the same. “I am betting that Sam will return in less than three months and make up for her theft. As a show of faith, I offer myself as collateral. You need an assistant. I’ll work off Sam’s debt.”
He’s outright gaping now. “Let me get this straight. You want to be my assistant?”
“I don’t want to be,” I say, calmly pretending sweat isn’t running down my back. “But I will, if you—”
“That isn’t enough.” His body might as well be carved out of granite for all he moves now. But his eyes, they are alive with irritation. “We are talking about a three-hundred-thousand-dollar loss. Of something highly sentimental.”
I get it. He wants blood. I would, too, if I’m honest.
I lick my dry lips. “I’ll be your personal chef as well.” When he tries to speak, I hurry on. “Top assistants make around one hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand a year. Personal executive chefs can earn up to a hundred and fifty thousand as well.”
“One year of work would equate to three hundred thousand dollars. You’re saying she’ll return in under three months.”
Damn, he is correct.
“If she doesn’t return, I’ll stay on for one year.”
It sure as hell will spill my proverbial blood to work for Macon. But if it keeps my fragile family safe, I can do it. I can survive a year with Macon. Besides, I know Sam will come back before then. Whether she’ll have the watch is another matter. I push that fear aside and hold his gaze.
For a moment he says nothing. But then a snarl rumbles in his chest. And he flops back in his seat as if trying to put as much physical distance between us as possible.
Macon rubs a hand roughly over his stubble, and for once, I see some true emotion color his cheeks. “What the hell, Delilah? We have a history of tearing into each other given the slightest provocation, and yet you jump right into indentured servitude. Have you lost your mind? Or do you simply enjoy playing the martyr when it comes to Sam?”
“Playing the martyr?” I sound screechy. I know I do. I just can’t seem to stop it.
He winces like I’m hurting his ears. “You seem hell bent to take on Sam’s sins yet again.”
My hands curl into fists. “I’ve never defended Sam.”
“Don’t give me that offended-innocence act. You were always stepping in and covering for Sam. Or turning a blind eye to her antics.”
Despite my best effort, my nostrils flare with a huff of breath. “I never turned a blind eye—”
“Oh, yes you did.” His lip curls in a sneer. “She’s much worse than you give her credit for.”
“Then aren’t you the fool to have hired her?”
“Touché, Tot.” He smiles thinly. “It was foolish. And it’s the last time I feel sorry for Sam. You, however, I trusted to know better than this.”
“Well, lucky me.”
He glares. “You’re still annoying, though.”
“And you’re still an ass canal.”
With a blink, he bursts out laughing. The sound of his laughter is so jovial my lips quirk in response. I bite down on them hard.
Macon’s laugh dies as quickly as it was born. “This is a shit deal for you, Tot. I don’t understand why you’d offer.”
Because I have lost my mind. Because I can’t think of anything else to offer. But I can’t tell him any of that. “Sam is my sister. Family takes care of family.”
“Try telling Sam that.”
Keep it together, Dee. “Look, I can either pay you back slowly, or you accept my offer.”
“Neither option is really appealing.”
“But you’re considering it.” I can tell that much. It’s in the way his expression has shifted from irritated to thoughtful. Oh, butter still won’t melt in his mouth, but he isn’t throwing me out.
Macon turns his head to stare out the window. “I am.” He snorts under his breath. “I must be insane.”
“Join the club,” I mutter.
His head snaps back around. Dark eyes pin me to my seat. “I could make your life hell.”
“You don’t even sound ashamed of the prospect.”
“I’m not. You’re the one who is here pleading I take you on instead of holding Sam accountable.”
My back teeth meet with a click. I haven’t spoken to this man in ten years, and already I’m arguing with him more than I have with anyone else since. Even my fights with Sam don’t have this back-and-forth. She doesn’t call me out as much as attack. Macon makes me own every word.