Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3), стр. 59

"Wait, what?"

"So unless you want to wear something else—"

"But wait, what do you mean they're not ready?"

"I sent them for cleaning," he said.

"But you couldn't have," I protested. "I left them right there folded in the bathroom."

"I know," he said. "I had a service come by and get them."

"But I didn't see you call a service."

"Yeah. Because I called while you were in the shower."

Cripes. He had an answer for everything. And even though he'd been doing me a favor, I was irritated just the same.

By now, the little black dress, the one I'd loved not too long ago, was itching and scraping like crazy – not at my skin, but at my soul.

Why on Earth had I worn the thing at all?

To Chase, I said, "But why would you do that?"

"What, get your clothes cleaned? Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

"Alright. I didn't want your dad to be pissed."

I was staring now. "At you?"

"No. At you."

I studied his face. He looked deadly serious. I asked, "But why would he be mad?"

"You tell me," he said. "You're the one who was afraid to go home to change."

Talk about insulting. "I wasn't afraid. I just didn't want an interrogation, that's all."

"Which you wouldn't get if you lived on your own."

My jaw clenched. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're what? Twenty-five? Don't you think that's a little old to be living with your parents?"

And there he was – the jackass I'd hated from the beginning.

I told him, "Of course, it is. What? You think I don't know that?"

"I don't know," he said. "Do you?"

"Of course, I do. I just told you I do."

"Yeah? So why don't you get your own place?"

Through gritted teeth, I said, "I don't know. Why don't you mind your own business?"

His only reply was a tight shrug that told me exactly nothing.

I glared up at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

He gave me a hard look. "Mind my own business, huh? Like you did in the restaurant?"

Un-freaking-believable. "If you've got a point, I'd just love to hear it."

"Alright." His gaze bored into mine. "You lied. Why?"

I made a sound of disbelief. "Oh, that's rich."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you lied, too."

"The hell I did."

"I don't mean with Angelique," I clarified. "I meant with Ginger and Emory. You told them – or at least you gave them the very strong impression – that you were my boyfriend. How is that not lying?"

His mouth tightened. "So that's a complaint?"

"No. It's not a 'complaint.' You want the truth? I was stupidly grateful. And I still am."

"So what's the problem?"

"I don’t know," I said. "It seems to me, you're the one with a problem. What, you can rescue me, but I can't rescue you?"

His expression only darkened. "I didn't need a rescue."

"Alright, fine. Maybe you didn't need it. But so what? There's no way on Earth I was going to let her call you names and not stick up for you."

"What name?"

"She called you a pig."

"Which I never denied."

"Great," I said. "If I ever rip out anyone's liver, I'll know exactly where to bring it."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Are pigs and hogs the same?"

I threw up my hands. "How should I know? I already told you, we don't have any. And as long as we're 'down on the farm,' I'll tell you exactly why I don't have my own place."

"Great," he said. "I'd love to hear it."

From the look on his face, he wasn't loving anything. Still, I plunged onward. "I don't have my own place because I did have my own place. But then, when I lost my job, I moved back in with my parents to save money, just for a little while, until I found a new job."

"Which you now have."

"If you mean the festival thing, that's not a real job."

He stiffened. "Is that so?"

"Okay, yes, I realize I’m being paid for doing work. And yes, I realize it's a lot of money. But the job will end in what, three months?"

"Give or take."

"So what happens then?"

"I assume you'll find a new job."

"Yeah. Hopefully. But there's no guarantee it will be around here." I sighed. "Even with my job at the bank, do you know how lucky I was to get a job right here in the area?"

"No. Should I know?"

"Well, you're a businessman, aren't you? So you must know the job market here isn't so great, at least not compared to a bigger city."

"So?"

"So, let's say I do move out now. I'll just have to move again in three months." My stomach clenched as I continued. "I don't even know where. I might have to move across the state. Or even across the country."

As I said it, I felt an all-too-familiar pang in my heart. Call me old-fashioned, but I still held out hope that I'd find a job right here in the Bayside area, so I could live near my family.

In front of me, Chase said nothing, but he didn't appear to be any happier with this logic than anything else I'd said over the past few minutes.

My chin jerked upward. "So…are you satisfied?"

When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet. "No."

"Why not?"

He shoved a hand through his hair. "Hell if I know."

"Yeah, well I can totally relate, because I don't know why you're so darn unhappy."

"Who says I'm unhappy?"

"You don't have to say it. I can see it all over your face." Deliberately, I softened my tone. "But you know what? It's pointless to argue." I glanced toward the guest bathroom. "Do you know when my clothes will be done?"

Chase glanced at his watch. "Maybe fifteen minutes, give or take."

With all of the tension between us, it felt like fifteen minutes too long. Still, I tried to look on the bright side. "Perfect. So as long as we've got some time to kill, maybe we should get our story straight."

"What story?"

"Here's the thing…" I hesitated. "I didn't want to bring it up, but as long as we're laying it all out there, Ginger and Emory – they obviously think