41. Nick
FORTY-ONE
NICK
“Goddamnit,” I mutter as I pull the pan with the burned garlic off the burner. It’s my second batch in the last few minutes.
Callum looks up from his phone where he’s sitting at the counter and sniffs pointedly. “Is that supposed to smell like that?”
I send him an annoyed glare. “I know you’re as incompetent as they come at feeding yourself, but even you should be able to figure out that it’s not.”
Instead of getting annoyed at me for being an asshole to him for no reason at all, he grins and tuts. “Somebody’s in a dick mood.”
I slap the pan down and clench my jaw for a moment, fingers squeezing the edge of the counter. “You do know you pay me, so you don’t have to spend time in your kitchen, right? So why are you here again?”
“You were the one who stomped into my home and started demolishing my kitchen. Loudly, I might add. I’m supposed to be getting my beauty sleep right now.”
“You pay me to cook for you. So here I am. Cooking for you.”
“Usually when you do it you’re marginally less hostile. Aren’t you supposed to cook with love, and it’ll be evident in the taste?”
“Hate is spice, so unless you want your food to taste bland, stop nagging.”
He zips his lips and goes back to his phone while I take the next bulb of garlic and slap it onto the chopping board.
“Any specific reason for this temper tantrum?” Callum asks as he keeps scrolling.
I send him an annoyed glare. “I don’t know. Why don’t you take a guess?”
“Could it be my new employee?” he asks. “Dia warned me you’d be a little bitch about it. Her words.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it. You need a new PA.”
He raises his brows at me while I studiously ignore him and concentrate on the fucking garlic.
“I was under the impression that had been taken care of for me.”
I avoid his gaze even harder.
“It didn’t work out.”
He doesn’t say anything about that, but I can feel his eyes on me. I’m off balance from last night’s encounter with Blue, so it grates. I slap the knife down and push the chopping board away.
“Just say whatever you’re about to say.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I need a PA,” he says.
“No, you don’t. You’ve been fighting the PA thing since Dia quit and took the job with the ART.”
He shrugs. “Yeah. And then I remembered I find the idea of other people doing boring things for me appealing. Besides, it’s what adults do, you know? They listen to reason and base their decisions on that.”
“You’re a professional athlete. That’s pretty much a shortcut to never having to grow up.”
He tilts his head. “Somebody’s bitter. Is it my overwhelming success that gets to you? People can’t all be as handsome and rich as me.”
I toss the cloves of garlic his way.
“Your aim is shit,” he says.
“Just be glad it wasn’t the knife.”
I lean against the counter and blow out a breath while I rub the back of my neck. I’ve felt like my muscles have been carved out of stone since the moment my eyes landed on Blue in the subway station. They’re that tense.
“I can’t fire him,” Callum says. “I owe Bridget. She’s the best agent I ever had. Plus, I’m a little scared of her.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s harsh. I thought we were friends.”
“You can’t hire him. Fucking anybody else, but not him.”
It’s a dick move. I acknowledge that. But I can’t have him here.
Callum studies me silently for a bit but eventually he shakes his head on an exhale. “Fine. But when Bridget comes for me I’m going to use you as a human shield.”
I nod in acknowledgment.
I got what I wanted.
It’s done.
So why do I feel like shit about it?