“I live here,” I answer honestly, disliking her immensely.
She laughs, a spiteful laugh that has me bristling, “You live here? Please.” Rolling her eyes, she looks me up and down.
Before I can reply I see Jackson come in, he takes in the scene, looking shocked to find his ex standing in his home.
“Leanne, what the hell are you doing here?” he asks, putting his briefcase down and looking at her in irritation. I’m secretly relieved that he doesn’t seem pleased to see her.
“I came to see you. I’ve missed you. I thought we could get some dinner and talk,” she says, in a sickly-sweet voice that has me wanting to throw up in my mouth.
Jackson looks both uncomfortable and annoyed. “You can’t just let yourself into my home. I thought you said you left me the key card. I’m going to need that back.”
“You’re kidding, right? And who the hell is she? She thinks she lives here!” She laughs, her tone mocking, flicking her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder.
“She does,” Jackson answers simply, walking over to the cupboard to get himself a glass.
“What do you mean, she does? You can’t have another woman living with you, Jackson. I won’t allow it,” she says, hands on her hips, in full-on tantrum mode. Wow, this woman is something else.
“Leanne, we broke up. I don’t care what you’ll allow. This is my home. You cannot barge in unannounced.” His patience is evidently wearing thin and you’d think she’d take the hint. But apparently, she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.
She waves her hand dismissively, “Jackson, baby. We break up all the time. But we always sort it out.”
“Not this time. I told you we were done, Leanne. I meant it,” he says calmly, filling his glass with filtered water from the fridge.
“Are you screwing her?” she demands, incredulous. Her tone is so high I’m sure there are dogs with their ears pricking up. I’m torn between leaving them to their awkward quarrel or standing my ground, this is my home too after all.
“Leanne! That’s enough. Do not make me call security. I want you to leave now. Mia and I are about to have dinner.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
She looks flabbergasted, and I try really hard not to laugh. Serves her right, the stuck-up cow.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it, other than sheer dislike of this woman, but I walk over to Jackson and slide my arm around his waist.
“It’ll be ready in twenty minutes, baby,” I say, looking up at him with a sweet smile. He may be shocked but he catches on to my game pretty quickly, smiling down at me.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says kissing my head and squeezing me into his side. I try to ignore how nice it feels to have his hands on me.
Leanne looks like she’s swallowed something unpleasant and storms out of the suite, slamming the door as she goes.
I giggle once she’s gone and move away from Jackson. Grabbing the oven gloves, I walk over to the oven and open the door. The food needs another five minutes, so I push it back inside and close the door again, dropping the gloves on the counter.
“I’m sorry, I know that was immature and completely unprofessional, but she was so rude to me, I couldn’t help myself,” I say, as I grab myself a glass of water.
“No need to apologise. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I had no idea she still had her key card. I’ll be having the lock reset tomorrow.” He sits at the breakfast bar and sips his water.
“She seemed lovely.” I laugh, looking over my shoulder at him as I get a couple of plates out of the cupboard.
Laughing, he says, “She’s an acquired taste.”
“Uh huh, I’m sure,” I say, laughing. I get the lasagne out of the oven and start to dish up. Jackson comes over and grabs some cutlery from one of the drawers and goes to set the table. It feels oddly domestic, but not weird.
Carrying the plates over to the table where he is sat, I place his down in front of him. His eyes light up. “This looks incredible.”
I smile, “Thanks, it’s one of my favourites. Let me grab the garlic bread. Did you want a drink of anything?”
“A beer would be great, thanks,” he says, grabbing the pepper and adding a sprinkle to the top of his plate.
Walking over to the fridge, I grab him a bottle of beer, pick up the plate of garlic bread and head back to the table.
“You don’t need to wait, dig in!” I say, handing him his beer before sitting down and putting the garlic bread between us. I don’t need to tell him twice. He dives right in with a smile on his face and it makes me grin. It’s nice to feel appreciated.
Hearing him groan, I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s just lasagne.”
“It’s like heaven in my mouth!” he says, eagerly shovelling another forkful into his mouth. I smile, loving that he is enjoying it that much. Taking a bite of my own, I sigh in happiness. It’s been too long since I’ve made this, preferring to spend my money on cheaper, quicker meals while living at the motel.
“So how was your day? Ignoring the Ex-Asaurus-Rex,” I ask and he snorts.
“Ex-Asaurus-Rex?” He grins in amusement, looking over at me.
“No offence but she seemed like a bit of a dinosaur. You know, grumpy and not good with people,” I offer before taking another bite of my garlic bread. He’s not wrong; it is good!
Laughing again, he says, “My day was good. I got plenty done and agreed on a price for a piece of land I want to develop a hotel on.”
“Fancy. And here’s me thinking that making homemade coffee and walnut cake was an achievement.” I joke, grabbing some more garlic bread.
“You made coffee and walnut cake?” he asks, his head perking up at the thought.
“Yep. An after-dinner treat.” I smile.
“I love cake,” he says, through a mouthful of lasagne.
“I should hope so! I try not to associate myself with people who don’t appreciate cake and it’s many benefits,” I say, smiling.
“Benefits?” he asks, looking up at me with laughter in his eyes. I like this playful side of him. He’s fun to be around.
“Yeah, it’s good for your soul. Good for your energy levels. Good for your libido.”
Choking on a piece of garlic bread, he laughs. “Your libido?”
“Yep. You’re telling me that you haven’t eaten cake after sex and wanted to go again?” I ask, straight faced. I love cake. Not sure if that’s coming across, but I do.
Laughing, he leans back in his chair, and I look at him and smile. He really is a good-looking man. Add in that deep, rumble of a laugh and if he were a cake, I’d devour him in one sitting.
“I’ve never heard that before,” he says, once he finishes chuckling. Reaching for his beer, he takes a swig.
“You’ve never had cake after sex?” I ask, scandalised by this new information. The poor man hasn’t lived.
“Can’t say I have.” He laughs, looking at me. “But now I think I need to give it a try.”
Not sure whether it is all this talk about cake, or the sexy glint in his eye, but I can feel arousal pulsing through my body. Smiling, I get back to eating my lasagne. Flirting with my boss is a very bad idea.