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“Go crazy,” I say, pulling out a credit card and holding it out for her.
As her lips pull up in the corners, I can’t recall a single time when she’s ever smiled at me. It’s life-changing in how pretty it is.
“I won’t let it interfere with taking care of the boys,” she assures me as she takes the credit card. “I’ll work on this on my off days and after the boys have gone to bed. It’ll be completely separate, and I’ll provide proof of all transactions and receipts.”
“I trust you,” I tell her, noticing a hint of something I can’t identify in her voice as if there’s people who might not have confidence in her. I also feel a hint of something else. Something tells me she might need protection, and there’s no one better than me to do the job.
I clear my throat, knowing I have to put some distance between her and those feelings. It’s bad enough I can see myself being attracted to this woman.
“Speaking of business, if you’ll follow me, there’s some paperwork you’ll need to sign before I introduce you to the boys.”
I wave my hand toward the staircase. “Leave your bags and I’ll grab them in a while.”
Her sandals click over the marble floors as she follows behind me as I lead the way, all the while wondering where her eyes are locked. I know where mine would be if I were trailing behind her with her in that sundress.
I consider toothless Mrs. Prichard as a viable option as I open my bedroom door, instant regret hitting me that I haven’t set up any kind of home office. I should’ve pulled the paperwork from my bedroom after I printed it earlier.
“Will you want me to include this space while I’m furnishing the rest of the house?” she asks as she steps past me and further into the room.
I watch her spin, taking in the newish bedroom suite. Dad brought it to the house before I could officially move in. Although I have no idea where it came from, just knowing it isn’t the bed my best friend and wife were screwing on made it a hundred percent better than what I could’ve had delivered from my house back in Detroit.
“No,” I snap, liking the way she looks with the king-sized bed as a backdrop to her body too much. “This room is off-limits.”
She shrugs as she steps up closer to me, her eyes still drifting over the walls.
“We took a field trip here in high school,” she says. “We were never allowed in any of the bedrooms. Adalynn and I always wondered if that was because they had sex dungeons in here, but now I see that it’s probably because they were just super boring.”
I blink at her, unsure of how I need to respond. Does she wish the bedrooms were sex dungeons? I’m not one to judge nor am I the type to speculate, but she did live in Austin for a while. It sends me right back to her using foul language at the diner, and how much it shouldn’t have turned me on to see her drop that façade for the briefest of seconds.
Unprovoked, my eyes trail down her body. Why didn’t I turn on the lights when we came in here? Why does the sunlight coming in through the window kiss her skin like she’s made from the best parts heaven has to offer?
“Chase?”
I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”
“The paperwork?”
I suck in a deep breath, needing her to sign the paperwork even more now.
“It’s right here,” I tell her, practically diving for the stack on my dresser.
She looks down at the top page when I shove it into her hands.
She blinks up at me. “An NDA?”
“I’m famous,” I tell her as if she didn’t already know.
“And I’d never share anything about you,” she says in a way that makes me feel like an egotistical asshole for even assuming I was worth being a topic of conversation for her. “Pen?”
She signs the paperwork without even reading the damn thing, handing back the top copy to me, and keeping the bottom one for herself.
“I’ll read it later,” she says when I just stare at her. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
As I lead her out of my bedroom, I can’t seem to figure out why it bothers me so much that she seems more interested in looking at the walls than looking at me. With the NDA, I drew the line in the sand. It lines out the expectations—what’s allowed and what isn’t.
I didn’t expect her to argue that we have to maintain a strict boss/employee relationship, but, damn, if she read it, maybe I’d see a little disappointment that there can’t be more in her eyes.
She may be classically trained in interior design like she claims, but I think she took classes on the side on how to cut a man down at the knees.
