Page 5 of Hidden Hearts

The jerk doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic!

Reason #—what number am I on? Because this list is fucking endless.

CHAPTER FOUR

DOMINIC

The curvy little spitfire’s glare could roast me alive.

Avery, that’s the name Mike used, and I roll it around in my mind as I fight to get my body back under control. But if she’s going to put her breasts on display, I am sure as hell going to take advantage of the view.

I forced myself to ignore her curves earlier, choosing to mess around on my phone rather than gawk at the unexpected beauty before me. Who knew Mike’s prickly employee would be so damn alluring?

“Did you forget something?” Her cold words do nothing to make me feel bad about checking her out. If anything, it makes me want to melt that wall of ice she erected.

“Clearly, I forgot to request a view the first time.” My eyes drop pointedly to her chest again.

“Excuse me?” Avery crosses her arms, which does the opposite of what she wants and emphasizes her lush tits even more.

“I’m returning Mike’s key,” I say, rather than repeating myself. The silver metal reflects the overhead lights from its position between my thumb and pointer finger.

“I’ll take it.” Our hands brush briefly before Avery jerks back, and I grit my teeth at her reaction.

I’m not fucking toxic.

Someone enters the store and without a word, she steps around me to greet them. I hate being ignored, especially when Avery transforms into a different person for the stranger—all sunshine and smiles versus the ice queen.

It shouldn’t bother me since I barely know the woman. I’ve got bigger problems to deal with than a feisty hellcat, but damn if I can resist the challenge she presents. It’s been a long while since a woman’s captured my interest. I’d almost forgotten how exhilarating the push/pull between a man and a woman could be.

My phone vibrates with a call from Matt—proving that I have no business standing here covertly watching Avery pluck a couple of caps off a rack by the door and offer them to an older gentleman. Dragging my feet towards the door, I grimace when Avery stiffens as I pass by.

Like I’m a fucking pariah whose mere touch will contaminate her.

***

Matt and I decided to grab dinner at Daffodil’s a few days later to discuss our next steps, since Stone Precision will have roots planted in Suitor’s Crossing soon.

After touring the dusty dregs leftover from its previous tenant, Mike and I negotiated the terms of the lease, including him paying for a service to clean the space before we moved in. He apologized for the less-than-pristine shape of the office—blaming a hectic schedule—but it didn’t bother me as long as it was taken care of before Stone Precision took over. The office had the best bones and location of any place I toured, so I could afford to be a little forgiving of its current state.

"Hopefully, you'll be able to get the office in shape for opening by yourself, since I'm leaving for Houston after the lease is signed. Then I have presentations in San Francisco and Atlanta," Matt says, swirling a fry in his cup of garlic aioli before popping it into his mouth.

"I'll be fine. It just needs our desks and computers. Maybe a few chairs."

He laughs like I said something ridiculous. "Yeah… That's all it'll need." His tone throws me off.

“What? You think I’m wrong?”

He shrugs as he takes a bite of his burger. “All I’m saying is we want this to look professional, right? Welcoming. That might take more than a few desks. We need to set aside space for a waiting area. Fill it with fancy shit, you know?”

Above the heads of other restaurant-goers, a riot of curls catches my eye. Avery. She weaves her way towards an old lady sitting at the bar. With pastel pink hair and glasses attached to a beaded chain, the woman looks to be in her eighties. Is that Avery’s grandmother? Great-aunt?

“Fancy shit, huh?” I study Avery as an idea begins to form. “Something an interior designer could set up.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

This is why Matt and I work well together. Sometimes he’s able to see the whole picture while I’m stuck nitpicking details.

"I’ll head down to Everton Friday or Saturday. Hopefully, I’ll have our new designer by then, and we can make headway on what else the office might need." I make a note in my calendar, although I hardly need a reminder to talk to Avery—no matter how hard I’ve tried, she hasn’t been far from my thoughts this week. Not after the way she worked her way under my skin.

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