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At Lumpy’s little yip of excitement, I looked down and covered my mouth with a finger. “Shh!” I whispered. “Do you want us to get caught?”
I could have sworn he understood me, because he turned and looked at the kitchen’s doorway, raising his ears slightly like he was listening closely to make sure no one was coming.
“Good boy,” I crooned quietly when he looked back up at me with those big, round chocolaty eyes. “You keep quiet and I’ll give you all the treats.” Just to show him I was a woman of my word, I pulled another piece of thinly sliced chicken from the deli bag I’d found in one of the fridge’s drawers. That was the fifth slice I’d given sweet Lumpy since I spotted Clay’s name written on one side of the bag in black permanent marker.
As far as I was concerned, he totally deserved it. “Is that good chicken?” I cooed, smiling wide when Lumpy’s tail began swishing back and forth across the floor like a hyper little bunny. “Yeah. I bet it is. I bet your daddy spent a pretty penny, getting that from the butcher instead of the sandwich meat section like a regular person.” I pulled out another slice and tossed it up so Lumpy could chomp it midair. Next I was going to teach him how to balance a treat on his nose before catching it.
“Serves him right for making me clean out the stupid fridge.”
I’d been with Morrison Construction for three days, and as I suspected, Clay was going out of his way to make my job miserable. There hadn’t been another blowup like the insanely tense scene in Callum’s empty office, however that didn’t mean he was taking it easy on me. Because he absolutely wasn’t.
But I wasn’t going to let him see how much he was getting to me. The more I swallowed down my snide comments or bit my cheek until it bled to keep from calling him every vile curse in the history of the human word, the angrier he seemed to get. For some reason, it felt like he wanted me to fight back. So I wouldn’t give him that luxury. It was childish, pushing his buttons like that, but I was giving myself that little rebellion.
ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE SERIES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That’s why God created central air, after all.
Jessica is the mother of a perfect little boy–she refuses to accept that he inherited her attitude and sarcastic nature no matter what her husband says.
In addition to being a wife and mom, she’s also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books–romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it’s a passion…there’s a difference. Not that she’d expect a boy to understand.
Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.
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