Chapter 4 #2
I don’t try to sell myself on him or babble out my qualifications. He’s no doubt heard them already. And he’s not asking about my resume anyway. He’s asking about my character right now, and that’s the kind of thing a person has to judge for themselves.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I don't look away. I have nothing to hide. With me, what you see is what you get. If he’s going to invite me to come live in his home and take care of his son every day, I’m not going to pretend to be anything other than what I am.
A small town girl with a smart mouth who had to grow up too fast. If that’s not good enough for him, there’s nothing else to be said.
“Then you’re the one,” he says.
He leans back, and it’s like a spell has been shattered.
“You start on Monday. Eight in the morning. We’ll go over everything at the house.”
He gets to his feet. His cowboy boots are the same battered brown leather ones he was wearing earlier, and they still have dust on them.
He extends a hand to me. After a moment’s hesitation, I take it.
His hand closes around mine. His palm is calloused and twice the size of my own. He pulls me to my feet in one easy motion, like I weigh nothing, and for a half second we're standing close enough that I catch his scent. Clean and warm, like soap and sandalwood.
He must have showered between the lake and now.
The image of him standing beneath the spray of the water flashes through my mind, unbidden. All that tanned skin and hard muscle, water streaming down the planes of his chest, tracing the lines of his stomach, all the way down…
I cut the thought off right there, because I work for this man starting Monday.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he says.
Just like that, any grudging respect or overheated shower fantasies I have evaporate.
“Your son will always be cared for and happy when he’s with me,” I say. “I make no promises where you’re concerned.”
“Wouldn't dream of asking you for promises where I’m concerned, darlin’.” His drawl deepens. “You'd probably break them just to prove a point.”
Walker Rhodes calling you “darlin’” in that voice would bring a lot of women to their knees.
And probably has.
I glare at him instead.
“I always keep my promises,” I say.
“Good to know.” His eyes glint. “Just wondering. If I pay you double, will you be nice to me too?”
“Triple it, and maybe.” I study him a little closer. He doesn't look angry like he did at the lake. He looks… weirdly entertained. “But I’m not so sure you like ‘nice.’”
“Nice is boring,” he agrees.
“Then why pay triple to be bored?”
“Because I’d rather be bored than pissed off. Stay out of freezing lakes and I’ll stay out of your business. Do a good job watching over my son, and you and I can keep things pleasantly distant and professional. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.”
This is the point at which people usually clasp hands and shake on it. Except that we both seem to notice at the same time that there's no way to do that, because he's still holding my hand from when he helped me up from the chair.
So instead of shaking hands, we both suddenly drop our grip by abrupt mutual agreement.
My palm stays warm where his hand was.
“Monday,” he says. “Be on time.”
He’s using that tone. The one that says he's used to giving commands. To being listened to. Which he is, of course, by millions of people and probably a whole team of professionals dedicated to him.
Except I’m not registering that tone as professional. Instead, that deep, velvety voice is one I’m feeling run right down my spine. Settling directly between my thighs.
Which is another experience I likely share with lots of women. A fact that’s especially humiliating given that he's my new boss and I've known him for about two hours.
I can’t believe I’m signing up to be ordered around by him for three months straight. This seems like a bad idea.
“Triple the pay, right?” I say.
Those green eyes glimmer. No doubt he’s hearing the hint of sass underneath my words. Maybe he’s kind of liking it, for some reason. “That’s what I said.”
I can’t believe he’s agreeing to this. I mean, he can easily afford it, but still.
For me, it’s an astronomical sum. This will pay for a year’s rent for my New York apartment.
A new air conditioner for Momma’s trailer.
I can even send a hefty donation to the Marble Falls food pantry.
Momma and I relied on it for a long time. Now I can finally give something back.
All right. At least I’ll be getting paid well to paste on a smile. I give him one now. Ultra-sweet. “Then of course I’ll be on time, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Walker,” he growls.
I bat my eyelashes. “Walker. You’ll be happy to know I’m very good at following instructions. When they're worth following. Sir.”
I have the satisfaction of watching his jaw tighten, watching him work to keep his expression neutral and almost manage it. Those green eyes go so dark they’re nearly black. It sends a flush straight up my cheeks, and I'm very glad I'm already turning away.
I put a little extra sway into my hips as I do.
It's petty and I know it.
I can practically feel his eyes burning a hole into me from behind. I make it all the way to the door before I realize I'm smiling.
I always did like getting the last word.
I’m not gonna think too hard on the fact that it was to call him “sir” in a voice that was practically a purr.