Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
His voice hits my back when I reach the door. “My office is off-limits to you now. I don’t want you coming in here. Ever.”
I stop in the open doorway and turn back to him. “Yes, Mr. Matis.” I even curtsy, just to be a bitch.
He frowns. And, with darkness on his face and in his eyes, he turns away from me.
I grab the door handle and start to pull the door closed. But not before I see Kas pull a key from his pocket and put that key in the mystery door to lock it.
An hour later, I’m head in the oven, cleaning it, when I hear footsteps come in the kitchen.
I know it’s Kas by his footfalls.
How sad is that? That I know him by the sound of his steps.
Well, whatever.
I’m still pissed at him. He’s a dick, and I’m ignoring him. I’m not in the mood to be yelled at again.
His presence has reignited my flame of anger, and it’s turned into a raging inferno.
I continue scrubbing the oven clean, probably harder than necessary.
“Daisy,” he says my name softly.
His voice is like a gentle brush of fingers over my skin, which breaks out in goose bumps.
Why does he so easily affect me?
It’s annoying. He’s a knobhead. A big knobhead who yells at me all the time.
Fixing steel into my spine, I ignore my traitorous skin, and I ignore him.
I hear him sigh loudly behind me.
“Daisy…earlier…I acted like a total dick. I’m…sorry.”
What?
My head jerks up with my shock at his apology, and I smack it on the roof of the oven.
“Shit!” I wince. Dropping the cleaning sponge, my rubber glove–covered hand goes immediately to my head.
I pull back out of the oven, rubbing at the sore spot.
“Are you okay?” Kas’s voice comes from close behind me.
“I’m fine,” I huff.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Without looking at him, I walk over to the sink.
I yank the rubber gloves off with more force than necessary. I toss them on the side of the sink and start washing my hands.
He might have said sorry, but I’m still mad, and I think I have a right to be.
Sure, he pays my wages, but that doesn’t give him the right to be an almighty tosser to me ninety percent of the time. It negates all the times he has been nice to me. And his lame-arse sorry resulted in me smacking my head. So, yeah, there’s that as well.
I hear him move, and then he’s standing beside me, his back leaning against the kitchen counter. He curls his hands around the edge.
I don’t look at him. I stay focused on washing my hands, which are already clean. I just need something to do with my hands, or I might do something crazy, like strangle him.
“Daisy…”
I shut off the tap and grab the hand towel from the counter. Walking away, I dry my hands.
I need the distance.
I’m sick of him running hot and cold. I’m tired of being yelled at. And of him treating me with kindness one minute and then treating me like I have the plague the next.
Sure, he has come in here and apologized for, yet again, being a dickhead. Don’t get me wrong; the apology is a first and a shock. But I’ve had enough of his dickish ways.
The silence between us stretches and drags. I’ve overdried my hands. Now, I’m counting the tiles on the wall.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I toss the towel on the counter and turn around to face him. “Is there something you need me to do?”
That’s it, Daisy. Keep it work-related. Don’t make it personal.
Is it personal?
Kas warily eyes me. Then, he tips his head in the direction of the bag of muffins I brought him, which is now sitting on the center island.
“You can help me eat those.” His words are soft but ineffective.
“No, I’m good. Anything else?”
He stares at me, surprised and also like he’s not sure what to do now.
What did he think was going to happen? That I’d fall at his feet and say, Yes, Kas! Of course I want to help you eat those muffins that I brought you and put in your office before you yelled at me.
Not likely, arsehole.
“Is there something else you need?” I push.
I’m pushing because I want to get out of here and away from him.
His brows draw together in consternation. “No.”
“Okay. Well, I’ve got work to do, so…” I pivot on my heel and make for the door.
“Actually…”
His low tone stops me in my tracks, and I slowly turn to face him.
He pushes off the counter and walks forward, stopping by the island. The look in his eyes makes my heart bang against my rib cage. He leans his hip against the island and folds his arms over his chest. I ignore how good his arms look while stretched over that magnificent chest of his.