Page 4 of Three Rugged Bosses and a Clueless Girl

What the heck was wrong with her universe? One minute, it was paving her way to peace and happiness; the next, it was trying to kill her. Man!

“Dammit, girl. Do you want to get yourself killed?” The harsh, growly voice belonged to Marc Johnson, whose face was so furious that he looked like a demented but striking mythical god.

He pulled her toward him, ripped off his safety helmet, put it on her head none too gently, took her hand, and dragged her toward their site offices.

After stumbling more than once in her unaccustomed high shoes over the uneven terrain but not making contact with hard ground since Marc just pulled her up like a rag doll she stopped worrying that she was going to split her face on the rocky ground.

When she stumbled, Mark just pulled her up and carried on with his angry, wide stride as if nothing happened.

When they entered the site offices, he flung her inside and shut the door with a loud bang that rattled her ears. She immediately became aware of Jake and Evan at their desks, who stood up and looked at her as if she were an alien in a pink skirt.

As a trio, their presence imbued her with the weirdest kinds of sensations. It was nerves. She was nervous.

The overly big helmet hung over her eyes, and she saw nothing until she lifted it up, only to find the three men in worn-out jeans and T-shirts, arms crossed over their wide chests, as they now stood beside each other, scowling at first her attire and then her face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Michelle? And do you want to die?”

Here it goes.

"Okay, hear me out,” she began. “I heard you were looking for a new PA, and I’m her. I’m perfect for the job of being your PA, and I can prove it.”

Okay, so she had no idea what being their PA entailed, but she guessed bringing them coffee and taking care of their dry cleaning would be it.

“So, is this where I sit?” she asked, pointing to a vacant desk o. She placed her tote on the table and was just about to sit down.

“The hell you are,” Evan said, coming toward her, wrapping a hand around her arm, and placing her back on her feet before she got to sit down. He then immediately dropped his hand from her as if she had burned him.

“Just give me a chance. Please. One day. I’m hard-working. I’m a fast learner and quick thinker.” She was exaggerating the truth a little, but it was all for a good cause—her fingers and possibly her life. She did reiterate one thing in her mind, though: Of all the people who could know what a stupid thing she had done to take money from a loan shark, the absolute last people on earth she wanted to know were the three men standing in front of her, seconds away from tossing her ass out.

She couldn’t bear them thinking she was stupid and it really shouldn’t bother her as much as it did.

She glanced at them with pleading eyes. Also, what happened to all the air in the room? Why was she suddenly so hot? She blew out a breath and tried again.

“One chance to prove myself. If I don’t do everything you tell me to do on time and with 100% precision, you can fire me, and I will leave without any fuss. I swear.” She placed her hand over her chest.

They didn’t even take the time to consider her words before they delivered their answer in unison.

“No.”

Chapter Four

No. No. No. No.

Their answer was supposed to be a resounding yes. She had envisioned it, dammit.

“Please,” she said softly. “I need this job. My life is a mess. No one will hire me because I have no work experience.” She could hardly demand a chance to prove herself when they said no.

“And Jisno, my arch nemesis, who owns his own food truck and thought I was going to take over his business, badmouthed me to every restaurant within a 100-mile radius, saying that I couldn’t really cook.” Arg. Jisno. He had given her a hard time when she opened her food truck, came to sample her gourmet burgers, and told her they tasted like cardboard. He was probably the happiest person on the planet when her food truck exploded. “Give me a chance, please; that’s all I’m asking.”

“How much do you need?” Jake asked, his voice a mixture of velvet and gravel together.

“What?”

“How much money do you need to get back on your feet again?”

“I don’t need your money. I mean, I do, but I have pride, and I’d prefer to work for it, so let me work for you. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do.”

“Still no. Give us an amount, Michelle.” Marc’s rough voice pricked her skin like tiny little needles. Dammit, she forgot to take an antihistamine last night, which explained everything that was happening to her body.

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