Hate Me or Love Me

by Ella Miles

  I look up as he catches the scarf. I didn’t run into a brick wall. I ran into Cole, the perfect specimen of a man from the hospital. He looks like he’s healed well in the weeks since I last saw him. His face is still bruised, and he will always have a scar on his forehead, but it will fade over time. He seems to be walking well, although I see a tiny limp as he brings the scarf back to me. Most people wouldn’t notice the limp, and it shouldn’t have a significant impact on him unless he were an athlete or something before the accident. Very possible considering how built he is.

  He grins, and I melt.

  “I didn’t think I was going to get to see my favorite nurse again.”

  Swallow, breathe, stop drooling.

  He chuckles at my speechlessness. “Didn’t mean to make you speechless. I think your voice might be my favorite thing about you.”

  “I’m sorry for running into you.”

  He shakes his head. “Entirely, my fault.”

  We both bend down and start picking up the rest of my clothes before they blow away. Cole holds up my red lace thong, the only sexy item of clothing I own.

  He raises an eyebrow before I snatch it out of his hand. I know I’m blushing and won’t be able to look him in the eye again.

  He puts a finger under my chin, so I have to look up at him.

  “Don’t do that. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve had dreams about you in similar underwear. Now my dreams are about to get a whole heck of a lot dirtier.”

  I blush more.

  “Um…thanks.” Great word choice, I think to myself. God, can I embarrass myself any more?

  Cole stacks my books up. “Let me help carry these to your car.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble because I don’t trust my voice to say anything more.

  “Can I ask where you are going? A last-minute trip before school starts again? Or are you ditching classes?”

  I should keep my mouth shut. But the alcohol has now loosened my tongue, and I’m beyond exacerbated at this point. “I got expelled. Well, not expelled, suspended. They’re kicking me out, and I will probably spend the rest of my life alternating between sleeping on my sister’s or brother’s couch and sleeping in my car, while I wait tables and get hit on by drunk guys who like to grab my ass and listen to my voice and think that because I can’t help but speak sultrily it gives them permission to fuck me.”

  Cole’s eyes go big, but he doesn’t speak. He probably thinks I’m insane after witnessing my mini-meltdown. He’s probably trying to figure out how to get away from me as fast as possible.

  We make it to my car, and I pop the trunk, not even caring to move the McDonalds wrappers in the back. I put my bags in, and Cole places the books next to the bags.

  He opens his mouth, and I know words come out, but I can’t hear them over the engine of a motorcycle speeding into the parking lot. My gaze focuses on the motorcycle.

  No fucking way.

  Knight parks the motorcycle in a no parking zone and then spots me.

  Shit. This is not happening. He can’t see me like this. I’ll kill him.

  I turn to the still bumbling Cole. He can save me from Knight. Knight won’t come over if he thinks Cole is my boyfriend.

  I move up on my tiptoes, barely grab Cole’s cheeks, and kiss him. Our eyes both take a second to close as I’ve taken us both by surprise, but it happens. I push my tongue into his mouth, needing to take this kiss with me when I go. It might be a while until I get to kiss a man like this. Unless I decide to whore myself out to survive.

  Cole wraps his arms around me caressing my face as he does. His tongue is gentle in my mouth, exploring but not as frantic as my tongue. He moans softly, showing me he enjoys the kiss, but nothing more.

  No sparks fly.

  No electricity lights.

  No emotions form.

  Nothing. The kiss is nice, but nice isn’t enough. Not when the fucker who got me fired’s kiss did all of that and more. I’ve been getting myself off every night to the memory of that kiss. A kiss that should be my worst nightmare has become my fantasy.

  We both pull away and smile at each other like we’ve just been having a friendly conversation. Nice. Cole Tracker is the hottest man I’ve ever kissed, and all I felt was nice. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. He’s wearing an expensive suit. It’s clear his life is together. I should fall for a man like him, but instead, I want the bad boy who is barreling toward us.

  Cole doesn’t turn around, but I can see in his eyes he feels the danger approaching. “This is going to hurt,” he mumbles so quietly I’m not sure I hear him correctly.

  I see the blood before I realize what happened. I expect them to get into a brawl. I expect Cole to whip around and punch Knight in the face like he deserves. I grab my phone ready to call in reinforcements to break them up if I need to.

  Nothing happens though. Cole laughs as blood drips from his nose. His eye is already swollen and turning different colors with every second that passes. Red, purple, and blue.

  Knight glares at me and then walks back to his motorcycle. He looks good. His tattoos hides the scars on his arms; I only find a faint one on his cheek. His hair is cut shorter, but still longer than most men’s. And his eyes see through to my soul. The engine roars, and he’s gone as quickly as he came.

  “What just happened?” I ask, my mouth gaping. “Do you know him?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I stare in the direction of Knight’s exit. I really do want to know, but I don’t push Cole. Instead, I watch as the dust settles back on the asphalt by the curb.

  “I might have a job for you,” Cole says.

  I stare at him, dumbfounded.

  “What?” I have no idea what he just said.

  He strokes my cheek. It’s not a loving gesture, more like a goodbye.

  When he finishes, I’m left with nothing. No chills, no goosebumps, no reaction. Knight had a stronger reaction to me, and he didn’t even touch me or speak to me.

  Cole reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a business card. He hands it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “A way for you to do more than just survive.”

  I blink, not believing my luck might have changed. That Cole might not be able to get my panties wet, but he is obviously successful. He might be able to get me a job. Which, right now, I need more than a boyfriend.

  “What’s the job?” I ask.

  He smirks. “Meet me at the address tonight at eight. And wear your nicest outfit. I’ll make sure you have a job by tonight.”

  He turns to leave.

  “Thanks!” I say, suddenly getting my voice back.

  He nods solemnly. “And stop kissing strange boys, it keeps getting you in trouble.”

  I blush and smile at his words. He has no idea how much kissing men has gotten me in trouble. He said boys though, not men. I watch Cole walk away, while Knight’s body flickers in my head. Neither of which I would call a boy. They might be closer to my age than I realized at first appearance, but they are successful. They have built a life. They know how to charm me. Only a man could do that.

  5

  Knight

  I sit down next to my asshole of a friend. I don’t know why I’m even here except for a chance to pummel his face again for what he did.

  “No ice? You didn’t even bring me a drink?”

  I roll my eyes. “You don’t need me to bring you anything. You have women to do that for you.”

  Cole shrugs and then eyes one of the waiters who smiles at him. She comes over immediately.

  “Can you get me ice for my face? And two double Maker’s Marks, neat.”

  “Blanton’s for me.”

  Cole rolls his eyes as if he thinks he ordered the better bourbon. He didn’t.

  Neither of us talks as we sit in the corner of the bar in our usual booth. Cole watches the ass of our waiter as she prances away, while I spend my time glaring at him. But we both know better than to speak unti
l we have alcohol in us.

  The waiter returns quickly. Chrissy is her name, I think. She usually waits on us when we are here. Although, I’m too much of a dick to remember her name or anyone else’s in this club.

  She sets our drinks down and then makes a show of pressing the ice pack to Cole’s face, showing him her boobs in the process.

  “Thank you, Chrissy,” I say, needing to get this conversation over with. I have better things I need to be doing.

  She smiles. “I’m surprised you know my name.”

  “I don’t. It was a lucky guess.”

  She huffs but leaves us alone after a glance from Cole encouraging her to go, with a promise he’ll make it worth her while later.

  “What the fuck was that about?”

  “I was flirting with the waitress. What’s so wrong with that? I enjoy mixing business with pleasure.” Cole winces as he presses the ice to his eye.

  “I’m not talking about Chrissy. I don’t care what you do with her. I’m talking about Mila.”

  “Mila? I’m not sure I know who you are talking about.”

  “The woman whose tongue you had in your mouth this afternoon.”

  “Oh, her.” Cole puts the ice down and rests his arms on the back of the booth. Jackass. He knows exactly who I’m talking about. I don’t understand what game he’s playing.

  “Explain yourself, now. Before I beat the hell out of you and make you wish you never touched a woman again.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about Mila.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Please. The only reason I found her, or tasted her luscious lips, is because I know you have a thing for her.”

  “I do not.”

  Cole ignores me. “I knew you wouldn’t ask her out on your own, so I decided an intervention was needed.”

  “I was headed to find her five minutes after you left. That’s why I saw the two of you swapping spit.”

  “How was I supposed to know?”

  I growl.

  “Fine, I knew you’d go after the girl.”

  “Mila.”

  “Mila. I knew you’d go after her, but I knew she wouldn’t go for you.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “For one, your game isn’t what it used to be. You’ve been out of practice for the last five years.”

  I shoot daggers with my eyes. But I pick up my drink to sip and let him finish.

  “Two, you got her suspended from college with your kiss, so she hates your guts.”

  I drink. I can’t argue with that one. I royally fucked that up.

  “And three, she’s still totally hung up on me.”

  I slam my drink down and about climb over the table to get to him.

  “Whoa, chill. She’s not into me anymore.”

  I sit back. “How do you know?”

  “The kiss.”

  I growl again. “Don’t remind me.”

  “She kissed me to avoid having to talk to you, but I know she’s secretly wanted to do it since she saved my life.”

  “She didn’t save your life; I did when I pulled you out of the burning car. Although I don’t know why I did that now, you butthead.”

  He smiles. “Butthead is tame.”

  “Well, you’re my only friend. I don’t want to piss you off too much.”

  “How do you know she’s not into you anymore?”

  “The kiss.”

  I groan, again with the damn kiss.

  “There was no spark. Chicks care a lot about if there is a spark on the first kiss.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Chicks always find a spark with you, although I have no idea why.”

  He shrugs. “There wasn’t one. I even gave her my best kiss to piss you off thoroughly. Nothing happened though.”

  We both sip our drinks in silence as I process what Cole said.

  “Nothing happened?” I repeat.

  “Well, I offered her a job because she is desperate now that you’ve made her destitute.”

  “What kind of job?” I growl, hoping the job is in his legal department or something.

  He glances behind me. “Mila’s here, right on time for her job interview.”

  “What?” I snap my head around and find Mila. She seems both out of place and precisely in the right place. She’s wearing a skirt and suit jacket two sizes too big for her frail body. Her shoes are dark pumps that also appear too big. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing red, fuck-me lipstick. I don’t know whether she is looking for a job in a law office, or if this is part of her act when she goes on stage and strips.

  “No, she’s not fucking working here. She’s not becoming a stripper, or escort, or whore. Not even a waitress here.”

  Cole smirks as he relaxes into the booth.

  “I’m going to kill you. I’ll give you another shiner to match the one you already have.”

  “No, you won’t. Now, I can offer her a job, or you can. The choice is yours.”

  I grab my drink and down it, hating that he’s calling my bluff and forcing my hand.

  This is what I wanted though. A chance to make Mila mine. An opportunity for her to agree to my plan.

  She spots me the second I stand. I’m not hard to spot. I don’t exactly fit in at this club. I’m not a suit with a hard-on for young girls.

  I see her eyes, and I know what she’s thinking. She should turn and walk out the door. But Cole’s right. She’s desperate. I could probably convince her to spread her legs for half the men in this club if it paid well. I don’t know what’s happened to her, but I hate seeing her this way.

  “Mila, I didn’t expect to see you in a fine establishment like this.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you again, at all.”

  My cock is instantly straining against the zipper of my jeans when she speaks. I’ve never heard a voice like hers.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t notice. Or maybe, unfortunately.

  “Here for a job?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Oh, then I guess you’re here to watch the women dance. You could have told me you were into women; I would have left you alone.”

  She glares. “I’m not into women.”

  I circle behind her as she stares ahead, trying to pretend like the naked women in front of her don’t bother her.

  “I know.”

  She shivers.

  I touch the nape of her neck. “Your body responds to my words, my touch, my presence.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want to talk to the asshole who kisses me, gets me fired, and gets me kicked out of college. How could you?”

  I see the pain in her eyes when I move back in front of her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her mouth drops. She wasn’t expecting me to apologize.

  “I thought I was helping you.”

  “How could kissing me be helping me?”

  “Your supervisor walked in when you purposely tugged on my IV. And I think she saw you throw my pain medication in the trash, although I can’t be sure. I thought if she saw me kiss you, she’d realize I’m a bastard that had been sexually harassing you, and she wouldn’t punish you for what you had done previously.”

  Her mouth forms the perfect ‘O.’ And I can’t help but wonder if that is her same look when she orgasms. I don’t say that though. I’m already in the doghouse with her. And as much as she hates me, I need her help.

  “Well, that backfired badly.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I talked to the dean, but he had already made up his mind. Although, I think I can help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  I cock my head. “You sure about that, pretty girl?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure.”

  “It seems I owe you a job after what I did.”

  “You own this place?” she gasps.

  I shrug.

  “Of course, you do. Only sick bastards like you would own a strip club.”

  “It’s not
just a strip club. It’s also an escort service and every man or woman’s fantasy. It’s a club for the elite, and can become whatever they need.”

  She scans the crowd, realizing everyone here is in an expensive suit. Well, everyone but her and me.

  “Do you want to talk about the job or not?”

  I see the beads of sweat dripping down her neck. She licks her lips trying to moisten her dry mouth. I can hear her heart beating wildly against her cheap suit jacket.

  She’s considering what she will do or not do for money. No, not for money, to survive. It’s obvious she’s been through enough to be a survivor. She will do what she has to.

  I admire that about her, but it won’t protect her. She will still end up hurt in the end if she agrees to my plan, no matter how I try to protect her.

  “I’m listening.”

  I don’t know whether to smile or frown. As soon as I tell her my proposal, she will say yes. I still don’t know entirely what I’m proposing, but I know it won’t be good for her. It might even destroy her.

  I turn and walk toward one of the private rooms. I stop Chrissy to get her to bring us drinks. I don’t turn to see if Mila is following me, I know she is.

  I’ve seen desperation. I’ve felt it. It’s how I’m living. I will do anything to fix my current predicament. So in that regard, we are the same.

  I hold the door open for her to the private room, and she steps inside cautiously, like a lamb walking into a lion’s den. She takes a seat on the chair while I spread out on the couch.

  I don’t speak until Chrissy has brought us drinks.

  I take them both from her. “Tequila or vodka?”

  “Vodka,” she answers.

  “Good,” I say handing her the vodka drink.

  “That doesn’t look like tequila.”

  I sip my whiskey. “It’s not.”

  “Then, why did you offer me a tequila drink?”

  “I knew you’d want one or the other. I guessed, but if you’d asked for tequila, I would have gotten that for you.”

  “Why do you think I would prefer vodka?”

  “Because tequila represents your wild, carefree, fuck it side. Vodka is just as strong, but you feel more in control when you drink it, which is what you think you need around me.”