Hard by Eve Jagger

his skin radiate through my thin dress.
    A minute ago I would have liquefied from the heat. Now it just fuels
my fire.
    “It was a joke,” he says.
    “Sure it was,” I say. “Unless I agreed. And then
it’s just a business deal, right?”
    He raises an eyebrow, pulling himself toward me. “Pretty fun
business we’re in, then.”
    I slap him. Not hard enough to leave a mark. Certainly not even close
to as hard as I’m sure he’s been hit in the boxing
ring—or the bedroom, probably.
    But it’s hard enough to get his attention. He puts his hand to
his cheek, his mouth slightly open, but mercifully silent. His eyes
are big, like he can’t believe what just happened and honestly,
I’m not sure I can either. I mean, I’m not a violent
person, but I’ve been in violent situations—and I know if
you’re going to give someone a smack, you better be ready to
receive one, too.
    But Ryder doesn’t retaliate. He doesn’t even seem upset.
His gaze never moves away from me, but there’s a look of
amusement in it, like he’s on the cusp of smiling or laughing.
    Probably just another hilarious joke that I don’t get.
    I walk out of the office, content to have something as
straightforward as numbers to focus on for the rest of the day.
That’s what I like about math. The rules don’t change.
You always know where things stand.
    If only everything could be that simple.

 
    CASSIE
     

CH. 14
     
    That Monday evening just before I leave for the day, Ryder walks by
as Cash leans over my laptop next to me at the side of the bar,
verifying an invoice for one of our alcohol distributors. “Make
sure you get those numbers right, Cash,” Ryder says. “Cassie’s
got a mean right hook, and she’s not afraid to use it.”
    “What’s he talking about?” Cash says when Ryder
disappears down the hallway into his office.
    “He’s just being a jackass,” I say, rolling my
eyes.
    “Am I sensing a lovers’ quarrel here?”
    “Now what are you talking about?” I say, willing
the blush I can feel blooming on my face to abort.
    “I’m just saying, Ryder never spends that long with me or
Jackson in the office,” Cash says. “Of course, all we do
is discuss business back there.”
    “What are you suggesting Ryder and I did?”
    “Whoa, Cass,” he says, throwing up his hands. “It’s
Monday. I like to start the week PG.”
    “You are a child,” I say.
    “I know you are,” he says, walking into the kitchen,
dimples dimpling, “but what am I?”
    Between Ryder trying to talk to me and Cash teasing me about him like
we’re in junior high school, the rest of the work week is an
exercise in mitigating annoyance, except for Shelby’s visit on
Friday around lunch.
    “Thought I’d stop in and say hi to my big brother,”
she says, sitting next to me, plopping down her black leather Marc
Jacobs tote on the bar. “I was meeting a client for lunch down
the street.”
    Cash told me Shelby works in marketing for the Atlanta Falcons, and
at only twenty-four, she’s already been promoted from assistant
to manager. At twenty-four, I was closing down my family’s
lucrative auto shop to follow Sebastian to England when the London
branch of the investment bank he worked for suddenly decided to call
him back home. It’s funny how people can do the same age, the
same point in life, so completely differently.
    “I haven’t seen Jackson today,” I say.
    “Well, I guess I’ll say hi to you instead then.”
She smiles, and gives me a nudge with her shoulder. “Hi.”
    “Hiya.”
    “I’m into the new hair.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Looks like someone else is into it, too,” she says,
nodding over my shoulder at Ryder, who glances at us through the
kitchen window behind the bar. “He keeps looking over here.”
    “I seriously doubt he’s looking at my hair.”
    “He is a guy, isn’t he?” she says. “He’s
probably just trying to get a good look at your tits,” she
says. I laugh—something I realize I haven’t done