Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1)

by Jaqueline Snowe

  “I won't right now, but I will later. Thank you, Logan. This is nice. I'm so out of my league, and I feel ridiculous.” I held his room key tightly in my hand, like he would try and escape if I didn’t keep a hard grasp on it.

  “Give me your number. I'll text you, and if you are totally screwed, let me know. I'll come back and help you out.”

  We exchanged numbers, and I sighed in relief knowing I had some sort of ally there. I did not understand what the hell had happened and wasn't sure if I wanted to figure it out. People needed to treat each other with respect. Screw this.

  I went to Logan’s room on the second floor and knocked. If Chris was in there, I would explain the situation and hopefully figure out where Brock was, and they could switch roommates. I waited, heart racing. We’d chatted a handful of times, but he was still all sorts of scary. Footsteps approached the door, and my heart sped up. Chris opened the door and gave me a friendly smile.

  “Hey, Gracie. Logan texted me you'd be by. You all right?” He leaned against the frame, not quite letting me in but not shutting me out. I sighed and fought the urge to cry in frustration. It felt like I was being bullied for no damn reason. It was like high school mean girls but worse. Mean boys were stupid. Especially when I’d thought things had changed.

  “I have nowhere to stay tonight. Logan offered up his bed. Can I stay here? You can stay in the room with Brock. I don't know where he went, and I'm tired as hell and roomless,” I rambled, words bleeding into each other. Then, another thought occurred to me. “Is Brock okay? He took off, and I'm beginning to worry maybe something happened to him.”

  A look of regret came over Chris’ face. He looked down before pushing open the door further. Brock was sitting at the desk, totally fine. The momentary concern I had for him flew out the damn door. It would be so much better if he had an accident or something. But this, downright ignoring me? That was a new low for him.

  He seemed real relaxed watching TV, and my mind went two places at that moment. I wanted to tackle him while punching him in the face. Then, the other part went to how uncomfortable confrontation was for me. My palms sweat, my heart raced, and my eyes stung with tears purely induced from anger. I froze, unsure and awkward.

  “Uh, want to come in?” Chris asked with hesitation. I stood there, speechless, waiting to see what Brock would do. He still hadn’t looked up, and that pissed me off more. He had to know it was me. I made up my mind—I walked right by Chris and up to Brock. His only reaction was a quick intake of breath.

  I fumed. The anger and sexual frustration combined into a dangerous place in my mind, and I smacked my fist on top of the desk. My voice reached an icy level, one I didn’t know I had. “You are such an asshole. You couldn’t text me back? Give me a room key? I waited hours for you to come back or text me. I have no way of getting back in there. Why? Tell. Me. Why.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the action. It would look endearing to anyone who wasn’t fuming mad at him. I jutted my chin out, shaking my head. “Fine. You don’t want to be an adult? Then either get out, so I can crash here, or give me a key.”

  He scanned my body, lingering a little too long on my legs, but I didn’t react to it. My anger took over every emotion. Then, slowly, he slid a room key out of his pocket and handed it to me without saying a damn word. I yanked it and marched out of the room with a quick goodbye to Chris.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I arrived at my original hotel room and put the chain on the door. Brock could stay with Chris; I didn’t care. Remembering Logan, I sent him a quick text saying I was fine. He had to have known he was there, but I let go of my annoyance. Whenever I felt sad or frustrated in the past, I would take a shower— a long, incredibly hot, and steamy shower. I would think about everything, weigh the positives of my life and only focus on those. Because life was full of disappointments if you chose to look at only the negative. It was hard, but finding the positives made all the difference.

  Positives—this amazing internship, the networking, and pay.

  The negatives—Brock. Brock Anderson.

  I was ten minutes into the shower when a loud, disruptive banging scared me. It sounded like someone was fixing the air conditioning unit right outside my room. I ignored it. Then, it happened again, louder. I stopped the water, peeking my head out of the curtain. It was coming from the hallway.

  “Grace. Open the damn door right now.”

  I froze. Shit. I quickly wrapped myself in a towel and tiptoed to the door. It was pushed open as far as the chain would allow. I gulped.

  “I swear to God, Grace, I know you’re in there. Open. The. Door.”

  I couldn’t see his face, and that made me braver. I stayed out of view. “No.”

  “We need to talk. Let me in.”

  “I said, no. You crossed a line tonight, Anderson.” I leaned against the wall opposite the door, resting my head against it with my eyes closed. I craved the hot water in the shower again. “I’m busy right now and have nothing to say to you.”

  “Look, shit. Just let me in.” He spoke again, his voice getting softer.

  “I’m showering. No.” I pushed to shut the door, but it wouldn’t go far with his hands in the way. “I’m finishing. Then, maybe we can talk.”

  I went back into the bathroom, locking the door because if anyone could break into a hotel room, it would be Brock. However, the relaxation part was nonexistent. Sighing, I stepped out of the shower finding my oversized t-shirt and old running shorts. I took more time than usual, braiding my hair into two sides. It would be easier to deal with braided hair if we were going to be outside all the next day. It was then, and only then, after going through my entire bedtime routine that I contemplated opening the door.

  And, he wasn’t freaking there.

  I laughed, not finding it funny, but more laughing at my joke of a day. Fine. Another point for you, Brock. I looked up and down the hallway, spotting no sign of him. Perfect. Guess we weren’t having that conversation. Sitting alone in my room sounded awful, so I grabbed a bottle of water and headed down to the lobby where they had computers. Might as well get ahead on a project instead of watching TV. A couple hours went by without any interruptions, but then the air shifted.

  My neck broke out in goosebumps. I glanced at his large frame standing behind me and almost winced at his expression. He looked mad, which was absurd.

  He didn’t have any right to be mad over what I’d done.

  I hadn’t broken any rules.

  I was nothing to him.

  He was nothing to me. Nothing.

  “Let’s go talk about tomorrow,” he said, not smiling or doing anything to calm my anger.

  “Now? Because it suits your schedule?” I swiveled in the chair back toward the computer, preferring to not see his face.

  He reached out and spun me around, causing me to yelp. “What the hell, Anderson?”

  “Anderson again, huh?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Let’s go. It’s getting late, and tomorrow will be busy. I mean it.” He crossed his arms and waited until I shut the computer down. He hmphed and made all sorts of stupid, annoyed noises like I was in trouble.

  Why did I feel like I was going to be in timeout? Or punished? Or spanked?

  Oh, lord. Why did I think that? My face turned red as heat spread from my face down my neck. We walked to the elevator, not saying a word to each other on the way. He demanded I leave, so I wasn’t going to start a conversation.

  “Tomorrow we’re going to head out around eight for breakfast and head straight to the field. Can you be ready by then?”

  I looked at him, exasperated. My mouth hung open, disbelief apparent. How could he not acknowledge what happened? “Yes.”

  “Good.” His tone was curt, like I was a freaking pest. We waited for the elevator in an angry silence. It arrived, the tension between us so thick it hurt a little bit. I walked in, going to press the button, but he went for it at the same time. It was
like a scene from a movie. Our hands hit, an electric current flowing between the two of us. I sucked in a breath and jerked away.

  He did the same.

  I breathed faster, my chest heaving.

  He mirrored me. He pressed the button, turning to look at me with so much passion and desire in his eyes, I got wet. Holy shit. Those eyes were something before, and now, they were dangerous. His nostrils flared, his eyes bouncing back and forth between mine, and I waited. I waited, patiently and confused and ready. But, nothing happened.

  The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. “After you,” he said, his voice all sorts of gruff, like he was in desperate need of water.

  I nodded, ducking out in front of him and heading to the room he abandoned me in earlier. With shaking hands, I used the keycard and went in.

  He followed, closing the door behind him.

  My heart pounded in my throat, the heat between my legs throbbing unlike anything I had ever felt before. He leaned against the door, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he looked me up and down.

  Then, he did it again. There was so much heat in that stare. So. Much. Heat. Every bit of advice I had ever given Gilly or the girls I worked with went out the window. I was pissed at him in twenty different ways, but the look he gave me lit me up more than anything I had ever experienced. There was no way I was imagining this. No freaking way. My heart frantically tried to escape my chest, but my brain tugged her back in. I refused to give into this sexual cloud looming over us. It was absurd. I crossed my arms, putting my battle panties on. “I’m pissed at you.”

  He released a breath, pushing off the door and walking slowly to the chair. He walked like he had all the time in the world. “Yeah. I’m getting that.”

  “Glad to see your brain is up to speed.” I moved to lean against the headboard, arms crossed. I gave him my nasty stare, the meanest one I could.

  He gave nothing away besides the smallest quirk of a lip. His massive frame filled the chair, his elbows on his knees with those blue, blue eyes staring at me.

  “Why did you act like you just picked me up from my babysitter’s?”

  “Do you like annoying me?” he asked, ignoring my question entirely.

  “Are you going to ignore my question?” I fired back, the tension in the room suffocating me.

  “Are you always this belligerent?” He tilted his head, running a hand over his jaw. His voice wasn’t angry or nice, it just was. It annoyed me he was so unaffected; any proof of our weird sexual tension in the elevator was long gone. Now, it was a battle of wills, but I didn’t know what for. And, the asshole had the audacity to call me belligerent. So, without the filter most people had, my mouth took control.

  “Are you always such an asshole?” I barked, making a face at him. “Or, do you specially reserve it for me? You’re hot and cold. I don’t get it.” I slammed my eyes closed, making an elongated raspberry with my lips. I stood, pacing the small carpeted area between the two queen beds. I hadn’t looked at his face yet to see his response, and I was okay with not knowing. “I don’t get why you hate me sometimes.”

  “I told you I don’t hate you.” His words sounded pained, forced. I laughed, turning to face him. His dark brows were drawn together, his lush lips turned down in a hard frown. He grimaced when I met his eyes, making me feel marginally better. “Grace—”

  “Then what is it? I want to know,” I shouted, holding up a hand. “I can’t get another room. I damn well can’t tell the coach about being Grant and sounding like a whiner because in all honesty, Anderson, you’re the one with the problem.” I paused, pointing to the bed. “I’ll stay right here, won’t make a sound.”

  “Look, I told you I can be an asshole.” He groaned, standing up and went to grab his bag from the other side of the room. “I don’t hate you. Not at all actually. You make me laugh.”

  I sighed, closing my eyes in resignation. “Then, why are you such a dick to me?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice came out dark, deep, and laced with something I couldn’t name. He shuffled around for something in his bag and waited until I met his gaze. “Is it okay if I stay here?”

  “Yes. I told you that before you stormed out of here.” I pointed at him, adding fire to my voice. “Change. Afterward, we are going to talk.”

  “Great. What every guy loves to hear,” he said, rolling his eyes. Damn the playful eyes. He raised his brows at me, hitting the wall lightly before heading into the bathroom. That gave me time to think about what the hell had happened.

  He’d abandoned me. Hid from me. Ignored me.

  Then almost kissed me. He totally almost kissed me, right? I had no freaking idea. The sexual tension was almost painful, but it was gone as quick as it came. I needed to get a grip.

  Just as I began to relax, Anderson walked out of the bathroom in loose shorts and a cut off shirt. Oh. My. God.

  The glasses, wet messy hair, and the outfit.

  I gulped.

  He set his bag on the ground and carefully laid on the bed. He winced when he was on his right side, his jaw tightened before he looked over at me. I hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging open. But, I couldn’t be sure. He cleared his throat, looking all over the room before settling on my face. He swallowed, slowly blinking before he began speaking. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t what he said.

  “I may have overreacted about the room situation.”

  “May have? May have?” I raised my voice, sitting up in the bed. Laughter roared out of me, tears coming from my eyes. “God, from your reaction I thought you were going to tell me something crazy, some sort of reason why you’re an asshole. But no, that’s what I get. Holy balls.” I paused and took a self-soothing breath. “You are a trip, Anderson.”

  “I’m glad I amuse you.”

  “Oh, you do, but you also anger me like no one else. I want to punch your face every ten minutes.” I leaned back on the bed, rubbing my temples. He shuffled around, turning the lamp off and leaving us in darkness.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sure, it’s easy to apologize when the lights are off.” The rustle of covers and the click of the light startled me. “Hey now!”

  “Shit. You’re right.” He threw his legs over the bed and faced me.

  I counted to three, not wanting to do this now, but my mouth got me into the situation.

  “Grace. Look at me.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” I met his passionate expression and clenched my teeth together. The small swirl of desire floated in the air between us. We were alone. In a hotel room. The lone lamp the only lighting. It was the perfect scene from a movie. “Yes?”

  His eyes danced between mine, only briefly dropping to my mouth. “I’m an asshole, and you don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for apologizing. It doesn’t excuse it, though. I don’t understand why.” I crossed my arms, thankful I wore a loose shirt that wouldn’t push my boobs up. I didn’t need to give anything away.

  “I, uh—” He sighed, running a hand through that thick mane of curly hair. “I was annoyed we got paired together. I took it out on you.”

  “You realize I don’t moonlight as a Grant, right? I didn’t do this.” I raised a brow at him.

  “Yeah.” He grinned, quickly before a somber look took over. “I know. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything.”

  “About what?” My nerves were shot to hell with those words. Was he…did he think…wrong idea about what? My spine stiffened.

  “Us.” He met my eyes, daring me to challenge him. “Nothing will happen between us. I hope you know that.”

  A tinge of embarrassment mixed with fury as it flowed down my spine. I growled in response to him, “Okay? That has nothing to do with this.”

  He sucked in one side of his cheek, his eye twitching slightly as he watched me. My jaw hurt from grinding my teeth, but he clearly didn’t care. “You’re interning, and we have this,” he paused, waving his hand back and
forth between us, “I don’t know.”

  “Look, Anderson.” I sighed, rubbing my fingers on my brows. “Stop.”

  “I need you to understand that nothing will happen,” his voice deepened, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

  “You made your position clear. Thank you,” I said, lips pressing down firmly. I laid back down and counted to ten. I had no reason to be pissed. None. He was my boss. His role in my life would be over in November, regardless if they made it to a bowl game. My internship would be complete, and he’d be out of my life.

  “Are we good?” His trepidation pissed me off more. I wasn’t an overdramatic girl who would cry because her boss hurt her feelings.

  “Yes, boss,” I said, ending our fantastic conversation. Sleep soon took over, and I welcomed the mental escape from his mood swings.

  Chapter Twelve

  I needed to remember that I wanted this as a career—especially when I had to work with Brock and be near him every second of the following day. Every. Single. Minute.

  In my analysis of my crazy boss, I came up with two things. One, he had some shit to figure out. And the second thing, I wasn’t going to wait around or try to change him. I had enough to focus on.

  We were in the fourth quarter into the game, and we were up by three points. The game was rough, filled with dirty plays and lots of injuries. Brock barked at me over the sounds of whistles and the cheering fans to wrap joints and bag ice. We stood shoulder to shoulder most of the game as our players got beat up. Brock ran off when one of the linemen complained about shoulder pain, and I watched in awe at the intensity of the players.

  On our third down, with twenty yards to go, Peter, the team’s punter, ran up to me with an expectant face. “Grace, right?”

  “Yeah. You need ice or something?” I asked, not sure if I needed permission from Brock.

  “I need you to stretch me out. Anderson is helping Freddie.” I nodded, motioning for him to get on the grass. I had always seen trainers stretch players out, not many of them females, but it was still so freaking cool. It was a rush. “My left leg has been tight lately. I’ve been kicking daily and working on building muscle, but it's tight as hell. If we get in field goal range, I’m going in. I want to be ready.”