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Logan’s brows arch and the corner of his lip tips up in a cocky smirk. “You sure are,” he murmurs.
My stomach does a flip, my cheeks heat.
He chuckles.
I scoff.
He may be ungodly attractive, but he’s a grade-A prick.
Finally on two feet, I yank my dress down, subtly make sure the girls are tucked away, and dust off my ass. “Starving,” I respond curtly, now that we were at similar heights, though, I still have to crane my neck back to see his face. “Not everyone can go all day without eating like some sort of robot.” Gesturing to the organized chaos surrounding us, I say, “I’m done for the day. I’ll finish this up by Friday.”
Turning my back on him feels akin to looking away from a beast ready to pounce, but I need the reprieve from his penetrating stare. Making my way toward the corner of the room where I’ve stashed my belongings, I throw my heavy peacoat over my red wrap dress and curse the fact that I thought heels would be a good idea in the dead of Colorado winter as I slide my feet back into them.
“Why were you barefoot?” he growls, ignoring my statement about lack of nourishment. My head swings in his direction, causing my long ponytail to whip me in the face. I quirk a brow in question and tip my head in the direction of my ‘workstation’. His lip curls in distaste or disapproval, an expression I’ve seen him make far too many times for my liking today.
A culmination of my exhaustion, irritation, hunger, sexual frustration, and unwanted pervy thoughts about my asshole boss fill me in an instant and Isnap.
Stepping forward into his personal space, my hands find my hips, and I barely contain the urge to stomp my foot as I glower at the dickwad. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, or why you were so against me working here, but you didn’t need to stay all day, grunting and growling like a pissed-off bear. If you don’t want an assistant, you should have fired me and if you don’t want to be here, then leave me to my job and go bark at someone else!”
Logan’s eyes widen, then narrow. His jaw begins to tick, and his pale skin turns a nice shade of red. “And another thing,” I tack on, finally finding all the words I’d stifled today. “If you don’t like the fact that Ihaveto work on the floor, give me a damn desk like a normal boss, you insensitive prick!”
His mouth opens and then snaps shut again. He leans forward and from the corner of my vision, I can see his left-hand twitch and flex like he’s restraining himself. From what? Hitting me? A lump forms in my throat. He wouldn’t, right? It dawns on me then that other than the fact that Logan Huxley is my extremely hot new boss, I don’t know him whatsoever.
But then, my eyes meet his and what I see in them erases every single one of my concerns.
Lust. So much lust.Need.Fiery hot and burning. His bright green eyes reflect exactly what I’m sure he sees in my own eyes. How can I be so attracted to a stranger and want him this badly, even after the silent, tense day we’ve shared?
Logan swallows deeply, his adam’s apple bobs with the movement. His thick, pink lips part beneath his beard, and one word leaves his mouth on a breathy grunt.
“Fuck.”
A rough exhale escapes me and my eyes close of their own will. My body sways, moving toward him without my permission. The heat from his body only inches from my own sears into every available inch of my skin. I feel him lean in, his face nearing mine. His hot breath wafts across my face, smelling sweet, like mints and candy. My hands dart out as if to grab him, pull him in,touch him.
Finally.
They meet...nothing.
Nothing but air.
My eyes snap open just as the office door slams shut.
Chapter Six
“Whatdoyoumean,you can’t fix it?” I cry out, pointing at the destruction that was my living room like my landlord can actually see it through the phone. “This is insane!” The useless jerk continues to prattle on, as though I hadn’t spoken at all. Giving me twenty ridiculous, and likely illegal reasons, as to why the busted pipe can’t be replaced until next week.
“How can you say this isn’t a priority? I don’t understand,” I say, trying for calm and reasonable, instead of screaming like a banshee the way I want to. “How do you expect anyone to live like this? My living room literally has multiple inches of water in it, and all of my belongings are ruined. Thisisan emergency.”
Stepping to the left, my sock-clad foot narrowly misses another puddle. Not that it would matter, the bottoms of my pajamas and feet are soaked through already. My landlord once again ignores me, sounding far less awake than I am right now. Granted, it is the middle of the night, but still, I’m pretty sure this situation warrants getting the hell out of bed and joining the land of the living.
Let me tell you, nothing wakes a person up quite like the sound of your two-hundred-pound dog jumping off your furniture and diving into the lake that used to be your living room. My armchair went flying as she dove from chair to table, barking and howling with glee.
I genuinely thought someone was breaking into my house. I tumbled out of bed and sprinted for my life, wielding nothing but a slipper I’d picked up on the way, only to come quite literallyslidingto a halt as I took in the destruction of my house. Water was trickling through a rather large hole in the wall, opposite my bathroom, which brought on all sorts of freakish questions.
The main one being:“Is it poo water?”
Porkchop couldn’t be bothered by my shouts of panic as she continued to pounce and roll in the questionable water, from an unknown source, before I tossed her outside. If possible, my landlord Harold cared even less. So far, the best solution he can come up with is to just simplyturn off my wateruntil he can get someone out here to fix the damage which apparently, won’t be until next week.
So now, I have a filthy house, where all of my belongings are possibly contaminated with sewer water. An even filthier long-haired, soaking wet dog, who decided to roll around in the dirt outside to cover up her poo-watered coat, and no place to go until things can be repaired.
