her unravel. Then she’d get the message that I wasn’t someone she wanted to fuck with.
Unless we were referring to literal fucking and then… Not going there.
“Pardon me.” She lifted her phone and typed into it. “I’ll make a note to help me remember. Originally, I thought I’d be working this project alone, so I hope you can keep up.”
Her wince threw me off, her face dropping immediately afterword, as if I’d already disappointed her. Talk about being all over the place. “I mean…” She cleared her throat, swept her hair over her shoulder, and lifted her chin like the hoity-toity princess she was. “Team dismissed.”
Everyone else filtered out of the room, and I slowly pushed to my feet. Penelope tucked her files and laptop under one arm and tugged at her black jacket as though it was a bulletproof vest.
I rebuttoned the lower button on my own sports jacket and then placed my hands on the shiny conference room table. “So, we meet again.”
“I…” She pursed her pouty lips, and I needed to stop looking at her mouth in order to remain as stern and professional as this situation called for. “A rather obvious statement. One we don’t have time for.” She tossed a purple folder in front of me, and I grinned at the label. She’d written san diego pythons in glittery silver ink.
“Ooh, shiny lettering,” I said, and the folder was yanked out of my hand so quickly that the thick edges sliced the insides of my fingers. If I didn’t have a paper cut or five, it’d be a miracle. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” Her voice pitched a couple octaves higher. “Big surprise, you stroll in late without bothering to do any research yourself and immediately mock the organization system I use, when I’m only attempting to catch you up on a project that I’d happily take on myself. Next up, you’ll accuse me of being emotional or dramatic simply because I expect you to put in effort. I’ve worked with a dozen guys just like you, Mr. York, so let’s just skip this song and dance and get our shit done. Mm-kay?” Again, with the forehead crinkle. “And that last question was rhetorical, so…yeah.”
“Mr. York? For someone who couldn’t remember my first name, sounds like something stuck.”
“Yes, and it’s the stick you have up your ass after I declined your offer to buy me a drink. Get over it. I brought in these clients and plan to blow them away with the blueprints I’ve been working up. I don’t need someone mansplaining my job to me, either, so save it.”
In an attempt to redirect, I held up my hands in the classic I-surrender stance. “I’m just here to do the job I was hired to do. As for the bar… obviously, I never would’ve hit on you had I known we’d end up working together.”
“Good to know you were planning on the hump and dump method.”
“Good to know you’re the serious relationship type.”
Once again, those pearly pink lips parted, so shimmery the overhead lights made them sparkle. “I never said anything about wanting a relationship, but I definitely pegged you right.”
“Had there been any pegging, you wouldn’t be so uptight right now.”
Anger flashed in those blue eyes, the same way it had back at the bar, and now would be the perfect time to remind myself that I liked sweeter, uncomplicated women. Not the showy ones who cared more about attracting attention, the way my own mother longed to do. With each husband Mom had married younger, and much more of a gap and she’d be fishing for dudes in fraternities while muttering all her namastes.
Another point against the woman fuming across from me. I veer away from relationships that’d be inappropriate.
On that point, I’d crossed the line with that pegging remark, and I opened my mouth to apologize. Any second the words would come out. Saying I’d done anything wrong was akin to admitting defeat, and I’d never been any good at either.
“I’m not going to stand here and let you insult me just because I crushed your fragile little ego the other night,” Penelope said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll email you the documents, notes, and other pertinent information I have on the client. Then you can organize it however you like—I’m guessing it’ll be something super unique like a manilla folder and a scrawled label no one else can read.” With that razor sharp retort delivered, she