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)
I got ready and was in the shop early. Red—Charly—was still asleep in my bed, exhausted after round three this morning. Brett walked in from the back about thirty minutes later, and we discussed the day and the appointments. We talked about Charly’s new website and ideas.
“She is pretty damn clever,” he said.
“That she is. But let’s not tell her. Otherwise, I’m not sure we can live with her,” I stated dryly.
“Live with who?” Charly asked, walking into the office.
It was all I could do not to react. She was wearing one of the old garage shirts, the sleeves rolled up, the tails tied in front, with a pair of tight yoga pants and glittery pink sneakers. Her hair was tied up high on her head with a bandanna holding it back. She looked like a fucking pinup girl.
My cock lengthened at the sight of her. I had to turn away and pretend she didn’t affect me.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” I snarked. “The shop opened fifteen minutes ago, and there isn’t even any coffee made.”
Brett chuckled and headed to the garage.
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, boss. My alarm clock didn’t go off, so I guess I slept in. It won’t happen again.”
“See it doesn’t.”
She draped over me, her breasts rubbing against my arm. She traced her finger over the blotter, tapping it. “The first appointment isn’t for another half hour. It’s all good.” She pressed closer. “My alarm clock needs to be reset.” Her breath drifted across my ear. “It behaved very badly this morning.”
I held back my groan. Her scent surrounded me, and I felt the hardness of her nipples on my skin. Little minx was playing with me.
I refused to rise to the bait.
I stood so fast she almost toppled over. “Get coffee going, and I want to see some more numbers from your ideas later today.”
She bit back her smile, playing with the ends of the shirt. “On it.”
She puttered around, making coffee. I had no idea why I stayed to watch her, but I couldn’t seem to make my feet move. She reached up to grab a filter, the shirt lifting, showing a sliver of skin between the waistband and the ties of the shirt.
I leaned close. “Change your shirt. You shouldn’t wear it like that.”
She looked down. “Like what?”
“Tied up and showing skin.”
“I’m not showing any skin!”
“You did,” I insisted. “When you reached up. I saw it.”
“That would happen whether I wore a T-shirt or this shirt,” she protested. “It’s called gravity.”
“For god’s sake, stop arguing and change.”
She put her hand on her hip, staring at me. “For god’s sake or yours, Maxx?”
“Take it off,” I warned.
She grinned, tugging at the tails. “You plan on giving Brett that show, do you?”
“I meant change it.” I scowled.
She undid the ties so the shirt fell past her hips. “Better?” she asked sarcastically. “Will that satisfy your puritan eyes?”
Fuck.
She was even sexier with the shirt billowing around her. It was huge—swallowing her up, making my imagination run wild with what it was hiding. My cock knew what it was concealing, and it wanted under that shirt.
What the hell was going on with me?
“Hardly,” I snarled at her and turned and walked away.
Her low laughter followed me.
She was a beacon all day. It was as if something had shifted inside me and everything revolved around her. I could pinpoint her location in the garage every moment. I heard her voice even over the sound of the machinery and the music we had playing. I knew when she was close. I wanted to bark at every customer who went into the office to pay their bill and made her laugh. I stomped in with some lame excuse whenever I thought the customer was hanging around too long. I glowered at many. Found reasons to need Charly on another task and took care of the payments myself.
Everyone commented on the garage and the changes. They admired the pictures, and a few of them shared stories of my dad. I had to grudgingly admit it was all Charly’s doing, which only brought their attention to her even more.
I sighed in relief when she disappeared midafternoon to take care of her “other duties,” as she called them. At least hidden in the house, she was out of sight.
Until I realized the reason many of the customers weren’t hanging out in the new waiting area was because she was working outside on a blanket with Rufus, and the customers were out there, talking to her.
My shitkickers dug into the grass as I marched over, glaring and angry. Three customers sat on lawn chairs, staring at her as she spoke, her hands waving in the air as she made a point.
With the bright light glinting off her hair, her pale skin touched by the sun, and wearing the old shirt, she was vibrant, sexy, and clueless as to her draw.