Page 14 of Best Kind of Trouble
Eyes bright with anger, she replies, “You don’t know anything about my relationship with my father.”
“Nope. But can we both agree that he’s an even bigger asshole than me?”
Surprised laughter gushes out of her, causing her hair to dance around her face, and she lifts one of her hands to her lips in wonder—as if it’s the first time she’s ever laughed. I remember what that hand felt like in mine, small and soft. Too small for the gloves I’m carrying, but they’re the closest the gym’s got.
Her laughter has faded, but her face still wears the imprint of it. Her brown eyes are warmer now, and her cheeks are flushed from coming in from the cold. She looks…
Nope, not going there. It doesn’t matter how she looks. She’s going to be my boss, and while learning from past experience isn’t my strong suit, Hannah has made it clear our truce is toast if I touch another of her friends.
There are billions of women in the world, and most of them don’t know Hannah exists. It shouldn’t be a hard rule to follow.
I focus my gaze just beyond Briar, on one of the heavy bags hanging from the ceiling. My finger drops to my wrist, and I snap the elastic band I keep there for refocusing my attention.
“I shouldn’t have laughed,” she says with a soft smile. “He’s…well, I wouldn’t call him an asshole. He’d say one of his strengths is thinking beyond others’ feelings. It’s part of his recipe for success.”
I snort. “Sounds like the kind of thing an asshole would say.”
“You’d know, I suppose, but there’s no arguing with success.”
I shrug, finally looking back at her. “Sure. Seems to me he’s so successful his whole staff quit, and he passed the brewery on to you so it wouldn’t make him look bad.”
“It’s not like that,” she says earnestly, taking a step toward me.
I take a step back on reflex, and her cheeks get pinker.
“I wasn’t going to, like, throw myself at you. I just…” Her blush deepens. “Oh, I’m making a horrible impression.”
“I don’t make a practice of caring what people think of me. Couldn’t recommend it more.”
“Ihaveto care what people think of me,” she says, folding her arms. They form a shelf for her perfectly shaped?—
Look away, you idiot.
I focus on the heavy bag behind her again. “No, you really don’t. If someone doesn’t like you, fuck ’em. Why waste any energy on a person who doesn’t like you?”
“I’m going to be the boss,” she says. “I have to care what people think of me.”
I snort again. “You think your father gives two shits whatanyonethinks of him? He’s so unlikeable a brewery full of people just quit on him. And no offense, Princess, but if all this energy you’ve put into being likeable were working, they wouldn’t have walked out on you either.”
I let myself focus on her then. Her features have hardened, and her chin is pointed up. Good. If she’s going to succeed in this industry, she needs to learn to look and act tough.
“Maybe I don’t likeyou,” she says.
“That’s fine. As we’ve established, I don’t give a shit. Hannah asked me to work for you, not become your new best friend.”
Her pretty pink lips fall open.
If Hannah were here, she’d laugh and say,Making friends, Liam?
“Now, are you going to hit something or not?” I ask.
“I have half a mind to hit you.”
I grin at her. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She scowls at me and then pads closer. For a second, I think she’s going to round up and punch me in the chest. It would be kind of cute if she tried, and I wouldn’t hold it against her. We could both agree I’d deserved it. Instead, she snatches the gloves from me.
I hold back a smile as she pulls them on.
