Unsuitable

Feeling happier than I have in forever, I hum along to the song that’s been stuck in my head all morning—Gnash’s “I Hate You, I Love You.”

I’m happy because I called Jesse last night, and we talked for ages.

We’re not fixed, not by a long shot, but we’re talking, and that’s more than I had this time yesterday.

Jesse said he’d call me tonight after he got done cleaning the windows at the mini-mart. I’m hoping he’ll let me see him this weekend, but I’m not getting my hopes up too much. I’m just happy that I have this contact with him.

I’m currently on my way to Kas’s office. I have a coffee in one hand and a bag of muffins in the other, which I got from the bakery just by the station. I don’t actually know if Kas likes muffins, but I just want to thank him for yesterday. What says thank-you better than spongy goodness?

I’m choosing to forget about the fact that we almost kissed after our horse ride, and I’m also choosing to forget his reaction…the disgust.

I feel a sting of hurt in my chest.

Okay, so, clearly, I haven’t forgotten entirely. But he helped me so much yesterday. Dropped everything to take me to Jesse. Let me have the afternoon off work.

So what if he thinks I’m not good enough to kiss, that I’m beneath him or whatever?

It doesn’t matter. He helped me get to Jesse, and that’s all I care about.

And it’s a good thing that we didn’t kiss. A kiss would have made things messy and possibly put my job at risk.

I need this job. Now more than ever.

Reaching Kas’s office, I knock on the door.

No answer.

I wonder where he is. He’s nowhere else in the house that I know of. Maybe he’s out running.

Should I go look for him, so I can give them to him? Or I could just put them in his office.

Yeah, I’ll put them in his office. That’ll be a nice surprise for him.

Decision made, I push down on the handle of the door and let myself inside.

His office is pristine, as always. I hardly ever get to clean in here because he doesn’t let me, so I can’t take credit for the cleanliness.

I walk over to his desk and put the bag of muffins and coffee down on it.

I grab his Post-it notes and pen.

KAS,

THANK YOU FOR YESTERDAY.

DAISY

Should I put a kiss?

No, that’d be too weird. Especially after yesterday.

Leaving it as it is, I pull the Post-it from the pad and stick it to the front of the muffin bag.

I’ve just put the pen down when a door to my left opens, and in walks Kas.

His eyes go wide on me. He quickly slams the door shut behind him. “What are you doing in here?” His words are quick and biting.

“I was just leaving a thank-you coffee and muffins. I knocked, but there was no answer.” My eyes go to the door that Kas is standing in front of, like a guard.

Has that door always been there? I don’t remember seeing it before.

“Well, if there’s no answer when you knock at a door, it generally means no one’s there, and you come back later. It’s not a fucking invitation to come on in.” His tone is crass.

It pisses me off.

And I really hate it when he swears at me.

“Seriously?” My eyes drag back to him. “I have to come in rooms in this house to clean them, and they have to be empty for that to happen.”

“Were you coming in here to clean?”

“No, but—”

“But what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” My voice rises an octave.

His eyes widen and then flash to the coffee and bag on his desk. He stares at them for a long moment.

My pulse is thrumming in my neck, and I feel hot.

Very slowly, he brings his eyes back to mine. “Well, you’ve said thank you, and now, you can go.”

I feel stupid.

I don’t know what I expected from bringing him a little thank-you gift. Maybe a smile. A, You didn’t have to. I didn’t expect him to be a wanker.

Why am I surprised?

This is who he is—Kas-hole.

Honestly, I don’t know why I bothered.

Screw him.

I’m about to turn and leave, but my eyes snag on that door he’s still guarding like a sentry.

Why don’t I remember that door? I’ve been in here a handful of times before, and I don’t remember it being there. And doors don’t just magically appear.

I nod my head at the door. “You didn’t show me that room on my tour of this place. Is it a room I need to clean?”

“No,” he snaps, his tone low and dark.

Something has shifted in his expression. He still looks angry, but he also looks…uncomfortable. It’s there in his eyes.

His discomfort pricks my attention because one thing Kas never is, is uncomfortable.

Arrogant? Mean? Angry? A prick? Yes, to all of those things.

But never uncomfortable.

“Okay.” I take a step back. Turning, I pivot on my heel to leave.

His voice hits my back when I reach the door. “My office is off-limits to you now. I don’t want you coming in here. Ever.”

I stop in the open doorway and turn back to him. “Yes, Mr. Matis.” I even curtsy, just to be a bitch.

He frowns. And, with darkness on his face and in his eyes, he turns away from me.

I grab the door handle and start to pull the door closed. But not before I see Kas pull a key from his pocket and put that key in the mystery door to lock it.

An hour later, I’m head in the oven, cleaning it, when I hear footsteps come in the kitchen.

I know it’s Kas by his footfalls.

How sad is that? That I know him by the sound of his steps.

Well, whatever.

I’m still pissed at him. He’s a dick, and I’m ignoring him. I’m not in the mood to be yelled at again.

His presence has reignited my flame of anger, and it’s turned into a raging inferno.

I continue scrubbing the oven clean, probably harder than necessary.

“Daisy,” he says my name softly.

His voice is like a gentle brush of fingers over my skin, which breaks out in goose bumps.

Why does he so easily affect me?

It’s annoying. He’s a knobhead. A big knobhead who yells at me all the time.

Fixing steel into my spine, I ignore my traitorous skin, and I ignore him.

I hear him sigh loudly behind me.

“Daisy…earlier…I acted like a total dick. I’m…sorry.”

What?

My head jerks up with my shock at his apology, and I smack it on the roof of the oven.

“Shit!” I wince. Dropping the cleaning sponge, my rubber glove–covered hand goes immediately to my head.

I pull back out of the oven, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Are you okay?” Kas’s voice comes from close behind me.

“I’m fine,” I huff.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Without looking at him, I walk over to the sink.

I yank the rubber gloves off with more force than necessary. I toss them on the side of the sink and start washing my hands.

He might have said sorry, but I’m still mad, and I think I have a right to be.

Sure, he pays my wages, but that doesn’t give him the right to be an almighty tosser to me ninety percent of the time. It negates all the times he has been nice to me. And his lame-arse sorry resulted in me smacking my head. So, yeah, there’s that as well.

I hear him move, and then he’s standing beside me, his back leaning against the kitchen counter. He curls his hands around the edge.

I don’t look at him. I stay focused on washing my hands, which are already clean. I just need something to do with my hands, or I might do something crazy, like strangle him.

“Daisy…”

I shut off the tap and grab the hand towel from the counter. Walking away, I dry my hands.

I need the distance.

I’m sick of him running hot and cold. I’m tired of being yelled at. And of him treating me with kindness one minute and then treating me like I have the plague the next.

Sure, he has come in here and apologized for, yet again, being a dickhead. Don’t get me wrong; the apology is a first and a shock. But I’ve had enough of his dickish ways.

The silence between us stretches and drags. I’ve overdried my hands. Now, I’m counting the tiles on the wall.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I toss the towel on the counter and turn around to face him. “Is there something you need me to do?”

That’s it, Daisy. Keep it work-related. Don’t make it personal.

Is it personal?

Kas warily eyes me. Then, he tips his head in the direction of the bag of muffins I brought him, which is now sitting on the center island.

“You can help me eat those.” His words are soft but ineffective.

“No, I’m good. Anything else?”

He stares at me, surprised and also like he’s not sure what to do now.

What did he think was going to happen? That I’d fall at his feet and say, Yes, Kas! Of course I want to help you eat those muffins that I brought you and put in your office before you yelled at me.

Not likely, arsehole.

“Is there something else you need?” I push.

I’m pushing because I want to get out of here and away from him.

His brows draw together in consternation. “No.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve got work to do, so…” I pivot on my heel and make for the door.

“Actually…”

His low tone stops me in my tracks, and I slowly turn to face him.

He pushes off the counter and walks forward, stopping by the island. The look in his eyes makes my heart bang against my rib cage. He leans his hip against the island and folds his arms over his chest. I ignore how good his arms look while stretched over that magnificent chest of his.

Magnificent chest. Have you heard me?

You dislike him, remember, Daisy?

“I changed my mind,” he says. “There is something you can do for me.”

I frown. “What is it?”

“You can accept my fucking apology.”

I laugh.

I actually laugh.

His brows angrily crash together.

Still laughing, I say, “You really need to work on your apologies, Mr. Matis.”

That makes his frown deeper.

Tired of this conversation and him, I turn and start to leave, but he stops me—this time, with a hand on my wrist.

Surprised that he got across the kitchen that quickly, I spin back and find myself staring up into his livid black eyes.

“What are you doing?” I fire at him.

But it’s like he didn’t hear me. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he says low and seething.

Taken aback by his words, I say, “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Then, just like the snap of fingers, I change my mind. “Actually, I do want something from you. I want you to stop yelling at me!” It’s funny I say that because I’m yelling at him right now. “I want you to stop being a wanker to me! I want you to stop running hot and cold with your moods! I want you to treat me like a human being—all the time and not just some of the time! I want—”

I don’t get to finish that sentence. My words are cut off by his mouth.

Because the bastard kisses me.

He actually plants his lips on mine and kisses me.