And by little party, I mean donuts and kolaches thatIhave to pick up on my way to work. If there's anything else I hate more than talking on the phone, it's going in anywhere there's people.
Like the donut shop that stays open every day of the year and is always crowded with customers because they have no drive through.
Joy.
Jugglingmypurseandsix warm boxes of baked goods, I blindly grab for the door.
"Oh, good morning, Mercy! Let me get the door for you. That's quite the handful!" The words come from my right. Eliza's smiling eyes meet mine over the stack in my arms. She's about my age, but much more outgoing and friendly to strangers than I am (which is good for an office manager). My complete opposite in looks, too. Tall where I'm short, thin where I'm thicker, and blonde hair to my black.
I've got to give her credit—she tries every day to engage me in conversation, but it's just so difficult for me to talk to people. I still appreciate her effort, though.
"Thanks, Eliza. Yeah, my car is going to smell like a bakery for days."
Walking through the open door as she holds it, I head to the break room right off the entrance and ease the food onto the counter. A mixed box for each of them because growing boys have to eat. I only got enough for the foremen because the crew never really come here on Friday, anyway. Especially on the last one of themonth, because that’s when the foremen discuss and plan the current and upcoming projects.
"How are you today?" I ask politely over my shoulder as she follows me.
As far as managers go, Eliza is pretty great. Jobs were scarce when I moved here last year, but I lucked out when she hired me at Shay Construction and started my pay at a figure higher than advertised.
An incentive, I was told.
Apparently, all the women who had the job before me quit unexpectedly. One eloped, one just didn't show up, and one got pregnant. Since I don't plan on doing any of those things, I'm here for the long haul. Especially at this pay rate.
Eliza flashes a grin. "Girl, I'm counting down the minutes untilnoon. So beyond ready for the weekend. Here—let me get that."
Between the two of us, everything gets set up on the break room table in short order. She may not have a need for things to be straight and at specific angles like I do, but she’s certainly efficient. Eliza nods toward the paper plates and boxes laid out in a row. "How much do you want to bet they’ll all come running as soon as you open those up?"
My lips curve a bit because it’s true. These guys have the noses of bloodhounds. Sure enough, within moments of the first box opening, they traipse in one by one, each with amornin’, ladiesmumbled towards Eliza and me.
All except the last one. Amos Shay, owner of Shay Construction. Devilishly handsome man with blue eyes and inky black hair flecked with silver. He's so ruggedly beautiful that it almost hurts to look at him. My heart thumps in anticipation the closer he gets. Almost goes into cardiac arrest at his deep voice when he stops right infront of meand rumbles, "Mercy."
That’s all he says. Just my name. His voice is gravelly and deep. So deep. The depth that sends chills down my spine and tingles to my nipples.
Yeah. Thatgoodkind of deep.
"Mr. Shay. Got your favorite kolaches.Boudain. I put your b-box on the other side of the drinks."Gah, why did I stutter?I don't, normally. There's just something about Amos Shay that makes my heart flutter and my throat dry up.
His icy blue gaze catches on my lips before traveling upwards. "Thanks, Mercy. That was...sweet...of you."
My breath stutters as an awkward reply catches in my throat. Did he just emphasizesweet?We stare at each other in heavy silence, a bubble forming around us as the conversation in the crowded break room fades away. It’s overwhelming having him this close to me with his cologne that’s intoxicating enough to send a flood of hormones rushing through me. If he keeps climbing into my soul like this with his masculine scent drowning my senses, I’m going to faint. His eyes drop back down to my lips and stay there. Oh, God…I have something on my mouth, don’t I? My tongue nervously darts out and does a quick pass, just to make sure.
Amos inhales sharply."Mer—"
A hairy arm thumps across his shoulder, breaking our bubble. Rapidly blinking, I take a small step back and try to recover from that weirdly intense moment.
It's Wyatt, good old country boy with a country drawl that saturates every word. "How 'bout it, old man? Retiring at fifty?Gonnabe time for your first knee replacement soon. Hope you got some money stashed away for that!" A hoot of laughter falls out of him at his own slapstick joke.
"Fifty?" Amos scoffs lightheartedly, smirking as he grabs aboudainkolache from the box I'd angled perpendicularly to the refrigerator and biting into it. "Still a few years away from fifty, and nothing wrong with my knees, either. Any more jokes,old man?Better get all your cracks in now'causetoday's the last day. Next week, you'll have to pile them all on Garrick."
"Yeah. That Garrick's a good fella. Got some mighty big shoes to fill, though, coming after you. Well, better grab me one of them cream donuts before they run out." With another friendly slap to Amos's shoulder, Wyatt heads to the boxes, leaving our bubble to slowly form again.
Okay, I'll admit my curiosity is piqued. He must have done extremely well for himself if he can afford to retire already.He doesn't look fifty, but he's no teenager, either. His face is too rugged and weathered with the kind of tan that only comes from working outside in the heat of the sun.
Sexy, if you ask me.Which he didn't.But still.
Being 6'5" and ripped doesn't hurt, either. Top it off with those arctic eyes and a thick head of hair, and he's quite the catch.I wonder if he's dating anyone?
Nope. None of my business.
