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“Backed what up?”
He turned his head toward me. His gaze traveled the length of my body then back up to my face. An action I should have found distasteful, but for some odd reason, I was flattered he blatantly checked me out.
“Your files.”
“Oh, um, my company has a server thing I think. Something that is supposed to handle all of that.”
“How often?”
“What do you mean?”
“How often does it do an auto back up? Hourly? Daily? Weekly? Different services handle it in various ways.”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I dropped my head forward and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Shit.”
He stood and picked up my computer. “It’s all good. I got you, Ma.” He started walking toward the stairs, and I scrambled behind him.
“Where are you going?”
“My office.”
At the top of the stairs, he took a right and walked into a room that made me pause. His office looked like some sort of command center I’d seen on spy shows. A mega console thing with dual monitors was placed against the wall to the right. To the left of it stood one of those tool organizers normally found in a garage. Flanking the other side was a storage rack that held various computers. On the wall by the door was a second smaller desk with a larger, curved monitor that looked more like a small TV and a computer tower that glowed like some sort of sci-fi, space-aged contraption. I’d been desperate when I came over here, and maybe shouldering a little guilt for being bitchy toward him, but, shit, he wasn’t playing around.
I took a seat on the edge of the gray futon in the corner, pressed my hands between my knees, and watched him go to work. He put his thick locks up into the man-bun he normally wore and slipped on a pair of glasses. I tilted my head. Why did glasses suddenly make him hotter? I shook off the thought. I needed to stop being distracted by his looks and pray to the universe he could fix my laptop.
A ton of questions sat on my tongue. I wanted to know what he was doing, if it would help and how long it would take. A
ny time I had to deal with company tech support, everything seemed to take days, if not weeks. Though I suspected they moved slower with me just to be assholes. Either way, I kept quiet.
“You love Pi,” he said, breaking the silence for me.
“Huh?”
He indicated toward my shirt. I pulled it away from my body and glanced down.
“Oh. Yeah. Math humor.” I added with a shrug.
Emilio swiveled in his chair and stared at me full-on, attention-stealing smile firmly in place, shook his head, and went back to work. Intense and focused. So not what I’d built up in my head as impulsive and chaos. Before I could go too far down that train of thought, he turned, took off his glasses, then linked his arms behind his head, and spread his legs wearing a large grin.
“You are free to start now.”
I frowned. “Start what?”
“Your worshipping,” he replied with a wink.
I rolled my eyes as I walked toward him. He pushed out of the way so I could see that he had, in fact, brought it back to life. With all my files intact. “Well, fuck me.”
“Okay. I mean I do believe in customer service and all.”
I turned just as he whipped his shirt over his head.
My heart rate spiked. “No. Wait. What?”
His hands were on the waistband of his shorts. A sly smile tugged the corner of his mouth upwards. He couldn’t be serious.
I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms. Keeping my hands safely tucked away would stop my desire to trace along the contours of his tattoo. “It’s just an expression. Do you go around having sex with all your clients?”
“Nah, you’d be the first.”
