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Looking over the stacks of papers, I notice the wide variety of sticky notes, folders, and highlighters set up in a neat row where she’d been working. There’s even a little machine with a tiny keyboard on it. On closer inspection, I realize the piles of crap aren’t random at all. She’s organized everything by some system I would have never thought to create, complete with sticky notes and labels.
I glance back at Shiloh, finding her already watching me, waiting for my decision. I don’t know a single fucking thing about her, other than the fact that she’s beautiful beyond words and she’s got a body I’d happily kill to worship. She obviously knows what she’s doing.
Stephen must have a good reason for hiring her. He may be a dick, but he’s business savvy, and he cares about Huxley Homes. He wouldn’t hire just anyone off the streets.
I don’t like to spend time in this building, nor do I like people in my space or business, but I can admit Shiloh would probably be helpful to have around. There’s no doubt the office needs a massive amount of organization to get back in working order, and the entire building could do with some TLC.
But, as my eyes rake down her perfect, thick body once more, I know damn well that’s not why I answer the way I do.
“Fine, you can stay.”
Chapter Five
Thisisn’thowIthought my second day at my new job was going to go and I’ve yet to decide if the change in direction is good, or bad.
When Stephen brought me to the beautiful Huxley Homes building yesterday, I’d been impressed to say the least. I’ve only lived in Blue River for a few years, having moved here to be closer to the school, but even in that short time, I’d heard about the infamous Huxley Homes masterpiece. It far exceeded any preconceived ideas I’d had.
Stephen was as sweet and easygoing as he’d been the other night as he introduced me to their world. He told me how everything in the business runs, gave me a tour, and outlined my duties. I was excited to get started and I’d prepared for just about anything that could be thrown my way.
Or so I had thought.
Yesterday, Stephen explained that Logan spends most of his time at the job sites and that he wouldn’t be in the office this week. So, when a hulking, bearded mountain man threw the door open, his body poised and ready for a fight, I genuinely thought I was being attacked. It didn’t help that he immediately, and openly, devoured my body before even having the decency to introduce himself.
After he’d decided I could stay, he barely spoke. I honestly thought he would leave or call and tell Stephen to handle me. I wouldn’t put it past the grumpy bastard honestly. Surprisingly, he stayed, asked me what I needed help with, gave a curt nod, and then went to work. That was six hours ago, and the man’s barely said more than a handful of words beyond grunts and growls since.
On more than one occasion, I’ve caught him checking me out. Openly and unabashedly. Every single time, my body heats up in a way I’ve never felt before. I should be embarrassed that he clearly saw all my goodies on display this morning. Maybe even angry that he stared for so long, but I feel neither of those things. I don’t know what it is about him, but I find his apparent appreciation for the way I look satisfying.
Maybe it’s because I can’t stop checking him out either. He’s just so…so…
So fucking hot.
Logan Huxley is hands down, the most attractive man I have ever met in my life. There’s no other way to describe him. Well, that’s not true. There are lots of ways I could describe the man: asshole, prick, short-tempered, growly, gorgeous,flannel wearing-buff-bearded-lumbersnack…
At the thought, I sneak another peek at him while his back is to me. He’s wearing well-worn jeans that fit him like a glove, hiding nothing and showing off his thick thighs and bubble butt. He has an ass that no man has any right to have, and any woman would kill for. Every time he bends over to pick something up, a wave of arousal pools low in my belly. My pussy has been wet and achy all day and I honestly don’t know what to do with myself at this point. The feeling only gets worse as I continue to stare.
Logan is tall, towering well over my 5’7 frame. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s at least 6’3, if not taller. His frame is wide, and I can tell, even through his thick flannel, that he’s built and muscular. Much like Stephen, Logan has bright red hair that has a slight curl to it, but beyond that, the two men couldn’t be more different.
With just one look at Logan, it’s obvious that he’s used to being outside and doesn’t shy away from a hard day's work. He’s rugged, buff, and his overall appearance borders on unkempt. His hair is wild and messy, his beard is thick and overgrown, his hands are calloused, and his clothing is wrinkled.
Logan is all man. Every single delicious inch of him is a treat to look at. From his bright green eyes, freckled cheeks, and nose, down to his huge, boot-clad feet that for some odd reason, make me think very inappropriate thoughts. His whole body is large and every time I see his boots, all I can think is,I wonder if a man’s shoe size really matches his dick.
My ex isn’t the only man I’ve ever been with. I’ve seen my fair share of cocks, but something about Logan screams that sex with him would be different. Better. More intense.
“Here,” he grunts, as he drops another stack of folders next to my makeshift work area, sending my color-coordinated highlighters flying. I barely contain a screech of irritation.
My gaze darts up to meet his, ready to tell him off, but when our eyes meet, my heart stutters in my chest and my angry words die on my tongue. I’d barely just gotten control of my sweaty palms in the last ten minutes, but one uttered word and access to his intense green eyes, has the nasty habit starting up again.
Clearing my throat, I rack my brain for any sensible, intelligent thing to say, but come up with nothing. It makes no sense. This is so unlike me. One of the things Cole complained about most was how much I talk. It annoyed him that I could, and often did, spark up conversations with any and everyone. However, apparently that skill has completely left the building because right now, I can barely form more than two syllables.
Groaning internally, I glance down at the progress I’ve made with past contracts and work orders and decide to call it a day. A quick look at the clock on the wall solidifies the decision. I’ve been here for over ten hours, and not only am I exhausted, but starving. I skipped lunch, too nervous to bring it up in Logan’s presence. Not because I’m afraid to eat in front of the man, but because speaking sentences seemed completely impossible at the time. How he worked straight through lunch, and now dinner, I have no idea. The man looks like he lives off an IV drip of protein powder.
As if to agree with my decision, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. Logan’s head shoots in my direction and I wince under his scrutiny. His eyes track down my body, homing in on my stomach, as though he’s checking to see where the sound came from.
“Hungry?” he snaps like he finds my lack of food offensive. My head rears back and I suddenly despise the fact that I’m still sitting on the floor below him.
Gritting my teeth, I adjust my dress and as classily as one can, I crawl to my knees in an effort to rise without flashing my new, sexy boss, my panties. Logan watches me like a predator hunting for his next meal. Instead of helping me up as a gentleman should, he tilts his head like he’s trying to catch a peek at my panties.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine.” I drawl, my voice thick with sarcasm.
