17. Ethan
The doorbell rouses me from my work just after noon. I wait for a few moments, but since I don’t know if Cassidy will take it upon herself to answer my door, I go downstairs.
I woke up clear-minded, energized, and I hardly believe it, but almost hopeful. Did Myles know how cathartic his gift would be?
But I still need to sell this house, and one thing I’m certain of is that Cassidy has been generously compensated for her time with me. I might as well make the most of it.
Cassidy’s voice meets me halfway up the last flight of stairs, so I stop to listen.
“Has he paid for all of this?” she asks. “Oh, good.” She giggles. “Thought the asshole was expecting me to pay.”
The delivery guy murmurs something, and they have a good laugh about it.
I stride down the stairs, carried on the wings of a furious, inexplicable jealousy. The asshat of a delivery guy is close to Cassidy’s age, with a tanned face and the kind of smile I’d like to wipe off with my fist.
“Is this everything?” I growl out, sweeping my eyes over the three bags of groceries.
“Uh, y-yes, Mr. R-Remington,” the delivery guy stammers, before getting hold of himself. “Would you like to review my?—”
“I’d like you to get the fuck off my property.”
Cassidy looks up at me with shock, and even the delivery guy seems frozen in place for a moment before he ducks his head and hurries back to his van.
The front door rattles when I slam it closed.
“He was just doing his job,” Cassidy mutters.
“I don’t pay delivery drivers to flirt with the help.”
“The help?” Her voice is several decibels higher than usual. I won’t address the fact that the way she spoke to the delivery guy was vastly nicer than she’s ever addressed me.
“Put these away.” My surly tone doesn’t go unnoticed—Cassidy puts her hands on her hips and glares daggers into my back as I head to the stairs. I pause, waiting for her to get moving, but she just stands there. “Go on. I need the first floor finished today.”
“Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!”
I give her a faint smile.
Something about it makes the fierceness in her eyes fade to unease.
I turn and stride back up to her. She stiffens, but refuses to give way as I advance, even as I stop barely two inches from her and she has to crane her neck to look up at me.
The urge to grab her neck makes my fingertips pulse, but the longer I can keep myself from touching her, the better it will be when I finally do. Plus, I don’t have time for distractions right now.
“As I’m sure you know, I have an open house on Friday. Your job is to ensure that everything is spotless before then. Do you now have sufficient information to get on your hands and knees and do your fucking job?”
“Right, because you’re selling.” She purses her head, turns her head away. “Then I’d better get a move on, Mr. Remington.” Her voice is low, almost hoarse.
Her response catches me off balance. Is it possible Myles didn’t give her any kind of idea what would happen after she stepped into my home? Or was she expecting to stay longer than Friday?
“I’m not sure what you were told, but I’m leaving Friday evening.”
Her eyes narrow. “Leaving?”
“To go back to the city.”
She blinks rapidly, waiting.
“I only need your help until Friday. I’m sorry if there was any confusion?—”
“Do I look confused?” She pins me with a hard stare. “You’ve made it very clear exactly where I stand, Mr. Remington.” She spits out my name like a curse. “Or rather… where I should kneel.”
My jaw clenches like a vise as she grabs the groceries and strides into the kitchen with her head held high. It takes self-control I didn’t know I possess to turn and head upstairs instead of pulling her over my lap and spanking some civility into her.
I guess nothing I taught her last night has sunk in.