Chapter One
Scarlett
“Fuck, you are never drinking absinthe again. That shit has fucked you up in a way your man will give me hell over for months,” I say to Harlow as she stumbles through the back door of Trilogy, one of Storm’s restaurants I work in.
She grins at me. “Scott’s getting lucky when I get home. He’s not gonna give you hell for anything.” Her words are one long slur. Girl is wasted as fuck and she doesn’t even know it. Her husband is the president of Storm and giving me hell is one of his favourite things to do.
“I’m never saying yes to you again when you beg me to take you out.”
That damn grin of hers only grows bigger. “Keep on grumbling, Scar. It’s what I adore about you. But maybe just stop for one minute and let me go to the toilet, okay?”
“You go to the toilet. I have to get this shit done for Wilder before he comes in.” He asked me to check some supplies this afternoon. Trilogy has a few events coming up, so he wants to make sure our stock levels aren’t low. I bloody forgot, which is unlike me, and remembered about half an hour ago. I dragged Harlow from the bar we were at, where she was downing shots of absinthe like lolly water, to Trilogy so I could get this job done before I see Wilder tomorrow. No one needs that man on their case, and certainly not me. He’s on my case enough as it is.
“Wilder’s not here,” Harlow says. “I told you, he’s at my place tonight with the boys.”
She did tell me that, but I know Wilder, and he’ll be in here soon. He’s always in here.
“I’m not taking any risks, Harlow, and I’m not stopping for your toilet break. I’ll be out in the storeroom when you’re done.”
Without waiting for her response, I head to the storeroom and get to work checking the stock levels.
Exactly like I’d predicted when Wilder asked me to do this stocktake, I confirm that we’re not running low on anything. Of course he didn’t listen this afternoon when I told him I was sure we were good. The man never listens to me. And fucking hell, checking stock levels is his favourite thing to do. Well, his favourite thing for me to bloody do, so there’s a lot of not listening that goes on around here.
I’m almost finished the job when Harlow lurches into the room with “So it seems you know Wilder better than me.”
I frown. Harlow is friends with him; I am not. There’s no way I know him better than her. The only things I know about Wilder are that he’s a bossy boss and that he likes country music, which, can we just agree, is the absolute worst kind of music on this planet. Like, when he’s got it on in his office, hand me a gun so I can put myself out of my misery. Also, I know he loves his damn football. He never shuts up about it. I know far more about the Brisbane Broncos than any woman should have to know.
When I don’t say anything, Harlow jerks her head towards the storeroom door. “He just turned up.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, my hands working faster to get this count done. No way am I letting him know I forgot to do this today.
“You want me to help?” Harlow says, moving next to me and trying to assist. She’s so drunk, though, that she drops the bundle of napkins she picks up. “Shit.” She bends to scoop them up, and as she leans over, she knocks her head on a shelf, letting out a string of complaints as the pain hits.
“Has anyone ever told you that you suck at holding your liquor?” I take hold of her shoulders and direct her to sit on the floor. “Just sit there and don’t move. I’m almost done here.”
She pouts up at me. “I don’t suck at holding my liquor.”
“You really do.”
“Well, has anyone told you that you suck at being nice to drunk girls?”
Honestly, Harlow’s the only person I know who says shit that doesn’t piss me off. We argue all the time, and yet I don’t want to punch her. Ever. And that’s a damn miracle because I pretty much want to punch everyone I know at some point.
Before I can reply to her question about me sucking at being nice, a deep voice sounds from the doorway. “You two just decided to have a party for two in here tonight?”
My eyes cut to the door, landing on Wilder, who’s resting against the doorjamb with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. I can’t stand that expression of his. Like, don’t come at me all amused and shit when I don’t know what’s amusing about me.
I purse my lips as I stare at him. “Do you ever take a night off?”
He pushes off from the door and walks towards us, those muscles of his flexing in all the ways I wish they wouldn’t. The man might irritate the fuck out of me, but I’m still a girl who appreciates muscles and ink, and hell if he doesn’t have it all going on. Possibly, that irritates me the most about him. He should be overweight with pasty white skin that’s never seen ink. That’d work a whole lot better for me.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks when he reaches us.
Before I can make some shit up, Harlow pipes up, “Doing the stocktake Scarlett forgot to do this afternoon.”
I could kill her.
Wilder’s amused expression returns. “I see.”
Ugh. He and I had a disagreement yesterday that centred around my memory. He tried to tell me I’ve been forgetting to do things lately. I argued back that I have a perfect memory. Screw him for being right and double screw him for getting this kind of confirmation.
I’m definitely killing Harlow.
“You see nothing,” I snap and turn back to my counting.
He chuckles, which confuses me. Wilder never laughs around me. Mostly he sighs a lot and appears frustrated by everything. Actually, come to think of it, he seems a lot more relaxed than he ever is around me. Everyone thinks Wilder’s an easy-going guy, but I can’t say I’ve ever thought that about him.
“Oh, you have no idea what I see, Scarlett,” he says.
Turning back to him, I say, “Are you drunk?”
His lips spread out in a grin. “I’ve had a few drinks, but that doesn’t mean I’ll forget this moment.” He leans closer to me. “My memory is great.”
“Fuck off.” He might be my boss, but we’re not on the clock right now.
He chuckles again. “You do remember I’m your boss, right?”
“That is something I’ll never forget.”
“Good.”
Harlow takes this moment to stand and interrupt us with, “When are you two gonna get your shit together?”
Wilder looks at her, confused. “Huh?”
She shakes her head like he’s the biggest idiot she knows. Then, waggling her finger between us, she says, “This.”
“This what?” Wilder asks, still wearing confusion like a second skin.
“Just ignore her,” I say. I know exactly what she’s going on about because she’s mentioned it to me before. She thinks Wilder and I have chemistry or some shit. She’s mistaken. All we have is a whole lot of annoyance with each other. The man drives me fucking crazy. The kind of crazy where I’m actually concerned for his life some days.
“You two are made for each other,” Harlow says.
Wilder’s eyes go wide. It almost makes me want to laugh, but I don’t do laughter. Except, right now, I actually could laugh at him. He looks like Harlow just said the strangest thing he’s ever heard.
He glances at me for a second before looking back at her. “You say the oddest shit sometimes, Harlow.”
I nod. It’s maybe the first time I’ve ever agreed with him in the year and a half I’ve known him. “I told you, ignore her.”
Harlow waves us off dismissively. “I know what I see, and I see you two together. And I’d really like to see that before I die, okay, so get your shit together or I might have to do it for you.”
With that, she walks away from us and exits the storeroom, leaving Wilder and I staring after her.
“Jesus,” he says, eyeing me. “She’s lost the plot.”
I nod, agreeing with him for a second time. That annoys me, so I snap, “Yeah, now do you think you could leave me in peace so I can get this job done and go home?”
The look of frustration I know so well appears in his eyes. “Yeah, and do you think you could leave your attitude at home tomorrow? We’ve got a lot on, and I don’t need you in my face arguing with me over every damn thing.”
“Of course, I live to serve you, master.” Asshole.
“Clearly,” he mutters before leaving me.
My traitorous eyes drop to his ass as he exits the room. I’ll be having words with them later. Just like I’ll be having words with Harlow. She needs to stop with this bullshit about me and Wilder. We are not made for each other.
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