Page 24 of Our Little Cliche
No. Not now.
Not here.
She seems shocked that someone would do such a thing for her, almost confused as to why I did. To be fair, I didn’t thinkmuch of it. I just thought it would make her feel a little less homesick. A welcome gift.
I step towards her, but far enough back so that it doesn’t provoke anymore dick activities. But even at this distance the sensation of towering over her does things to me that I can’t explain.
It’s been six minutes and twenty two seconds since she got here…
“It’s nothing. I’d like to make you feel comfortable and welcome here. I don’t know the first thing about being a boss, let alone being one that lives with his staff. So this is the least I could do to make you feel at home. That’s yours too.” I point to the gift box on her desk. “There’s a MacBook, planner, front door key and a phone. You can use them outside work hours if you want to, they’re yours to do as you please.”
It wasn’t my plan to have her devices linked to mine. To see her precise location, data history, and who she talks to readily available at the tap of a finger. It was Quinn’s idea, actually a requirement. For my safety, I guess. I don’t like the idea of prying on Holly, but then again, something in me seems to.
“Oh, there’s a credit card too?”
“Yes. Whatever expenses you need are taken care of. That way I can work without interruptions when you need to pay for something.”
“Oh, right. Of course, duh. Should I be writing down what your schedules are like, and when you don’t like being interrupted?”
“That’s alright, Miss Cate. No need. I expect most days will differ from the last for the time being. We will just work out a rhythm that suits us both,” I say, tapping my pants for my phone, wallet, and keys.
“Okay. I’m cool with that.”
“I’m going to run an errand as I only had half a day to prepare. I’ll be back later and I can give you a proper tour. Why don’t you set up your space however you like, and if I’m not back by then you could water the herbs. I forgot this morning.”
She sits down, fiddling with the drawers and clicking the pen at her desk. “Yes, sir.”
Once I’ve placed the groceries on the kitchen counter I go back to see how Holly is going. Now the next time she goes back home, she won’t go cold as I dropped off three hessian bags of firewood at her house before I went to the grocer.
Standing on the ladder above me, flicking through the pages of an old, leather-bound novel, not at all aware that I’m staring directly at her perfectly curved ass.
I’m slow to realize that while I’ve been gone, not only has she watered my herb garden, set up her devices and cleaned my desk, she’s also started re-ordering the books by genre,andin alphabetical order by author. They’ve been mismatched since before I can remember, but I hadn’t had the time or patience to rearrange them.
“Wow,” I utter enthusiastically, and I don’t meanwowat the job that she’s done so far, I’mwowingat her behind. It’s going to be the death of me.
“You know, for someone who writes books for a living he sure is a man of few words,” Holly retorts, mimicking what I had said to hear earlier, and smiling over her shoulder.
“She’s smart,anda smart ass.”
“Sorry. My Aussie filter can be a little too much.”
“I beg to differ, seeing asIwas the one who said it first.” I look away for a breath.I need to be more professional thanthis.“I’m shocked. You’ve done well with how quick you’ve gone through the books. You seem… happy in here. Like you’re settled as if you’ve lived here for years.”
What she says next has me admiring her in a whole other way. “How could I not? I feel like Belle from Beauty and the Beast in here. It’s a reader’s dream! I couldn’t stop once I started. Did you know some of these are from the eighteen hundreds?” She slots a book into a gap to fill the space, then inches her feet down each step, slipping on one.
Reacting quickly to open my arms, her body crashes at great speeds against mine. One arm hooks under her knees, with the other wrapped behind her, cupping the side of her breast.
Shit.
With an amused grin at my lips I deadpan, “That’s twice now you’ve fallen,” visually going back to when she fell into me at the bar. As much as I should, I don’t put her down, nor remove my hand from where it is, instead I lose myself in her eyes as they dart between mine.
Put.
Her.
Down.
When my ability to channel my moral compass finally reaches me, I lower her. She sighs deeply when her feet touch the ground, moving her gaze to the floor in a defeated kind of way. “Are you alright?” I ask, perturbed.
