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Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson
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course I believe you, Mitchell.” She took a tiny taste of what she had on her fork. “You know, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Forget where it came from and try it.”
He left his fork on the table. “You don’t believe me. I can tell. But I grabbed the first excuse that came my way. Then when I was worried that you might be getting involved with Rudy, I decided to use the same tactic to get him to back off.”
“Wait a minute.” She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She’d been willing to cut him some slack, but he’d just managed to hang himself with all that extra rope. “Are you telling me that you
disapprove
of Rudy?”
“Not in general. He’s a great guy, but if you’re talking about hooking up permanently with him, then—”
“Hey! Time out!” Now that she’d sobered up, she didn’t think Rudy was an appropriate boyfriend, either, but she’d defend to the death her right to make that decision for herself. “I don’t know if you’re interested in me or not. You say you’re not, but I can’t think of any other reason why you’re here.”
“I’m here because—”
“But whether you’re interested is not the issue on the table.” She barreled on, pointing her fork full of moose meat at him for emphasis. “You are my grandmother’s personal assistant. You are not in charge of choosing which men are appropriate for me and which are not. End of discussion. If I want to date Rudy—hell, if I want to
marry
Rudy—I will!”
He gazed at her, his expression unreadable. “Are you finished?”
An adrenaline rush made her long to toss the moose-meat pie in his face. But she was sober now, and she couldn’t override years of training in the social graces in order to do it. Besides, the food was actually pretty good. The onions, potatoes, and carrots added a lot to the mix.
Giving herself time to calm down, she took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“If you’ve said your piece, I’d like to say mine.”
“I may not stick around to listen.” But if she left, she was taking her plate with her.
He nodded. “You’re right. You’re your own boss. I can’t choose your dates or your husband. And you’re also worth a hell of a lot of money.”
“That’s not important to me.” She speared a potato wedge and popped it into her mouth.
“Meaning you plan to take no responsibility for it? Because that’s the message I’ve been getting for weeks, and I need to know if that’s the case.”
Well, damn. He had her by the short hairs, now. He was coming off as Mr. Reasonable and Responsible, while she was coming off as Ms. Spoiled Brat who didn’t appreciate the privileged position she’d been given and didn’t want to have any obligations as a result.
She did appreciate it. Because of Grammy’s generosity, she had the financial freedom to pursue any career she wanted, or no career at all. She’d chosen wildlife photography, and she had the money to stay in Alaska for as long as she wanted while she took pictures and learned her craft. Most people would have to juggle that with a day job. She didn’t have to.
Swallowing her food, she looked at him. “I don’t intend to waste the opportunities available to me. You know, you should really dig in, Mitchell. This isn’t half bad.”
“What would you do if I decided to quit?”
She abandoned her food and launched into fullblown panic mode. “Are you considering it?” Oh, God, what if her rejection had wounded him to the point that he wanted nothing to do with her or Grammy’s estate? She’d counted on the fact that Mitchell liked his job, but maybe she’d just taken all the joy right out of it.
“Never mind whether I’m considering it. What would you do?”
She’d have to find a new Mitchell. And she wasn’t sure they were all that thick on the ground. He was loyal and conscientious. She’d never for a minute doubted his integrity, and that was pretty damned important.
He left his fork on the table. “You don’t believe me. I can tell. But I grabbed the first excuse that came my way. Then when I was worried that you might be getting involved with Rudy, I decided to use the same tactic to get him to back off.”
“Wait a minute.” She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She’d been willing to cut him some slack, but he’d just managed to hang himself with all that extra rope. “Are you telling me that you
disapprove
of Rudy?”
“Not in general. He’s a great guy, but if you’re talking about hooking up permanently with him, then—”
“Hey! Time out!” Now that she’d sobered up, she didn’t think Rudy was an appropriate boyfriend, either, but she’d defend to the death her right to make that decision for herself. “I don’t know if you’re interested in me or not. You say you’re not, but I can’t think of any other reason why you’re here.”
“I’m here because—”
“But whether you’re interested is not the issue on the table.” She barreled on, pointing her fork full of moose meat at him for emphasis. “You are my grandmother’s personal assistant. You are not in charge of choosing which men are appropriate for me and which are not. End of discussion. If I want to date Rudy—hell, if I want to
marry
Rudy—I will!”
He gazed at her, his expression unreadable. “Are you finished?”
An adrenaline rush made her long to toss the moose-meat pie in his face. But she was sober now, and she couldn’t override years of training in the social graces in order to do it. Besides, the food was actually pretty good. The onions, potatoes, and carrots added a lot to the mix.
Giving herself time to calm down, she took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“If you’ve said your piece, I’d like to say mine.”
“I may not stick around to listen.” But if she left, she was taking her plate with her.
He nodded. “You’re right. You’re your own boss. I can’t choose your dates or your husband. And you’re also worth a hell of a lot of money.”
“That’s not important to me.” She speared a potato wedge and popped it into her mouth.
“Meaning you plan to take no responsibility for it? Because that’s the message I’ve been getting for weeks, and I need to know if that’s the case.”
Well, damn. He had her by the short hairs, now. He was coming off as Mr. Reasonable and Responsible, while she was coming off as Ms. Spoiled Brat who didn’t appreciate the privileged position she’d been given and didn’t want to have any obligations as a result.
She did appreciate it. Because of Grammy’s generosity, she had the financial freedom to pursue any career she wanted, or no career at all. She’d chosen wildlife photography, and she had the money to stay in Alaska for as long as she wanted while she took pictures and learned her craft. Most people would have to juggle that with a day job. She didn’t have to.
Swallowing her food, she looked at him. “I don’t intend to waste the opportunities available to me. You know, you should really dig in, Mitchell. This isn’t half bad.”
“What would you do if I decided to quit?”
She abandoned her food and launched into fullblown panic mode. “Are you considering it?” Oh, God, what if her rejection had wounded him to the point that he wanted nothing to do with her or Grammy’s estate? She’d counted on the fact that Mitchell liked his job, but maybe she’d just taken all the joy right out of it.
“Never mind whether I’m considering it. What would you do?”
She’d have to find a new Mitchell. And she wasn’t sure they were all that thick on the ground. He was loyal and conscientious. She’d never for a minute doubted his integrity, and that was pretty damned important.
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