Page 6 of Weathering the Storm of the Century

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m here to help you move,” he repeated. “Since you said that you didn’t have much, I figured that I could just do it for you.”

Two seconds ago, I’d been giving myself a lecture on ignoring how gorgeous Cutter Moore was, and now he was at my place, dressed in a black Henley shirt, a pair of dark jeans, looking nothing like my boss, and all I could imagine was his biceps flexing as he lifted the boxes in the living room.

What in the fresh hell?

“I…you didn’t have to do this, Cutter,” I said for a lack of anything better to say.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” he replied easily as he looked behind me into the living room. “I rented an SUV big enough to load those boxes in if that’s all that you have.”

I glanced back over my shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it,” I replied. “Though I do have a bookshelf that needs to be taken apart and stored. A rocking chair, too.”

“Are they sentimental pieces?”

I stared up into his prism-colored eyes, and I felt like Alice in Wonderland with him standing there, insisting on helping me move. “Uhm…no…” I stammered.

“Then I can carry them outside, then call someone to come pick them up,” he stated, taking control like he was used to. “Or we can make two trips. I don’t mind.”

“Well…the mini-storage that I rented-”

“Why’d you rent a mini-storage?”

“Uh…because I haven’t found a place yet,” I told him. “I’ll be staying at a hotel until-”

“Yeah, that doesn’t work for me,” he said, throwing me further into a bout of confusion. “How the hell am I supposed to expect the best from you if you’re living out of a hotel room? I can’t imagine that you’ll be comfortable or have all that you need to be efficient, which is something that is a must if you’re expected to keep up with me.”

“What?”

Cutter waved away my confusion as he walked into my house uninvited. “We’ll just move your stuff to my place until we can find you an affordable apartment,” he announced, clear signs of dementia upon him. “Moore Industries has a real estate division and owns several rental properties, so we can see if there’s anything currently available.”

I shut the door on instinct as I turned to look at him. “Are you high?” The man arched a brow, and I grimaced with how inappropriate that was. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I just…I can’t stay with you, Cutter.”

“Why not?”

I could feel my eyes widen. “Because you’re my boss.”

“And you hold a position that requires your availability twenty-four-hours a day,” he reminded me. “In fact, living with me sounds like the perfect solution to our work relationship.”

He was insane.

He had to be.

“So, all your previous assistants lived with you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Lucy’s husband would never have approved such a thing.”

Cutter Moore was absolutely out of his mind. “So, now that I’m single, you think it’s appropriate for me to live with you?”

He shrugged like this wasn’t complete madness. “Look, you need a place to stay, and I need to know that you’re safe and available to do your job. Staying with me sounds like the perfect solution.”

I straightened to my full height, which wasn’t much. “Cutter, if I stay with you, people are going to think that we’re sleeping together.”

The man shot me a look. “How long have you worked for me, Merritt?”

“Two years.”

“When have I ever given you the impression that I give a fuck what people think or say about me?” he questioned, and the answer was obvious to both of us.

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