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Jasper didn’t like me. I’d been shadowing Fisher for over a week now and had hoped that once Jasper and I were working alone that the constant look of disdain he wore when he looked in my direction would disappear. Five minutes into it being the two of us alone, and if anything, he appeared to have progressed to appalled. Knowing that they’d been hesitant to hire me, and the desire to win Jasper over—not that I could remember why I’d wanted to do that now—I’d decided last night when mulling over what to make in the coming week, that one of my specialties was in order. It didn’t hurt that Jasper had mentioned it used to be one of his favorite meals. Based on Jasper’s reaction, I’d gotten it wrong.
Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m not sure what you’re… Oh, fuck.” Realization dawned on me. “Seafood.”
The adorable little shit pressed his pointer finger to his nose. “Ding. Ding. Ding. Give the man a cookie.”
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