Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Oliver
“We got it!” Holt shoves open my door and marches in my office. “Right fucking here.”
“Um, who got it?” Boone makes a face as he follows our brother in. “I got it. Me.”
Holt fires him a look. “I’m gonna kill you.”
I throw my phone on my desk. “I’m gonna kill both of you if you don’t learn how to fucking knock.”
My gaze slips to Shaye. She glances up at me from her desk and smiles.
I’m sure she’s thinking what I’m thinking—if they’d have barged in here any day over this past week, there’s a chance that they would’ve found her bent over my desk, lying half-naked on the sofa, or leaning against the wet bar with my fingers inside her sweet little pussy.
Since our first night together and our agreement to be exclusive, it’s been impossible to keep my hands off her.
I adjust my cock and move my eyes back to my brothers.
“What’s so important that you forgot your manners?” I ask them.
“Fine.” Boone crosses one ankle over his knee. “Let’s not tell him until he’s nice, Holt.”
Holt tries not to smile. When he speaks, his voice is lowered. “Let’s get his EA in here. Bet he’ll be nice then.”
They both know. They have to. The look they both give me tells me that they know I’m involved with Shaye.
I should just admit it. It would make life a hell of a lot easier. I’m sure Holt would try to convince me to move her to Boone’s office or maybe even Wade’s, and I’m just as sure I’d shoot that down like a clay pigeon.
Having Shaye next door to me has changed my entire day. I used to work for hours on end, barely going home to sleep. I was anxious, unsettled—looked forward to the next deal and maybe Sunday dinner at Mom’s.
But now? It’s different. My office, my life, has changed. In some ways, it’s subtle. It’s laughing more in the office and leaving earlier to take Shaye to dinner. In other ways, it’s obvious. It’s waking up with Shaye in my arms and feeling grounded during the day.
I keep waiting for the shine to dull, for the novelty to wear off, but day after day, it’s there. It gets better.
“So, we have some news,” Holt says.
Boone beams. “I found the owner of the property behind the Jewell project.”
I look at him dumbfounded. Then I look at Holt. “Is he serious?”
Holt shrugs. “Apparently so. Legal called and said they’d crafted a proposed contract and said this dipshit sent them the contact information that they couldn’t find.” He looks at Boone. “How? Just … how?”
“Okay, so, I used to fuck this girl—”
“Nope.” I laugh, opening my drawer for a pen to throw at him if he keeps it up. “We get the idea.”
I reach to my right and move my hand around. Instead of finding the hard plastic of an ink pen, I touch something soft. Then something silky. Then the unmistakable shape of a thong.
I don’t have to look down to know the soft pair of panties is pink, the silky ones are red, and the thong is the color of Shaye’s skin.
My cock gets hard. Again.
I shove the drawer closed. When I look up and into Shaye’s office, she’s gone.
My attention goes back to Boone and Holt.
“I didn’t discuss price,” Boone says. “But I know they want to sell—or they will sell if given a solid offer. The old man doesn’t use the property for much anymore, and with the city expanding that direction, he doesn’t figure his only son that fled the city life to Montana will want to come back and do anything with it. ”
“That’s good for us,” I note, pleased. “Good work, Boone.”
He grins like a child. “Thanks, Ollie.”
A knock raps against the door that separates my office from Shaye’s. We all glance in that direction.
“Excuse me,” she says, her gaze lingering on me for a second too long before she addresses my brothers. “Hi, Boone. Holt.”
They say hello and watch her walk toward us.
Instantly, my instincts are on high alert. Something is wrong. Her shoulders are stiff. The smile on her face isn’t genuine. Her steps are short and stressed.
“I have the proposed contracts from legal,” Shaye says, handing a folder to each of us. “An electronic copy is in your emails, as well. Oliver, please don’t forget that you have a call with Greg in ten minutes. I can move that if you would like.”
“It’s fine. We’ll be done by then.”
She nods. “Boone, it’s your wife’s birthday. Please stop and buy her flowers on the way home.”
Boone smacks his forehead with his palm. “Oh, fuck. I forgot.”
“I did not.” Shaye pats him on the shoulder. “You have a reservation for three tonight at six at Picante. I figured you wanted to take Rosie.”
Boone’s hand slides down his face. “You’re serious?”
Shaye laughs. “Yes. But all I can do is make the reservation and remind you to get flowers. You will have to figure out how to wow her yourself.”
Boone hops to his feet. “I need to call Mom.”
“You need to grow the fuck up,” Holt calls after him as he heads for the door.
“Thank you, Shaye! Love you!” Boone calls over his shoulder. Then he stops on a dime and turns. He glances quickly at me and then back to a giggling Shaye. “I was kidding. It was just a natural … You know, you’re like a sister … I’m, um, just gonna stop now.”
“Good call,” I say, wishing I had the pen to throw at him.
Shaye fixes her gaze on me. What the hell?
“I’ll check this contract out and get back with you, Ollie,” Holt says, standing up. “Thanks for the hard copy, Shaye.”
“Of course.”
Holt gives me a curious look like What the fuck is going on here? before exiting. He shuts the door behind him.
I lean back in my seat and take in the woman in front of me. She crosses her arms. She means business.
We haven’t fought or disagreed, really, until now, so I’m not sure how to deal with her. What approach will work best? I have no idea—mostly because I don’t know why she’s pissed.
But she is. That I have little doubt.
I consider telling her that she looks hot as fuck when she’s angry, then think better of it. Instead, I choose to play it off like there’s nothing to be mad about.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, pick something and let’s get this over with.”
This is not the reaction she wants. She drops her arms to her sides.
“Okay, first,” she says, tipping me off that there will, indeed, be a list, “my car was miraculously fixed today when we had lunch.”
I hum.
“Do you know anything about that?” she asks.
“I know that you cannot hold a bumper onto a car frame with zip ties indefinitely. I do know that.”
“Oliver.”
“Yes, Shaye?”
She blows out a breath. “You didn’t even ask me first.”
“You want me to ask you before I do something nice for you?” I raise a brow.
She has to be kidding me. “If that thing fell while you were driving, you would’ve wrecked.
That’s a danger not just to you but also everyone else on the road, my lady.
I’m not going to know it needs repaired and not have it done. ”
Her anger wavers.
“You can’t be mad at me for that,” I say. “It was my civic duty.”
“I will pay you back.”
“The hell you will.”
This relights the fire inside her. “Oliver Mason, you will not start doing this.”
“Doing what, Shaye Brewer? Taking care of you?” I stand and walk around my desk. “You are mistaken.”
She braces herself against a chair, but I don’t go near her. Instead, I walk to the door that opens to the reception room and lock it. Then I close hers and lock it too.
Shaye’s eyes go wide as I face her again. She knows I mean business.
Still, she’s undeterred from her litany of infractions.
Her shoulders straighten. “Second on the list is this.” She tosses a folder onto my desk and then jerks out a piece of paper.
Oh.
I recognize the sheet she’s holding. It’s a cream-colored paper with personal information and tax deductions at the top. The bottom third is a check that I signed yesterday.
Shaye’s first paycheck.
In the rush of the day—Fridays are always the worst—I’d forgotten it was payday. And in the distractions of the week—namely, Shaye—I’d forgotten that I instructed Toni to give her a raise.
A substantial one.
Nothing she doesn’t deserve and nothing that’s out of scale. Executive assistants make this kind of coin. Just usually not a new hire. I don’t need the standard three months to know that Shaye will and already does deserve the higher bracket from what we started her on. Fact.
I blow out a breath.
“What, in the actual fuck, is this?” She shakes the paper in the air. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe.”
“Oliver.” Her body shakes with anger. “Just … explain this to me. Explain what justification you have for paying me …” She looks at the check. “I won’t even say this amount out loud.”
“Google it. It’s not out of line.”
“Not out of line?” The laughter that passes through the air isn’t one of amusement. “If EAs make this much, I want to know what they’re doing to earn it.”
I tuck my tie into my jacket. I don’t go near her just in case.
I’m not completely surprised at her reaction. It might’ve gone over better if it hadn’t dropped on the same day as Leo answered my call to fix Shaye’s car.
“Why don’t you have direct deposit, anyway?” I grumble.
“Because I forgot to set it up. But that’s highly irrelevant.”
“Is it?” I sit. “If you direct deposited that, we wouldn’t be arguing right now.”
She throws the check on my desk. It flutters daintily onto the wood.
“You will call Toni right now and tell her that you made a mistake.” Her tone challenges me to disagree. “Tell her you were drunk or high or that you added a zero where you didn’t mean to. I don’t care. But fix this, Oliver.”
I did. I fixed it by giving her more money. Maybe it’s a lot to her, but it’s not to me. Besides, she’s worth it. She’s great at her job. She takes care of me, Boone, and even things for Holt that she catches in the midst of everything else.
Her potential is through the ceiling, and I would happily pay her this, even if I didn’t have feelings for her.
The fact that I do have serious feelings for Shaye complicates it. So does the hundred-thousand-dollar debt she shoulders.