Damaged goods, I'd like to meet that ex of hers and kick the shit out of him. She was humming under her breath as she puttered around in the kitchen. I'd been in and out all day since bringing her back to fix the jackasses their lunch. I'd tried having a stern talk with them about expecting her to cook all their meals, but they'd just looked at me like I was nuts and kept stuffing their faces with the fried chicken and cornbread she'd rustled up for them. Not even my grumbled threats did much good, so I'd decided to give it up for now and enjoy her offerings. My girl could cook her ass off and that’s a fact. They'd barely been through with lunch, when they started making noises about ‘what's for dinner?’ the greedy asses. That's when I'd finally kicked them out. Now I'm slinking around my office looking for shit to keep me busy so I could be near her. I’m pretty sure that everyone knew the real reason I was hanging around, and it wasn’t because I was afraid her ex would show up here.
