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He chuckles, but doesn’t move. I can feel the heat of his body practically pressed against my back. It takes everything I have to not lean into his massive body. But this is Latham, I have to remind myself. The devil himself, and he’s probably using all of his sexual wiles to get under my skin.
It’s working…
No, it’s not!
“I’ll see you soon, Sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips grazing ever-so-slightly over the back of my neck. I shiver instantly. He places a scrap of paper in my hand, but I make no movement to see what it says. I’m not sure I want to know.
“Stop calling me that,” I reply, my own voice a little raspy.
“Never,” he says loudly, as he finally moves past me, and heads to the door. Without saying a word, he waves at Free and slips through the entry, pulling it tightly secure as he goes.
“Damn, that was hot. Did you just orgasm?” Free asks, her eyes wide with shock and excitement.
“What? No!”
“You didn’t? I just about did watching. He sooooo wants you,” she coos.
“Shut up,” I grumble, ignoring the slight bubble of excitement that seems to plant firmly in my chest at the prospect.
Free laughs, making herself useful while I check out my new laptop. The software is completely installed, and the moment I move the mouse to waken the screen, a password authorization pops up.
Password?
I type in my first name. Nothing. I add my last name. Still doesn’t work. I try the name of my store, but that gets denied too. I start to get a little irritated – okay, a lot irritated – as I try word after word after word. Nothing works. Leave it to Latham to password protect my new laptop and not tell me what the magic word is, the infuriating, frustrating, pig-headed man!
I’m just about to call Free over for help when I think about that little slip of paper he placed in my hand. I didn’t want to give it a thought before, but now? Now, I find myself digging into the pocket of my shorts and pulling it out. His handwriting is horrible, yet familiar, as I glance down at the single word scrolled across the pink Post-It.
He didn’t.
I type that word into the password box and click enter.
My home screen immediately appears, and so does my smile. Leave it to Latham to force me to type out that one word multiple times a day. That word I hate, yet secretly love at the same. That single word I will forever associate with the man who could drive a nun to drink and turn to prostitution.
Sweetheart.
* * *
When I leave the store a few hours later, I notice Latham’s truck still parked in front of the hardware store and a few lights on within. He’s been there since he left my business, probably catching up on his own weekend work. I’m sure he has a lot to learn if he’s going to take over the helm of the family company by the end of next month. I know he worked at the hardware store while in high school, but he left so quickly before college for the Army and hasn’t been back since.
I make a rash decision; one I’m probably going to regret in the long run.
I buzz across the street to the diner and order two specials to go, along with two large sweet teas. I don’t know if he still drinks tea, but it’s sort of a staple down in the South, so I’m guessing it’ll be fine. When the food is ready and placed in a white bag, I head back across the street and knock on the door. The first time, he doesn’t hear me, so I knock a little louder the second time.
Latham appears from the back office I know is his dad’s, a concerned and surprised look on his face. When he unlocks the door, he asks, “Is everything all right? Is the laptop giving you troubles?”
“No,” I state, clearing my throat. “I was leaving work and noticed you were still here. It’s dinnertime, so I thought I’d grab you a bit of food.” I hold up the bag, practically thrusting it into his chest.
“You bought me dinner?”
“I bought myself dinner and since you were still here, grabbed a second order. They were having a sale, actually. Buy one, get one free. It was free.”
A smile crests his lips. “Aww, if you wanted to have dinner with me, all you had to do was ask.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, pushing past him and stepping inside his family business.
I can hear him chuckle as he locks the door and follows me into the office. The desk is covered in a few catalogs for product, as well as what looks like a blueprint design for construction. Latham swiftly swipes it away, rolling it up and throwing it on the table behind the desk. He makes quick work at clearing off a spot to set the food down and takes the container holding our two teas from my hand. “Sit,” he directs, motioning the chair beside me.
“No, I can see you’re busy. I’ll just take my food home and eat.”
