Read Online Barely Yours by Charlotte Eve - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte Eve
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hint of sarcasm that only someone who knows her would pick up on. “We were having a great time. Bruce was explaining to me ...”
“Enough, enough,” I say. “You don’t need to tell me about Bruce. I’ve heard it all before. I’ll take him off your hands. Come on, old man. Time to get thrashed at pool.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Bruce laughs. “And I think you’ll find it’s you who’s about to get the thrashing ...”
As he makes his way out of the room, he turns to shoot a strange glance back at Chrissie, who’s still sitting at the kitchen table.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” he says in a low suggestive tone. And if it wasn’t before, it’s obvious now that Chrissie has really caught his eye.
§
As always, women are never far from Bruce’s mind, and as I rack up the first frame, he immediately begins to quiz me about Chrissie.
“So,” he begins, as he lines up his cue to break, “you must be going out of your head with a hot young thing like that living under your roof!”
He slams the cue into the white, which in turn scatters the balls impressively – potting a couple of reds in the process.
“She’s my daughter’s nanny, Bruce,” I reply with a sigh. “An employee. I don’t think of her like that.”
At this, Bruce looks up from his next shot and shakes his head. “You’re inscrutable,” he grins. “Anyone else but you and I wouldn’t believe it. But you always do things by the book.”
I don’t answer, just raise my eyebrows in response, as I stand to take my shot, slamming the cue hard into the white, aiming for a yellow by the top corner pocket but missing by a fraction of an inch.
God damn it.
“So this nanny, this employee, ” Bruce persists. “Any boyfriends sniffing about?”
He takes his shot, potting another red and setting himself up perfectly for his next shot.
“You mean, is she available? Is that what you’re asking?” I reply a little coldly.
Bruce pauses, lines up his cue, then slams the white into his chosen ball in another perfect shot, sending it flying into the far corner pocket.
“Yes, is she single? Is she available? Can I ask her out?” he grins back.
I’m about to say yes. After all, she’s nothing to me, is she? But even so, something gives me pause. The idea of Bruce’s hands on her. His lips on hers. I just don’t like it. Could it be that I’m ... jealous? But that’s absurd. You can’t be jealous if your friend wants to get involved with someone you have absolutely no interest in whatsoever. And I’m not interested in her. I have to keep telling myself that to extinguish any remaining flames of feeling that might bubble up inside me. I have to scrub all memories of that night, that kiss, the feel of her body against mine, from my mind.
“Sure,” I say after a slight hesitation. “Knock yourself out. She’s a nice girl. And I reckon she could probably do with a date or two, anyway. I’ll give you her number.”
I stand to take my next shot, lining my cue behind the white, aiming for a plant. But again, my calculations aren’t quite correct, and I end up fouling, knocking Bruce’s last red into the centre pocket.
“Cheers, old chap,” he says, as he steps in, hardly even lining his cue up as he breezily slams the black into the left corner pocket, winning the game.
How dare he! The slimy entitled bastard. Just who does he think he is? Just because he’s my boss, doesn’t mean he fucking owns me. Doesn’t mean he can pass me onto his friends less than a fucking week after discarding me.
Okay, sorry about all the swearing, but I hope you understand. Because right now I am mad.
I mean, only met Will’s friend Bruce for five minutes that night, and without even checking with me that it’s okay, Will has obviously given him my fucking number. What the hell?
I pace up and down the room in anger and frustration, before sighing and flopping back down on the bed to look
“Enough, enough,” I say. “You don’t need to tell me about Bruce. I’ve heard it all before. I’ll take him off your hands. Come on, old man. Time to get thrashed at pool.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Bruce laughs. “And I think you’ll find it’s you who’s about to get the thrashing ...”
As he makes his way out of the room, he turns to shoot a strange glance back at Chrissie, who’s still sitting at the kitchen table.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” he says in a low suggestive tone. And if it wasn’t before, it’s obvious now that Chrissie has really caught his eye.
§
As always, women are never far from Bruce’s mind, and as I rack up the first frame, he immediately begins to quiz me about Chrissie.
“So,” he begins, as he lines up his cue to break, “you must be going out of your head with a hot young thing like that living under your roof!”
He slams the cue into the white, which in turn scatters the balls impressively – potting a couple of reds in the process.
“She’s my daughter’s nanny, Bruce,” I reply with a sigh. “An employee. I don’t think of her like that.”
At this, Bruce looks up from his next shot and shakes his head. “You’re inscrutable,” he grins. “Anyone else but you and I wouldn’t believe it. But you always do things by the book.”
I don’t answer, just raise my eyebrows in response, as I stand to take my shot, slamming the cue hard into the white, aiming for a yellow by the top corner pocket but missing by a fraction of an inch.
God damn it.
“So this nanny, this employee, ” Bruce persists. “Any boyfriends sniffing about?”
He takes his shot, potting another red and setting himself up perfectly for his next shot.
“You mean, is she available? Is that what you’re asking?” I reply a little coldly.
Bruce pauses, lines up his cue, then slams the white into his chosen ball in another perfect shot, sending it flying into the far corner pocket.
“Yes, is she single? Is she available? Can I ask her out?” he grins back.
I’m about to say yes. After all, she’s nothing to me, is she? But even so, something gives me pause. The idea of Bruce’s hands on her. His lips on hers. I just don’t like it. Could it be that I’m ... jealous? But that’s absurd. You can’t be jealous if your friend wants to get involved with someone you have absolutely no interest in whatsoever. And I’m not interested in her. I have to keep telling myself that to extinguish any remaining flames of feeling that might bubble up inside me. I have to scrub all memories of that night, that kiss, the feel of her body against mine, from my mind.
“Sure,” I say after a slight hesitation. “Knock yourself out. She’s a nice girl. And I reckon she could probably do with a date or two, anyway. I’ll give you her number.”
I stand to take my next shot, lining my cue behind the white, aiming for a plant. But again, my calculations aren’t quite correct, and I end up fouling, knocking Bruce’s last red into the centre pocket.
“Cheers, old chap,” he says, as he steps in, hardly even lining his cue up as he breezily slams the black into the left corner pocket, winning the game.
How dare he! The slimy entitled bastard. Just who does he think he is? Just because he’s my boss, doesn’t mean he fucking owns me. Doesn’t mean he can pass me onto his friends less than a fucking week after discarding me.
Okay, sorry about all the swearing, but I hope you understand. Because right now I am mad.
I mean, only met Will’s friend Bruce for five minutes that night, and without even checking with me that it’s okay, Will has obviously given him my fucking number. What the hell?
I pace up and down the room in anger and frustration, before sighing and flopping back down on the bed to look
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