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I love listening to Claire talk business. It’s sexy as hell. She knows every inch of this place, right down to the location of every single electrical socket. She struts around the brewery with her head held high and her binder in her arms.
Actually, no. Her binder is in my arms because she was having trouble talking with her expressive hands, so she shoved it into my chest and now just keeps leaning up beside me and flipping through to the pages she needs. Like I said, sexy.
Andre, the contractor I brought in and an old friend of mine, is enthralled with her. He’s captivated, watching her with a big smile on his face as she gestures wildly around her when she talks, and I catch him sneaking a peek at her backside more than once. It looks fantastic, so I can’t blame him, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to knock his eyes elsewhere.
Claire’s teasing me with her outfit today; I just know it. She’s wearing skin-tight black pants with thin white stripes that hug every curve of her hips and ass. The black shirt tucked into the waist of her pants also appears to be painted on. It’s long-sleeved and a fucking mock turtleneck, of all things. She’s not letting me see an inch of that glorious, creamy skin, and the smirk that’s etched on her face every time she catches me staring tells me she’s getting immense pleasure from it.
She’s not even wearing heels. She’s got on these little pointed slip-on flats, so all I can see is her ankles. I don’t even know what color her toenail polish is today. That bothers me more than it should.
Still, she looks fucking magnificent, skin or no skin.
“So.” I clap my hands together. “What’s the verdict, Andre?” I lean against the wooden counter and we both watch Claire as she hops on top and starts swinging her legs.
Andre smiles, his gaze lingering on her a moment too long, and then turns to me, eyes twinkling. He clears his throat and raps his knuckles on the counter. “I can definitely beat the other quotes. Gimme a couple days to get a proposal together for you.” He turns back to Claire and leans next to her. “That okay with you, sweetheart?”
My jaw snaps together as I swallow my groan.
Claire beams up at him. “That’s perfect! Thank you so much, Andre.” She squeezes his arm for good measure. I glare at her. She glares right back. I wonder if it’s punishment for leaving her high and dry last night, even though she wasn’t dry. High and wet? Nah, doesn’t sound right.
Her phone starts vibrating on her binder, which I’m still holding like a sucker. I hand it to her and watch her tug on her bottom lip while she reads the message.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, hopping down from the counter. “I’ve gotta run.” She tilts her head toward the window, drawing our attention to a large truck pulling around the side of the L-shaped building. “We’ve got a delivery coming in and I need to speak to the driver.” She turns to Andre and touches his shoulder. “I look forward to hearing from you.” Then she looks at me and smirks, inclining her chin ever so slightly. “Mr. Beck.”
She turns on her heel and walks away from us, hips sashaying side-to-side as she goes. Goddamn woman has me in a trance.
Andre lets out a low whistle. “Shit, she’s fine.”
“Back off,” I growl at my old friend.
His brows raise and an amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Yours?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see why I would need to back off.” His eyes challenge me, just like his tone.
“Because I told you to, that’s why.”
He considers me carefully before a shit-eating grin splits his face in half. “You like her.”
Well, I’ve had enough of that. I straighten off the counter and amble out of the kitchen. Andre follows as I guide him toward the door.
“I’ll be waiting on that quote, my friend.”
“Uh huh.” He gives me one last look, still grinning like an asshole, before he shakes his head and strolls through the door, his next words floating out behind him.
“Avery Beck, the man who never settles for any woman, has feelings. Who woulda thought?”
***
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Claire
I’m freaking out this morning. On the inside, at least. On the outside, I look cool, calm, and collected. I also probably look hot as hell. I mean, literally roasting, because this outfit is not made for this weather.
I tug on the collar of my mock turtleneck with annoyed frustration. The things I’ll do to get a rise out of this freaking man.
Anyway, back to what I was saying before. On the outside, I’m fine. On the inside, I feel like someone’s throwing rocks at all my major organs. Or that time I got drunk and thought it was reasonable to eat five Crunchwrap Supremes. In theory, it sounded like a great night. It was not.
