Page 15 of Heartless Boss
I stroll through the living room to get to the kitchen. I set my keys and wallet on the granite counter. Gia bends over with her hands on her knees, facing the stove. She’s no longer wearing the brown dress she wore earlier for work, but hot pink shorts and rainbow knee-high socks.
I can see the outline of her panties, and my dick is raging hard, ready to explode.
Fuck me. My life would be so easy if she looked like the green witch from theWizard of Oz. That way I wouldn’t think about fucking her every five minutes.
I adjust my dick, clear my throat, and she spins around. The yellow tank top clings to her torso, and I can see the outline of her polka-dotted bra. She looks like a fucking rainbow, reminding me of the songShe’s a Rainbowby The Rolling Stones. How can she fit so many colors in one outfit? It’s beyond me.
“You hungry? I made some garlic chicken and asparagus.” Her voice is soft, and I cock my eyebrow. Even though I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t expect her to turn into Paula Deen.
She turns back around and uses a pink oven mitt to take out the food while I park my ass on the leather barstool and fold my arms across my chest.
We don’t speak for a while as she slaps food on my plate and sets it in front of me. I stare at it like she poisoned it. For all I know, she could have.
“What kind of food do you like? So I can buy it,” she says.
Instead of answering her question, I cut off a piece of the meat and shove it in her face.
“What?” she asks, arching her thin brow.
“I want you to eat it first.”
She scrunches up her nose, studying my face like she’s trying to piece a puzzle together. “Why?”
“To make sure you’re not poisoning me.”
“Really? Gunner!” Shock colors her face.
I’m serious as a heart attack. She glares at me like I killed her cat, but I don’t want to end up onThe First 48.
“Yeah,” I deadpan.
“Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I can’t be nice.” She crosses her arms.
Reluctantly, I bite into the chicken. It’s not too dry and not too moist, and then I dig into the asparagus, and it tastes like heaven in my mouth.
Little Miss Rainbow can cook just as good as my ma.
Gia clicks her nails on the granite counter. “Did you taste it?”
“Taste what?” I say, separating the meat from the veggie. It irks my nerves when my food touches—if it does I have to throw the whole plate away. Don’t know why I’m like that. I just am.
“The bleach and peroxide I put in it. I can’t believe you’re still standing after the amount of chemicals I mixed with the garlic and oil,” she says with a straight face.
What. The. Fuck.
I spit out the food. It flies everywhere, and she jumps out of the way while bursting out laughing like a hyena. I tear a paper towel from the holder and wipe my mouth.
“I kid. I would never do that. But it’s funny you actually believe me. I don’t hate you enough to kill you.”
“That shit is not funny.”
“Then why am I laughing?”
Who is this new Gia? Because I don’t recognize this woman. It’s like she’s flipped a light switch. At work, she’s gloomy and quiet, but here, she’s funny and happy. She studies me while I eat the food as she nibbles on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. I’ve never seen her smile, and it’s as beautiful as staring at the stars. Once I finish the meal, I scoop crumbs to the edge of the table into my hand and rub my hands together over the plate. Rainbow grabs the plate and dumps it in the dishwasher along with the rest of the dishes.
“Where did you learn how to cook like this?” I ask as she taps the button on the dishwasher. It hums to life, then she ambles over and plops down on the leather stool next to me, crossing her legs, pulling her socks over her knees.
“Food Network and Pinterest. I didn’t have, um ... anyone to teach me how to cook growing up.”
