Page 5 of Office Hate

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“You walk out of here, and you’re fired,” he threatened in a low voice.

“Guess I am, you asshole,” I muttered under my breath as I walked to my desk and grabbed my purse, lunch, and coffee mug.

Tears streamed down my face as I got into my parents’ Prius, ready to drive back to the house.

Guess I got off early like Mark.

Only I got fired.

And he still had a job.

Pissed, I made an abrupt turn off the main highway and headed toward the seedy bar Amelia and I frequented. It was a short drive, and in under two minutes, I made it to the parking lot, where I parked and cut the engine. In a full-on fury, I climbed out and slammed the door, stomping my heels as I crossed the lot and jerked open the door. Squinting until my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I continued stomping my way to the bar, ready to rage at the bartender and use him or her as my therapist.

“Double,” I announced before the bartender could ask.

The bartender smirked. “Of?”

Could he tell I didn’t do this often? “Wh-whiskey.”

He sighed in annoyance. “What kind of whiskey?”

“Oh well…” I thought about it. “What kinds do you h—”

“She’ll have Maker’s Mark,” came a familiar voice behind me.

With a groan, I turned around to see my nemesis holding a beer and smiling at me like this was the best day of his life.

“Mark,” I said in a chilly voice.

“Olivia,” he deadpanned and then took the seat next to me. “What brings you to this side of town so early in the day?”

I had a vibrant daydream of clocking him in the face with my purse before answering. “If you must know, I chose to quit my job after my boss came on to me…he made it sound like I would get a promotion; you know all I have to do is suck old man dick.”

Mark choked on his next drink and started coughing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No.” My eyes did that watery thing again, which was so not crying! “I mean, I wish I was kidding, so I left, and rather than go to my parents’ house at five announcing my failure as a college graduate, I ended up here, at the dive bar. I’m sure they’d be proud.”

Mark shoved the shot glass into my face. “Drink and forget.”

“Drink and forget.” I lifted the shot and swallowed; it burned down my throat.

I was rummaging through my purse for cash to pay when Mark grabbed my wrist and gently took my purse, setting it on the floor. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, you don’t have—”

“Stay.” His eyes locked on mine with such intensity that my mouth went completely dry. “You’re not the only one who’s unemployed.”

“Wait, what?” I scooted closer as he held up his fingers for two more shots, and then I listened as he talked about his experience at Fancy Fred’s.

“He sounds like a prick,” I said an hour later, tears of laughter running down my cheeks. Yeah, I might be a bit tipsy.

“Right?” Mark lifted his shot glass back, his throat moving as he worked the alcohol down,

I could almost imagine a scenario where a bead of whiskey rolled down that perfect throat, and in an effort to save all mankind from destruction, I offer to remove said drop of whiskey…with my tongue, only to find out that my touch is the only thing needed to save Mark from the zombie apocalypse. Well, that and my body.

All of a sudden, I see hands in front of my face. Mark’s huge hands. “Yo, you literally just spaced out for a solid three minutes.”

“Too much of this.” I jabbed a finger at the shots.

Mark smirked and then unsteadily stood, snatched my keys from the counter, and did something on his cell.

“Gotta pee,” I blurted, then stumbled toward the bathroom feeling like my mind was going to explode. Was I having a panic attack? Was it the alcohol? And why the hell was I smiling at myself in the mirror? I did my business then came back to the bar top almost missing the stool as I plopped down and smiled.

“Heyyyyyy.” I leaned toward him.

“Heyyyyyy.” He copied me. “I’m calling us an Uber, all right?”

“Good idea.” I yawned. “I need a Red Bull. ’Scuse me, sir?” I rapped my knuckles on the countertop. “A Red Bull?”

One came sliding down the bar top. Mark intercepted it, cracked it open, chugged half, then handed it to me.

I grumbled something like germs and then felt my entire body tense up when I put the can to my mouth.

It was almost like kissing him.

What was I thinking?

I hated him!

I did not want to kiss him.

Ever.

I jumped a foot when Mark’s hand came out to the small of my back to steady me. “It’s almost here.”


Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Romance