Traveling has never been on my bucket list because I never thought I would be able to afford it. And I don’t set myself up for unrealistic goals or dreams, that’s why I gave up my dream to own a bakery. Life screwed me over the moment I popped out my mom’s womb.

I grab my camera from my bag, click on the red button, powering it up. As soon as it’s alive, I snap a few pictures of Gunner and place it in my bag.

“If you’re gonna take pictures of me I suggest you use them as inspiration to fuck yourself,” he says, between bites and I stick my index finger in my mouth and pretend to gag.

“No, I’m going to hang them in my room and throw darts at them. Or draw horns sticking out from your head and write ‘I hate Gunner Underwood’ on it.”

“If you’re going to add all of that, make sure you write ‘But I love his giant dick.’”

I shake my head and pretend like I’m actually putting real thought into this. “I’m not going to tell lies.”

“It doesn’t have to be a lie, Rainbow. My dick is open like a twenty-four-hour grocery store. You can have access to it any time you want.” Lust pours into the depths of his eyes. And my vagina clenches at his words, and all of a sudden I feel like my skin is on fire, my ovaries are ready to explode. Does he have to keep turning me on—and of all places, at a restaurant?

“What happened to not wanting to sleep with your employee?” I tilt my head to the side.

“You don’t strike me as a vindictive bitch, so I’ll break my rule.”

“Come again?” This conversation went from playful to serious real quick.

“I fucked one of my employees, and when I dumped her ass, she threatened to sue me for sexual harassment. I had to pay her money out the ass to keep her trap shut about our relationship.”

“Oh,” is all I can say, really. Because I haven’t heard that floating around the break room. Wolf is a lot of things. Cruel, check. Male slut. Check. But after living with him for a month, he doesn’t strike me as a man who goes around sexually harassing women. At home, he always knocks on the bathroom and bedroom door and asks me if I’m fully dressed before he enters. I caught him a few times checking out my breasts or butt, but he never touched me inappropriately or in a way I didn’t like. And I feel safe around him, like he’s my security blanket.

I dig into my burger even though it burns my tongue. My mouth forms the letter O as I try to blow on it, and I grab my glass of Coke and wash it down.