Giving In To Love (Strong Brothers 2)

"No quick come back to that question?" he asked, as we reached my car.

"Well, to be honest, Hunter. I'm a little bit disappointed that you have stooped to misogynistic sexual innuendo. I thought you were smarter than that."

He stopped short and blinked. If I wasn’t mistaken, his expression was less about my calling him out on his sexist comment, and more about embarrassment, maybe even shame, at having gone there.

Then I must've gone mad. I don't know what came over me. I was looking at Hunter. When he wasn't talking, he was a specimen of perfection. Tall, broad, sexy, and fierce. And despite what I said, he actually was fun to banter with. As I waited there to see what he might say, I could feel in my body, the anticipation of it. The excitement of it. The titillation of it. And that must've been the reason why I did what I did. I reached over, grabbed his tie, and yanked him down to me pressing my lips against his. It was meant to be the final word. But as my lips touched his, I immediately determined that I had gotten in over my head with him. His lips were soft yet firm. His breath was a mixture of coffee and mint. The small groan at the back of his throat made me want to rip our clothes off and see what would happen next.

His tongue ran along the seam of my lips and on their own accord, they parted to let him in. And that's when all the fireworks began going off it, not just in my brain, but in my bloodstream. It was like sparks were flying everywhere.

As heady and exciting as it was, it was also extremely dangerous. I don't know where I found the strength but somewhere I did. I tore my lips away and pushed back. I immediately got into my car and didn't look at him once as I started the engine, and pulled out of the parking spot. As I headed toward home, I couldn't help but wonder, in our little exchange, who actually did get the last word.

All that afternoon, I worked to push the kiss I gave to Hunter out of my head. Odds were that my attempt to have the last word backfired. He'd probably forgotten it almost as soon as it happened. No doubt, he was off finding his next conquest. Men like Hunter Strong didn't like women like me. He was like a caveman who wanted a docile, long-legged blonde-haired woman who would let him have his way with her. I wasn't ugly, but I was too mouthy and too quirky for someone who liked quote-unquote traditional and classic.

To fully get the interview and Hunter Strong out of my head, I changed into my oversized pair of overalls and a tank top, and used a headband to pull my hair back from my face, and then I went to my artist studio to work. The word studio had to be used loosely as it was basically a corner in the apartment. It was the corner that got the most light, making it an ideal spot.

Turning my attention to the work at hand, I pushed everything else away immersing myself into the colors and textures of my latest work.

I was so lost in my art that I lost track of time. I only came to at the knock at the door. Checking m

y watch, I saw that it was nearly dinnertime.

"Just a minute," I called as I set my brush down.

I went to the door, opening it and was surprised to see Kellie there.

She held up a pink bakery bag. "I brought you a cupcake from Melinda’s. I thought we could celebrate your interview today."

I wondered if she knew something I didn't. Or maybe she hadn't heard how disastrous it had gone. But I opened the door to let her in taking the cupcake as she passed me by. I didn't want to give her a chance to take it back once I told her the truth about the interview.

She walked over to the studio corner to look at my latest work. “Wow, that's turning out so nice," she said.

"Thank you." I brought the cupcake into the kitchen. "You want some wine or coffee or something?"

"A glass of wine would be nice." She came into the kitchen sitting at the tiny little table. For many years, we lived here and often ate here together. We also had some pretty intense conversations with each other as we helped each other navigate through life.

"So, tell me about the interview," she said as I pulled two wine glasses out and poured chilled white wine into each.

I brought the glasses to the table, setting one in front of her. "There's not much to tell. Except that it went very badly."

Her brows furrowed together and she cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean it went badly?"

"I'm not sure if you realize this or not, but Hunter Strong is an asshole."

"Oh, what did you do?"

"Me?" I pressed my hand over my chest for emphasis. Why did she assume that I was the one that messed it all up?

"Tell me what happened," she said, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip.

"I went in looking professional, at least for me. I was prepared to be serious in the interview, which I was. He showed me some of the work they'd already started on the campaign, and then he asked me if I could finish it. To which, I honestly said no."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Why would you say no? The whole reason you were there was to help complete this campaign."

I gaped at her. "Have you seen it? Has Ryan seen it? I can't believe that either of you would think that what they had was what would work in Europe."

"Well, maybe instead of offending Hunter, you could have gently suggested some alternatives."

I stared at her for a moment as I worked to keep my hurt feelings in check. Why was she defending him? "Tell me, is Ryan having the same conversation with Hunter? I mean, he essentially called me a loser and untalented because I wasn't selling any of my work. And then he basically called me mouthy and made a vulgar suggestion about a better way to put my mouth to work."