He smirks and stands. “Of course.”
Before he can walk away, Kelsey adds, “And I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.”
Breaker pats her on the shoulder and says, “I understand the need to not be attached by name to him. I wish I wasn’t either.”
Wow, what a brother.
He takes off and closes the door behind him. I turn my attention to Kelsey, who closes the distance between us and takes a seat in the chair Breaker just vacated.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask her.
“After last night, I figured we need to talk about how to handle this.”
“Handle what?” I pause and tilt my head to the side. “Oh, hell, did you fall in love with me last night and now you’re trying to figure out how to muddle through work while harboring these intense feelings about me?”
Her face falls flat only for her top lip to curl into a sneer. “If any revelation happened last night, it most certainly had nothing to do with love and everything to do with this extreme distaste I have for you.”
“Ooh, distaste. That’s a new one.” I lean my forearms on my desk. “Please do elaborate.”
“This isn’t funny, JP.”
“Didn’t know I was laughing.”
Her eyes narrow and she speaks through clenched teeth. “You don’t have to laugh in order to make a laughing matter out of something that’s incredibly serious.”
I pick up a pen off my very untidy desk, a desk that I know drives Kelsey nuts. The tension in her expression is from our conversation, but the death grip she has on the chair’s armrests is undoubtedly from the rumpled reports on my desk, the askew pen jar that’s tipped over, and the unconventional way I have my computer tilted.
“Okay, tell me why our situation is incredibly serious, because unless I missed something, nothing, and I mean nothing, happened between us last night. Well, nothing that requires this level of psychosis.”
“JP, we went on a date last night.”
“Not by our choice.” I click the pen open and then shut.
“But it still happened. We shared an intense meal, and then after, when we were leaving, you said . . . you said some things.”
“Oh . . . the whole ‘If you were in my bed, your cunt would be begging for my cock’ part?”
She swallows, her cheeks heating. “Yes, that part.”
“It was just basic facts. Nothing to make note of.”
“Well”—she smooths her hands over her well-pressed, possibly steamed, skirt—“it was inappropriate, and we need to set some ground rules here.”
“This should be good.” I lace my hands together behind my head and say, “Lay it on me—what are the ground rules?”
“Well, for one—”
“Real quick, I just need to put this out there—your reaction is completely ridiculous and over the top, but you know, to each their own. Your feelings are your feelings . . . all that bullshit.” I gesture to her. “You may proceed.”
Her nostrils flare, and I realize it’s a small tick of hers when she’s upset. “As I was saying, our first ground rule is we don’t speak of last night, ever. I didn’t tell Lottie and I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else.”
“Am I that repulsive?”
“Yes.”
I chuckle because I thought she was going to say no to that and come up with some long-winded explanation, but got to give the girl credit for her honesty.
“I also don’t want people thinking I get involved with any man who crosses my path or that I’m trying to climb the corporate ladder by spreading my legs.”
“Don’t worry, your sister covered that one.”
Her eyes narrow and she points her finger. “That was not how that went down and you know it.”
“You’re right, that was uncalled for. Sorry.” If anyone pursued that relationship, it was Huxley, because he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off Lottie.
My apology seems to satisfy her because she continues, “So we don’t talk about last night, ever. Act like it never happened.”
“I wish it didn’t.” I smile at her, which only makes her grind her teeth together. Jesus, talk about uptight. Could she relax for like a second?
“JP, I need you to say you’re never going to talk about it.”
“Christ.” I roll my eyes. “I’m never going to talk about it.”
That appeases the gremlin inside her.