Series: Shifter Ops Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Yes, he is.” I smile weakly.
“He’s a good kid. Growing into a fine young man. I hope I don’t overstep when I say I have a soft spot for you two.”
“You’ve been more than generous.” With my boss’s help, I’m getting Geo into an exclusive private school, Woodman Prep. Tuition’s expensive, but my new generous salary will cover it. More importantly, Mr. van den Berg’s referral ensures Geo has a place. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
He waves a hand. “It was my pleasure. You’ve done a fine job as a mother, but a growing boy needs a good example. A challenge, more responsibility. A robust environment. He’ll get all that at Woodman.”
“You went there as a boy, correct?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, the facilities are modernized. All new computers, tablets, and sports facilities.”
It actually wasn’t the STEM technology stuff that attracted me to Woodman. He gets plenty of that at his current school. It was the wide open campus and outdoor learning activities. “Geo is excited about the mountain biking class.”
“Ah yes, that’s what he needs, lots of exercise. Did the school receive my referral?”
“Yes, and we’re so grateful–”
He waves off my gratitude. “Then everything’s settled.”
I nod, even though everything’s not settled. I still have to organize the first payment and the transfer of Geo’s transcript. It’s all on my to do list.
“He’s a fine boy,” Mr. van den Berg says. “His father would be proud.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
The growl of an engine outside makes my head turn. My home office is in the unused third bedroom, facing the cul-de-sac. There’s a bright red pickup truck rolling up to the house, towing an open trailer with a familiar-looking motorcycle.
I can't stop my frown.
“Everything all right?”
“Excuse me, Mr. van den Berg. Someone just pulled up to the house.” The red truck pulls into my driveway, blocking my car.
“Uninvited company?”
“Something like that.” I crane my neck. I can’t see who jumped out of the red truck and slammed the door, but I can guess. “Geo’s uncle is back in town.”
“Uncle?” Mr. van den Berg's bushy brows knit together. “I didn’t know he had an uncle.”
“On his father’s side. We haven't seen him in a few years.”
“I see. Well, best not keep him waiting too long. Shall we?”
I get to work, focusing on running down the list of things my boss needs to review and making notes of his critiques and preferences. We end a few minutes early.
“I’ll compile this and send over the documents for you to sign,” I say.
“No rush. I won’t check my email until tomorrow. Go see your guest.”
“Thank you, sir.” I log off, feeling guilty. Mr. van den Berg is so nice. I type up a quick draft of my notes anyway and schedule it to leave my inbox first thing in the morning. Then I stand and square my shoulders.
Time to rip Channing a new one.
The big red truck is still in my driveway. I can’t see Channing, but there are tools spread out on a tarp half on, half off my lawn. There’s a banging sound followed by the whine of a power tool.
What is he up to?
Geo’s door is still shut. He’s probably done with his homework by now and on to gaming. With his headphones on, he’s in his own little world.
Which is good. He won’t hear me unleashing the beast on his uncle.
Channing’s crouched beside my half open front door. Once again, he is not wearing a shirt. Sweat glistens on the awesome muscles of his chest and back.
He looks up, and our eyes meet. Green and gold in dark rims. My steps falter, and I trip over a worn duffel bag in Army green.
“Careful,” Channing warns, too late.
I stop and seethe, marshaling my thoughts. I kick the bag, but it’s too heavy to send flying, so I slide it with my foot out of the way. “What are you doing here?”
“Fixing the knob. See?” He steps back and makes a show of turning the shiny new doorknob. “Now the door can shut properly.”
He’s right, the door’s fixed. Something on my to do list that I would’ve gotten to, someday. Certainly not today.
I’ll thank him after I murder him. Why is his shirt off? “Channing–”
“No, need to thank me,” he says, before I can light into him. “You’ve got some shingles missing on your roof. I’m doing that next. And I ordered pizza for dinner. Hope that's okay.”
I’m panting with irritation, but I can’t keep up. Doorknob, shingles…pizza? “No!”
He tilts his head. “You don’t like pizza? I also got hot wings.”
“You can’t just show up here and…” I wave my hands. I’m a lawyer. I use complex language all day. Channing has me at a complete loss for words. It might be his shirtlessness. His chest is dusted with golden hairs that curl. I mean, I’m not looking at his chest hair, though. I’m not!