Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“There were parts there I need. How will I find them?”
“I took every part and placed it on the workbench. Every screw, every wire, every little mechanical piece that you left on the desk is out there.” I indicated the boxes. “All the paperwork is in these boxes. I will go through each box and organize it. Then I will invoice all these jobs and get some capital flowing in.” I waved my hand at the old computer sitting on the desk. “That needs updating.”
“It works,” he protested, crossing his arms.
“It’s ancient. Does it still run on Windows98?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted. “I’m not one for technology of that sort.”
“I do and I am. A nice laptop would work well. And a new printer. You want a decent website, I need the tools to do so.” I pushed a piece of hair over my ear. “I’ll use mine until we get one. Until then, I need the password for this one.”
“Cycle.”
“Original.”
“Stop busting my chops.”
“Stop being a dick.”
We were locked in a battle of glares. I gave in and shook my head. “Coffee is made. Do you want breakfast?”
“No.”
“Fine. I’m going to work in here this morning unless you want something else done?”
“No.”
He was obviously going to be difficult no matter what I said or did.
“I assume tomorrow you have appointments? Do I answer the phone? How do you want them booked?”
He blinked, for the first time looking unsure. “However they come.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you look after this, and I’ll look after the front. I sort of have my own system.”
I looked around the office. “I’ll say. Holy moly, what a mess.”
I swore his lips quirked. Then he schooled his features. “Do your job, Charly.”
“Trying.”
He turned, and I called out, “Wait.”
“What?”
“No breakfast, but I assume you want lunch and dinner?”
“Yes. I have a job I’m working on. So just a sandwich at some point. Dinner…” His voice trailed off, and a real, honest smile lit his face. “Whatever that was you made last night, I approve.”
“You liked it?” I asked, suddenly feeling shy.
“I polished it off. All of it.”
“Oh. Okay. I’m glad you liked it.”
“I did.”
For a moment, something warm and real passed between us. I caught a glimpse of the man from Friday night, and it made my heart jump in my chest.
“Thank you for the lock.”
He lifted a shoulder, then paused, as if wanting to say something.
“Yes?” I asked
“Nothing. I have work to do. Since I’m paying you, I suggest you get back to yours.”
I sniffed. “Been at it since six, so you know. And as you pointed out, it is my day off.”
“Nice to see some initiative,” he shot back, heading to the coffeemaker. “Stop brownnosing the boss.” He poured a cup of coffee and took a long sip. “Just because you’re working today, don’t be late tomorrow. I will drag you out of bed and kick your ass to get you to work.”
“I’d like to kick your ass,” I muttered.
He appeared by my elbow. “What was that?”
“I said I have gas,” I deadpanned. “You might want to leave the room.”
He blinked, stepped back, then walked away.
But I heard him laughing, and I hugged myself. Another small victory.
Midafternoon, I stood and stretched. The desk was now organized and tidy. Tomorrow, I planned on tackling the huge pile of outstanding payments. That would take me a while, but it needed to be done.
I walked through the garage, Maxx busy under the hood of a car. I couldn’t help staring at his ass as I walked. Bent over, his jeans pulled tight, it was spectacular. Sculpted, round, and I recalled, firm. Not looking where I was going, I tripped over a piece of equipment, ending up on the hard cement floor, muttering in pain and exasperation.
“Holy moly, crap on a cracker…” I cursed, holding my hand.
Maxx pulled himself up, hurrying over. “What happened?” Concern colored his voice. “Are you hurt?”
Up close, under the bright lights, his dark eyes had flecks of gold and green, and they were mesmerizing, rendering me unable to speak.
He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me a little. “Charly!”
I blinked and flushed, realizing how silly I must look. “I’m fine.”
He tugged on my hand. “Let me see.”
I uncurled my fist, and he cursed. The skin was torn and bleeding, having taken the brunt of my weight as I fell. He stood, taking me with him. I yelped in shock, pushing on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to bandage your hand.”
“I can walk.”
“Apparently not well. How the hell did you trip over a creeper? It was right there!”
My cheeks became hotter. “Um, I was distracted.” I wiggled a little. “Let me down.”
“No.”
He headed down the hall and into the small bathroom off the office. He held my hand under the water, ignoring my gasp of pain as the water hit the torn flesh.