Page 7 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“This feels like a frickin cloud!” she yells.

“We don’t say that word!” Briar groans.

“I thought it was f?—”

“We don’t sayanyof those words!”

Elara rolls her eyes and disappears once more.

Trying to hide my smile, I gesture for her to sit at my counter and when she does without a fight, I consider it a win.

“Why?” I ask.

Her eyes sear into mine, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking.Not that I usually can, but she usually gives some sort of hint. She’s usually angry. But here, there’s nothing.

“My ex won’t let me get a job.”

I try hard to keep my anger at bay. “What do you mean bywon’t.”

“Won’t as in he sabotages it every time.”

“Why would he do that?”

She shrugs. “He wants control.”

I’ve known of men who do that, and I hate it. Had one of our rookies do it to someone. I corrected him real quick.

“So this job isn’t going to last long, is it?”

She shakes her head, no emotion in her eyes. She doesn’t blink. The little bit of emotion I saw in the hall is gone. Briar Crosby is a brick wall.

“I want you to work for me,” I blurt, mentally slapping myself in the face the second it’s out of my mouth.

“No.”

“Wait a second and listen to me,” I roll my eyes. “I need a personal assistant. Someone who can help me organize my life. Keep things in line. I just need that. It’s not full time. Very part time. And I’ll pay you like you work full time. A very good full time job, might I add.”

She scowls. “I don’t need your charity,”

I level her with a stare, crossing my own arms over my chest. “I’m suspecting Owen doesn’t know a thing about any of this?”

She quirks a brow but says nothing, her shoulders setting.

“You’re too proud to ask him to help you. I’m too proud to hire someone just because I need help. I help you, you help me. We both feel like we’re doing something good for ourselves.”

“I don’t want to move just yet,” she says finally, her fingers curling into fists.

“You don’t have to. I have guest rooms. If your place ishaving issues, I’ll give you a key. Just come here and crash with Elara.”

Her eyes narrow, her jaw setting.

“I won’t have anyone over while you’re here. And there’s locks on the doors. You guys can share a room and lock the door.”

She may think I’m an asshole, but I want her to feel safe. I’m not a threat, but I’m not stupid. I’m a very large man, and a rich one at that. One that could get away with most things.

Except leaving a bar with a woman, apparently.

Men like me get away with lots of horrible things. I get when people are nervous.

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