Up to Date (Better Date than Never Book 8) by Susan Hatler Read Free Book Online

rose and he smirked. “Did I just get shot down again? When I wasn’t even present to defend myself?”
    I glared at Mary Ann, who had the decency to appear apologetic.
    “I’m afraid you did.” Mary Ann clasped her hands together. “But, if it counts for anything, I was rooting for you.”
    “Thanks.” He held his fist out and they bumped knuckles as if they’d known each other for years. Were they ganging up on me?
    “No problem.” She tossed me a quick look. “I assume this menial labor fulfills my rent obligation. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m going to run downstairs and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
    I stared after her, unable to believe her nerve. I also wondered how much of our conversation Greg had overheard.
    “I’m sorry about that,” I said, stepping down from the ladder. “You hired me to do a job and I thought Mary Ann could help. Clearly, I should’ve known better.”
    His brows came together. “I just realized . . . Ginger and Mary Ann, like from Gilligan’s Island .”
    I let out a small laugh. “My parents are huge fans of the show. Mary Ann and I spent much of our childhood pondering what we’d do to survive if stranded on a deserted tropical island. I actually wouldn’t mind putting her on one now.”
    Greg chuckled. “Since she’s your painting assistant, I’m not sure that would be practical.”
    Practical. Yes, I needed to stay reasonable, which would include not talking about not dating my client because he might overhear me. Oh, dumbness.
    Mew. Mew.
    I bent down and cooed at Greg’s little kitten, who’d wandered in. “Careful, buddy, or you’ll get paint on you. And, trust me, you’re not going to want to lick that off.”
    Greg squatted down and scooped him up. “I’m naming him The Skipper.”
    My brows came together and I peered at Greg. “You mean ‘Skipper,’ right? Because ‘The Skipper’ sounds like you’re naming him after Gilligan’s Island . . .”
    He grinned.
    My mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
    Mew . Mew.
    “See?” He scratched the kitten behind his ears. “The Skipper likes his new name.”
    Oh, my . . .! This guy was infuriating . . . and intoxicating.
    I stood, snatched my paint roller off the tray, then climbed the ladder. My heart pounded in my chest as I rolled it across the wall with way more force than necessary. He wasn’t helping me keep my emotional distance by naming his cat The Skipper. That man was just so frustrating . Then I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Greg painting the other wall. The den door was closed and The Skipper must have been put outside because he was nowhere in sight.
    Oh, no. Now I’d started thinking of the kitten as The Skipper. Argh!
    I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    He looked quizzically at his roller. “Painting, of course.”
    “Why?” I mashed my lips together. “You paid for a service. The client doesn’t help the professional do her job.”
    The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’re cute when you’re stubborn. And I hate to tell you this, but the professional does whatever the client wants. Within reason.” He shot me an intense look that made me wonder what else he wanted me to do.
    I shivered, then rallied, letting out an exasperated breath as he continued painting again. “I’m used to working alone, Greg. It’s easier that way.”
    He turned over his shoulder, and shot me a meaningful look. “Brace yourself. You’re about to see how much better life can be with a partner.”
    Whipping my head back around, I attacked the wall with a vengeance. I had an out-of-control, crazy client. That’s the only possible explanation. I mean, The Skipper? How could he name his kitten that? It was so mind-boggling. So out of line. And so freaking cute .
    No, I needed to calm down. Think rationally. Life was less stressful when I only had to worry about myself. I’d decorate the rest of his rooms, Jenna would take