Page 2 of Gold Digger
Ollie
Her chocolate brown eyes widened for a moment as they met mine, and I felt the familiar jolt of arousal that seemed to be totally out of control around this woman. And then of course, ofcourse, she fell. I’d never encountered a human being as clumsy as Lottie Forest. Only last week, I’d found her on a fucking stepladder in the living room. When I’d barked “What the hell are you doing?” at her (which, I’ll admit, was probably not the best plan), the ladder wobbled, and I was only just in time to catch her when it crashed to the side.
Holding Lottie in my arms wasnotthe best plan in terms of suppressing this ridiculous attraction to her. The flush on her cheeks, her lips parting in shock and the feel of her soft body against mine, combined with her fresh floral scent, was enough to make me almost lightheaded with lust as all the blood left my brain, heading south. Why the hell this woman with her baggy dungarees, multiple ear piercings, messy caramel hair that was permanently piled on top of her head in one of her colourful scarves, and zero make-up made my body react so violently (not least when I’d felt barely anything for my last put-together, effortlessly sexy, glamourous ex-girlfriend) was acomplete mystery. I’d been so shocked by my visceral reaction that once she’d got her feet on the ground, I’d pushed her away like she was on fire.
“Be more bloody careful,” I’d snapped.
“I wouldn’t have fallen off the blooming ladder if you hadn’t been blustering around shouting at me,” she’d snapped back, and I felt another surge of attraction to her. In general, Lottie was deferential and quiet. Although I regularly noticed some fire behind her eyes, she almost never broke the lowly cleaner persona. Her actually answering me back gave me way too much of a thrill. But after a moment of silence, the colour drained from her face, the fire in her eyes died and she looked down at the floor. “Sorry, sir,” she muttered. “Of course, you’re right. I’ll be more careful.”
I had felt irrationally angry at her sudden compliance, my arms crossing over my chest as I looked down at her.
“Why the hell do you think you need to be up on a stepladder anyway? You clearly don’t have the required coordination.”
Her eyes had flicked up to mine, and for a moment, there’d been another flash of that fire before she closed them and gave her head a quick shake as if to clear it. “There are cobwebs on the ceiling. I was getting rid of them. Your mother said?—”
“You do not work for my mother,” I snapped. “You work forme. No more stepladders.”
She’d taken a step back, her eyes still downcast, and I’d felt my chest tighten at her retreat. Some very basic part of my brain had screamed at me not to allow her to back away. In fact, her backing away had felt all kinds of wrong.
And now she’d fallen again, but this time I hadn’t been near enough to catch her. I made it to her just as she crashed to the wooden floor, landing on one leg and then falling onto her outstretched wrist and her hip, hard.
“For Christ’s sake,” I said as I crouched next to her, concern making my tone unnecessarily harsh. “You are the most accident-prone human being on the planet.” One of my hands went to her shoulder, the other moved to push back her hair that had, for once, escaped from the confines of that ridiculous topknot. She flinched away from the contact, and I felt that crazy sense of loss again as she shuffled back out of my reach. I clenched my jaw in frustration, but when her tear-filled eyes met mine, my stomach hollowed out.
“Hey, sorry,” I said in a softer tone. “I’m being a dick.” Surprise crossed her expression, making me feel like even more of an arsehole. “Listen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, clearing her throat and swiping a tear from her cheek.
“Let me help you up,” I said, offering her my hand.
“I said I’mfine,” she forced out through her teeth, ignoring my hand and then wincing when she tried to push up to standing using the wrist she’d fallen on.
“Lottie, you need—” I reached for her again, but she rolled away, to transfer her weight to her other hand.
“I’mfine,” she said in a stronger voice now. For some reason, she glanced behind her up to the mezzanine for a moment before refocusing on me. “I don’t need any help.”
I held up my hands. “Okay, okay,” I muttered.
“Oliver, are you in here?” We both flinched at the sound of my mother’s voice. “Oh! Lottie, are you quite alright?” Mum said as Lottie used her good hand to get to her feet, trying to mask another wince as she put weight through her ankle.
“No, Mum,” I said. “She’s not alright. She fell down the bloody stairs.”
“Oh golly!” Mum cried, hurrying across the room to where Lottie and I were now standing facing each other. “What rotten luck, darling. Are you okay? Do we need to…?” Mum trailedoff, her gaze focusing on the mezzanine above for a moment. She frowned slightly, her head tilted to the side before her eyes widened and shot to me. I felt my forehead furrow in confusion and was about to turn to look at whatever caught Mum’s eye when she snapped, “Oliver!”
“Yes, Mum?” I asked after a long pause. Mum bit her lip and glanced at Lottie, whose face had paled even more. Mum cleared her throat as she transferred her gaze back to me.
“Er… maybe you should get back to work. I’ll take Lottie to the emergency department.”
“Honestly, I’m fine, Margot,” Lottie put in, her voice high-pitched and more than a little panicked. I scowled. Lottie’s easy familiarity with my mum was in sharp contrast to her stiff formality with me. I’d told her to call me Ollie ages ago, but she still insisted onsir. At least she wasn’t usingYour Graceanymore. “No need for anything like that. Just a couple of bruises.” She smiled despite the pain I could see etched on her features, and I wanted to shake her.
“You’re not fine,” I said, my waning patience making my voice harsh. “You’ve fallen down a set of metal bloody stairs. You should?—”
“Honestly,” she interrupted, taking one of the multitude of hairbands she kept on her wrist and using it to tie up her hair again, clearly favouring her good hand. I was unreasonably disappointed to see the long mass of caramel waves re-confined in its elastic prison. I hadn’t realised how very long her hair was or how it would frame her delicate face. “I’ll just get on if that’s okay.” She started to walk towards her cleaning cart, but when her left ankle almost gave way, she limped along instead.
“Stop,” I snapped, but, as seemed to be typical for her, she ignored me. “I mean it, Lottie. Mum’s right. You need an X-ray of your wrist and ankle.” She pulled the furniture polish out of her basket with her good hand and then hobbled over to thesideboard to start dusting. Fucking dusting. I strode over to her and took hold of her elbow gently, trying to ignore the zing of electricity that shot from her bare skin to my hand. My intention was to support her and help her to the sofa so she could take the weight off her ankle. But the stubborn woman flinched away from me and nearly fell over again.
“Lottie,” I said in a warning tone. “Put the furniture polish down, and let me help you over to the sofa so you can put your foot up.” The pain in her expression was making my chest feel tight. Why was she being so stubborn?
“Your Grace,” she started, and my hands clenched into fists. Great, we were back to theYour Gracebullshit. “I’m perfectly fine. I do not need to put my foot up or have any X-rays. I’d much prefer to finish my shift.”
