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He’s not the kind of guy to make demands. He’s the guy who makes you want to do what he says. The way he worded his text. The way he manhandled me. It’s not about what you want—it’s aboutwhatheneeds. And not in a bad way. He’s the guy who is used to getting what he wants. Even when he had walked into the bar that night, he was friendly, but his presence put the bartender on notice.
Cormac just has that way about himself.
And now, he’s my boss.
He slows and turns down what I had always thought was an unmarked street, but is, apparently, his driveway. Long enough to be a street, though. It winds around some trees until they part and reveal his mansion.
Holy crap, this thing is huge.
I snort a laugh at myself, remembering our one-night stand and when I’d thought the same thing. The mansion is one of those boxy, modern affairs with horizontal wood paneling and cement, all it squares. The windows are tall, running from floor to ceiling. The hedges match, all right angles and harsh. He parks out front, and the kids run inside with their backpacks. But he stands by his car, waiting for me.
Shit. Are we going to talk about it?
I park next to him and grab my purse, trying not to freak out. It’s fine, Lily. We are two grown-ups in a funny situation. Nothing more than that. Take charge of the conversation, so he can’t make it weird. One last deep breath and I get out. “I—
“Thought I should warn you about something before we go in.”
“You have a dozen women chained in the basement?”
He frowns, confused. “What?”
“It’s a joke.”
“How’d you know?”
My stomach flips.
He smirks. “It’s a joke.”
I snort a laugh. “You’re quick.”
“Yeah, you too.” His smirk blows up into a full smile, and I see the man I slept with. I try not to think about that.
“No, I just wanted to let you know, my place is not normally quite so messy. But with the kids around, it’s gotten out of control. I have a housekeeper who comes three times a week, Penny, but even she can’t keep up with them.”
“I don’t mind picking up after them,” I say with a shrug.
“You shouldn’t have to, but if you lend a hand now and then, I’d be grateful. Ready?”
“Sure.” Okay, so we are not talking about it. Cool. Following behind Cormac, I’m distracted again.
He’s in a crisp white button down, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, and his navy trousers cling just right as we climb the stairs. Why is his butt so cute? “Hell of a view, right?”
A half-laugh pops out of me. “Huh?”
But he points ahead. “It’s like ninety percent of why I chose this property.”
And then I see it. The ocean is right there, over the hill. “Oh wow. Yeah, I get it.”
He holds the door open for me. “Welcome to my house.”
Walking through, I’m underwhelmed and overwhelmed at the same time. It’s stunning—the inside took its cues from the outside, all modern and angular. But everything is a shade of gray, and there are far more than fifty. From the floor to the furniture to the ceiling, gray and muted. The windows are the feature, since they show either the ocean or the wooded yard out front. But the living room is shockingly lifeless. Not even a neglected houseplant. This is a single dude’s house, if ever there was one.
“Where’s the mess you spoke of?”
“Right there,” he says, gesturing to the coloring book and crayons next to it on a coffee table. “Plus, their rooms are a horror.”
“Oh.” His standards of cleanliness differ wildly from my own, and now I’m regretting skipping my last bikini wax in the city before our one-night stand. If this is messy, what the hell did he think of me? “Okay.”
