I hear you. How could I not?”
It’s day one of this stupid fucking job, and I already hate it. We’ve been standing in front of this cash register for the last twenty minutes while she explains how to use it, like it’s really that hard. I’ve managed entire teams, ran board meetings, and dealt with multi-million-dollar properties before. I think I can handle ringing somebody up for a fucking book. The fact that I’m even here, forced to work in a place likethis, when clearly, I’m way overqualified, is infuriating.
I’m a businessman, for Christ’s sake, not a cashier in a bookstore. This is an egregious waste of my time. I should be in Charleston right now, getting ready for my final semester of college and prepping to become partner at St. James Properties,a position that’s been promised to me since I was a kid. Butnooo. Instead, I’m being made to look like a fool as I stand here and listen to my obnoxious and crass stepsister teach me how to find a book in her system by searching the number on the stupid fucking barcode.
What a fucking joke.
And of course, my father thinks it’s a great fucking idea.“Do what Georgia thinks is best, Fletcher”were his exact words. It’s horse shit. Fuck them both.
“All right, then, rich boy.” Amusement curls her lips and wrinkles her forehead as she steps back from the computer. Grabbing a book from the counter behind her, Georgia hands it to me—or rather, shoves it into my chest. “Prove it. Show me how you’d find this one in the system.”
Taking the book from her, I clench my jaw and position myself in front of the screen. Annoyance lances through my chest as I find my way back to where she was. It takes a couple of tries because she closed out of the software before she stepped back. I can feel her gaze on the side of my head again, and it’s aggravating.
She’saggravating.
Clearly, this little fucking bookstore she runs has gone to her head because she walks around with a chip on her shoulder, acting as if people should be tripping over their own feet to do what she says. She may be older than me, but that doesn’t mean she gets to be an asshole and boss me around like I’m some fucking child.
After a minute, I find my way back to the screen Georgia had open before. There’re so many options, and I’m trying to remember which one she had pulled up, but it’s confusing. My heart pounds in my ears as beads of sweat line the back of my neck. Sure, I probably could’ve paid a little more attention when she was rambling on, but like hell am I admitting that to her.
Thinking I finally found the right button to select, I toggle the mouse over it and click, but just as I do, I feel the heat from Georgia’s breath fan my neck as she crowds me, bringing her mouth up to my ear. “Wrong button.” I can hear the amusement in her tone, and it has the edges of my vision going red. “I know you think you’re above all this, rich boy, but you’re not.” Coming up beside me, Georgia uses her elbow to shove me out of the way. “Whether you like it or not, this is your reality for the next however long you’re here, so I’d suggest swallowing that pride of yours and paying attention, because you’re going to feel awfully stupid if you fuck up when a customer is in front of you.”
She rips the book out of my hand and gets right back to explaining how to use the system. This time, I listen, even if what I really want to do is storm out of this fucking store—and this town—and never see her again. What’s more annoying than her bitchy attitude and her thinking she can boss me around is how fucking sexy she is when she does it.
How is it possible to befuriousand turned on at the same time? That’s fucked up.
Walking me through the program a couple more times, Georgia lets me take over, and I even manage to successfully ring up a few customers. She must be satisfied with my progress, because after about twenty minutes, she walks around the counter and says, “I’ll have you continue to work the register while I make a bank run.” Nodding toward the back, she adds, “You should be fine while I’m gone, but Hazel’s back there if you run into any issues.”
I grit my teeth and nod. “Got it,ma’am.”
The sardonic smile she gives me as she walks off both grates on my nerves and has my heart kicking up speed.
Despite my best efforts to forget it ever happened, my mind drifts back to when she informed me I was going to be working here a few days ago. Anger swirls around in my gut like a ball offire all over again, like I’m right back in her living room, listening to her berate me. There was never any asking if I wanted to work here, or even giving me the option to find something else around town that may interest me more. No, shetoldme what I was going to do. Then when she demanded I address her as “ma’am” in front of her sisters and that fucking giggly friend of hers.
