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Chapter One
Kenzie
‘Exhibit A’ of why book men are better than real men… book men always know what to say to make things right. Real men stand there staring at you like you have two heads.
I’m currently staring at a real man. Though, I wish he were a book man. Particularly speaking, the hero from the book I’m currently reading, ‘Coming Undone.’ I can’t remember who wrote it, but it’s this sexy-hot story about a woman who’s down on her luck. One lonely night she’s out looking through trash cans for food and she runs across this ultra handsome hero with an eight pack and massive biceps who wants to make all her dreams come true. Of course, he’s a secret billionaire, has a huge dick, and he thinks she’s covered in some heavenly halo. This woman can do nothing wrong. Last chapter, she lost his favorite pair of cufflinks, a family heirloom. He shrugged it off and flew her to Paris to fuck in fields of fresh lavender.
I guess that’s a fantasy for a reason, right?
Drawing in a deep breath, I run the numbers on what happens next. Not in the book, but in real life, with this real man that’s staring at me like prey he’s about to destroy. Granted, I just knocked over the coffee can with his dog’s ashes off the woodstove.
Trust me, I know I’m in the wrong, but book man would check me over to see if I was okay. Then, he’d help me clean the ashes, and we’d spend the afternoon building a custom box that was better than the original because it was his fault in the first place. At least that’s what he’d tell me because he wouldn’t want me to feel bad.
Real man doesn’t look as patient, or as understanding.
He’s just as hot, though. Maybe even hotter than book man. His giant frame leans against the back wall of the small cabin and he stares at me with a dialed focus. He wears a tight, grey t-shirt showing sleeves of dark ink and he has a scar across the left side of his neck. He might be a beast, but he’s an attractive one.
“I’m so sorry. I was dusting, and it was an accident.”
He drags in a deep breath. “You were dancing around and being careless.”
My heart squeezes. Okay… I feel bad enough already, buddy.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have been dancing. I—”
“I’ll clean it up. You go finish the kitchen.” His tone is low and graveled.
I knew this guy was a grump when I met him, but I figured he’d be the endearing kind. I guess that was me transferring book man onto real man again. Turns out, real grumps are just grumpy. I should’ve known something was off about him when he followed me to two different stores before finally asking me if I was looking for work.
Who does that?
It’s like he knew how desperate I’ve been for work.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I turn toward the fridge to see who’s calling. It’s my sister, Iris. She’s been stressing out over this situation she’s gotten herself into. She wants to start a thing with our brother’s best friend, Cooper. I don’t know what to tell her. The dude is old, and we all have this history with him. The whole thing would be majorly complicated.
Knowing the giant doesn’t like me taking calls on the clock, I send her to voicemail and continue to scrub the dishes.
“Popular girl today,” he groans, sweeping up the ashes I so carelessly spilled.
“It’s my sister, Iris. Sorry.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Two of them. Iris and Collette. A brother, too. We’re all close. Do you have any siblings?” I’ve been working for the beast for the better part of three weeks, and this is the first semi-real conversation we’ve had.
“A brother, Austin, and a sister, Polly.”
I grin. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Your brother is Austin. I keep forgetting that. You don’t have the same accent.” Austin married my friend, Dolly, last month. I was in their wedding. The one thing that sets Austin apart from a lot of guys up here is his accent. It’s very southern and Dolly loves it.
“He sounds ridiculous,” James groans. “I taught myself to talk right.”
I bite back laughter. “Talk right? Why doesn’t Austin talk right? It’s just an accent. Everyone has one. You have one too, and so do I.”
He goes back to the ashes, ignoring my reasoning. I should’ve seen that coming. He doesn’t seem like the type who likes to be challenged.
“I saw the military flag up there. What branch did you serve in?” I’m working while I talk, which I don’t think is against the rules, but given the day we’re having, who knows?
He glances up at the flag then back down at the ashes but doesn’t say anything.
