Diary of a Bad Boy(25)
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“It’s my nature, lass. It’s what I do.” I nod at her. “Now get your arse out of my bed; I have to get to work, and I’m betting you do too.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, what time is it?”
I flick my eyes down to my watch and then take another sip of my coffee. “Quarter past nine.”
“What?” Frantically she springs out of bed and starts running around the room gathering things. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Do I look like your goddamn alarm clock? Not my responsibility.”
“I can’t believe I slept in.” Slipping on her shoes but fumbling terribly, I hold back the smile I’m sure would grant me a kick straight to the crotch. “What kind of trickery do you have in that bed?”
Amused, I ask, “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s like you had a sleeping potion in it or something.”
“It’s called money, Sutton. It buys you sleep.”
She glances at me. “Not true, some of the richest people have insomnia.”
“Then they’re not doing it right.”
Although, I barely got any sleep last night, because good old ostrich-ass-in-the-air was in the other room, fucking with my head. But I won’t mention that to her.
Finishing with her last shoe, she stands, grabs her purse, and starts walking out the door when I clear my throat and nod toward the nightstand when she looks at me. “Forgetting something?”
She spots the phone and groans. “This contraption. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this damn thing.”
Clearly not in the best mood—I don’t think she’s a morning person—she stomps through my penthouse but stutter steps when she sees the kitchen island. Turning back around, she gives me a quizzical look.
“Did you make breakfast for me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I ordered some shit from the place across the street. Feel free to take something to go.”
Yeah, I might have gotten something specifically for her.
“There’s huevos rancheros in there.” I point to the top to-go box. “You know, since you’re from Texas.”
“That’s my favorite.” She reaches for the box and gives me a grateful look, which quickly turns into a snarl. “Oh no, you don’t. Don’t try to be nice to me now. That ship has sailed. Niceties were thrown out the window the minute you took my phone hostage and missed our first scheduled meeting.”
“Not trying to be nice.” I leave my empty cup on the counter. My housekeeper will get it later. “Just don’t want you bitching to your dad about what a bad host I was.”
I walk toward the elevator and she follows, food to go in hand along with a cup of coffee I might have gotten her as well.
“Oh, we won’t be telling my dad about this. He doesn’t need to know.”
I press the down button on the elevator. “I don’t lie to my clients.”
“This isn’t lying; this is just not talking about it. That’s all.”
“Eh.” I shrug. “I would rather tell him.” The elevator opens and I walk in, tossing my jacket over my shoulders. She follows in quickly, a little huff in her step.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“Because it drives you crazy.” I toss a grin in her direction that she practically spits back with her eyes.
“Seriously, don’t tell my dad.”
“Too late, I already sent him a text this morning.”
Eyes even wider than before, she says, “No, you didn’t. What did he say? Did you really tell him?”
“Told me he couldn’t have picked a better guy to court his daughter. Said he always thought we would be great together. Oh, by the way, he thinks we’re dating.”
I’m pretty sure fire shoots out of her ears when she screeches, “What? Why would he think that?”
“According to the Old Testament, if you sleep in my house, that means we’re dating.”
“The Old Testament? Are you drunk?”
“I wish I was.”
The elevator doors open and I start walking away when she catches up to me and pins me with her hand to my chest. For being such a little thing, she sure packs a big punch.
“Does he really think we’re dating?”
I grin. “Nah. I didn’t tell him anything, but seeing your reaction was so worth it.” I give her a pat on the arm, feeling rather chipper now and say, “Have a good day, Sutton.”
And with that, I take off out of my apartment building and flag down a taxi, leaving a very irritable Sutton Grace behind me. For the first time in my life, I’m leaving my apartment with a smile on my face—because that little spitfire is so goddamn fun to tease.
Sutton: We need to get together.
Roark: It’s been two hours. You really can’t be away from me for that long? #clinger
Sutton: I’m not a clinger! We have to get together to talk about your community service.
Roark: Nah, I’m good.
Sutton: I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.
Roark: Aren’t you a fucking treat.