Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother #4) - Lisa Helen Gray Page 0,32
man.
“You aren’t my boss here, so don’t make me punch you.”
“Violent too,” he taunts, raising his eyebrows.
That is it.
“I don’t steal their treats—Well, I do, but only because I don’t want to hear them moaning the next day because they’ve lost a tooth, that their sugar is too high, or that their IBS is flaring up.”
“Well aren’t you the giver.”
“Jesus, you’re an arsehole outside of work too.”
“You work together?” Hope asks, stepping into the room with a clipboard tucked to her chest.
I’m still staring up at Clayton when my eyes widen in disbelief.
Why!
Why, after years of the best kept secret in my family, does Clayton walk in and ruin it after five minutes.
He’s purposely turning my world upside down.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My future flashes before my eyes. All I can picture or hear is my dad’s reaction. He will go on and on about how my job sent him into early retirement, and how it traumatised him for life.
Oh God.
My family will come to me for advice and I’ll have to listen to them.
I’ll be dead within a month.
I have to get out of this.
“What?” My laugh sounds foreign, forced, even to my own ears. “He’s not my boss. He’s a—”
A hand covering my mouth mutes the excuse I was just about to come up with.
“Oh no you don’t,” Clayton barks. “I don’t know what preposterous excuse you were about to come up with, but I want no involvement this time.”
I shove his hand off my mouth and take a step back, affronted—even if he is right. “I wasn’t—” at the reprimanding expression, I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “Okay, I was.”
“Um, what is going on?” Hope asks, her voice soft, concerned.
Facing her, I can’t help but take in her white blonde hair, smooth pale skin and sharp green eyes. She is the spit of her mother and just as beautiful. What has taken me some time to get used to is seeing her in the blue tunic. I’m proud of how far she has come, and the uniform is a reminder of what she had accomplished. Before she got her nursing degree, she wore a white tunic like mine.
She’s watching, waiting for answers, and I can’t lie to her. She’s one of my best friends.
“You cannot tell anyone, including Ciara and Ashton. I mean it,” I warn her.
“Oh my God, do you really work as a spy for the government?” she whispers, rushing further into the room.
That’s actually pretty cool. Why have I never thought of that?
“I d—”
“She works for me at a radio/podcast station, giving love and sex advice to women,” Clayton interrupts, pointedly watching me.
At a quick glance, I thought Hope was processing it, but looking closer, her shoulders are shaking. I jump when she bursts into laughter.
She takes us both in before laughing even harder. And it continues. And continues.
Punching Clayton lightly in the arm, I release my fury on him. “You’ve broken her.”
“No, I didn’t,” he fires back. “You should have been honest with her.”
“Why would you tell her?” I yell, throwing my hands up. I’m trying so hard not to strangle him. Even drunk out of my mind I’ve not let it slip about what I do for a living. That I know of anyway. And in one moment he may as well have had my whole family in and told them.
“Why would you not?” he asks, stepping away when I slap him again. “Will you stop slapping me.”
I grit my teeth. “If I wanted them to know about my occupation, I would have told them myself. Now my life is over. Over, Clayton!”
“Now you’re just being dramatic. Stop acting so crazy.”
“Crazy?” I grit out, taking a step towards him. He has the sense to take one back, his body tensing. “You’ve not seen crazy. My family is crazy. And you’ve just set them upon me. My dad is going to be insufferable for months, acting like I’m the one who traumatised him when we all know he brings it on himself. I’m going to be the person they come to for advice.”
I step back, taking a deep breath.
“Um…”
I step forward, poking him in the chest. ‘And do not act all snotty with me either. You did something I asked you not to do.”
“Oh my gosh, he’s serious,” Hope interrupts, her voice low, disbelieving.
That’s when I notice the entire room is silent. Uncomfortably so.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I warn her, desperation leaking into my voice.
“But you give people advice on relationships?” she asks for clarification.