Diary of a Bad Boy(17)

Finally, she lifts those bright blue, soul-searing eyes at me and says, “You could still stand to be more professional.”

Jesus Christ.

Foster laughs out loud and pats Sutton on the back. “That’s my girl. Raised with sweet southern charm.”

Is that what society is calling retched witches now? Ladies with sweet southern charm? I beg to differ.

“And as much fun as I’m having watching you two spar, I need to go. But before I take off, I want both of you to know I spoke with Whitney and since I vouched as your sponsor, Roark, I’ve set up a way to meet all your community service requirements while helping me out as well.”

I glance at Sutton whose mind looks like it’s whirling a mile a minute, and before Foster can tell me what the plans are, she reaches out to him. “Dad, no.”

“Sutton Grace.”

“Please, Dad. I never ask you for anything, but please don’t do this.”

“You asked me last week for tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert.”

I snort—loudly—which in returns grants me an evil eye from Sutton.

“Only because you were taking pictures with him at a game. I wasn’t entirely serious.”

Entirely . . . nice way of putting it.

“But seriously, Dad, I can’t work with this man.”

Work with me? Hold on a second. “Work with her?” I ask, pointing at the woman in question.

“Yes, you two will be working together on the Gaining Goals camp down at the ranch.”

Sutton groans and I sit up straighter. “Down at the ranch? What does that mean?”

“It means you’re going to be spending some time in Texas.”

“Texas?”

“Yup, Texas.” Foster stands and puts on his suit jacket while staring at the both of us. “I think it will do you both some good to get to know each other. The best way to shape our lives and add more culture to it is learning to understand others who might not be like us.” He turns toward me and with a stern look says, “Don’t let me down, Roark. You owe me this.”

Fucking hell. Way to lay the guilt on thick. Although, he is right. I do owe Foster Green, as he did step in where others may have not. Shit.

Leaning down, he places a kiss on Sutton’s head and then shakes my hand. “I’ve got the tab,” he says before leaving us in our stunned and speechless state.

Texas? Working with Sutton? Working for free? Seems like Foster just set up my own personal hell.

When I look at Sutton, she’s staring at me, worry and anger in her eyes. Before I can say anything, she says, “We have to get out of this.”

How the young live in the clouds.

I might spend my days with a bottle in my hand, but I also know reality when it smacks me across the dick, and Foster Green just pulled down my pants and handed me a hefty dose of dick smacking. I heard finality in his voice. His mind is set, and there is no way either one of us are going to get out of our predicament without losing a valuable part of our jobs.

“It’s cute how delusional you are.” I fold my hands over my stomach.

“You don’t have to be a condescending ass,” she counters, wincing with the swear word. I shouldn’t find that adorable, but unfortunately I do.

“Just telling you like it is. There is no way in hell your father is going to change his mind on this, so you better figure out a way we can work together without really having to work together.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, sounding curious.

“You’re the planner of the event. Just give me a task that grants me a shit ton of hours and lots and lots of miles away from you.”

Hand on her hip, she says, “I can hardly see why you want to be away from me. It’s not like I’ve done anything to you. You’re the one who’s kept my phone hostage.”

“Yeah, and because of that, I’ve learned all your annoying tendencies, and I would like to stay as far away from them as possible.”

She shakes her head in disbelief and stands from her chair. “You really are something else, Roark McCool.”

“Why thank ya, lass.” I smile proudly.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Eh, I took it as one.”

Fuming, she walks over to me and pulls on my sleeve. I swat her away, but she pulls on it again. “What the hell are ya doin’?”

“Encouraging you to stand. We’re getting my phone, now.”

“That’s what you call encouraging? If you wanted to encourage me to stand, you would have held a bottle of whiskey between your tits, and I would be at your beck and call.”

“Oh my God.” She pulls her jacket close together. “Don’t be so crude.”

“Just giving you a little lesson on Roark, that’s all.” I stand, feeling heavier by the second. Cursing the mac and cheese, I swing my coat over my shoulders and punch my arms through the holes. Looks like I’ll be doing some goddamn cardio tonight, the devil’s chore.

“I don’t need a lesson. I need to make this as painless as possible.” She secures her purse over her shoulder and pulls me by the jacket out of the restaurant and onto the chilly street.

“Christ,” I mutter, buttoning up my jacket.

“Okay, take me to my phone.”