Page 11 of Butterflies and Hazel Eyes
Her head twisted back and forth between the two men with a frown on her lips. “What about my job here? Who is going to answer the phone and take orders?” she asked logically.
“I am,” I said, nodding at my computers. “I’m going to get a new website set up with better security, but I can answer the phone at the same time.”
“No, Mattie,” Honey insisted, her head swinging frantically. “I can look at your other business while I’m here. We can’t ask Charity to do two jobs when she isn’t even employed by the business!”
Gulliver held his hand out to her. “It’s fine, Honey. Mathias needs your help, and we can spare you for a week while you do it. Besides, he’s going to need someone to look after him for a few days after the knock to his head. I’d prefer if you were taking care of him. I don’t want to worry about him and try to protect the company at the same time.”
She bit her lip nervously as she eyed the man next to her and considered what Gulliver had said. “Okay, you’re probably right. But if you need me...”
“I know where you are,” Gulliver promised, hitting the button for the elevator. “Take him home. The van is in the garage next to the lab. Mathias has a card to get in.”
Honey helped Mathias onto the elevator, and he put his head on her shoulder as the door closed. I noticed Gulliver chewing on his lip.
“He’ll be okay. Honey will make sure of it,” I assured him.
“I know,” he said on a nod. “I was more worried about where I’d find time to help you with the new website. I have a lot of work to do during the day with the other scientists. Can we have Jim do the website instead?”
“Jim?” I asked, confused.
“Jim Parsons, my web designer.”
I shook my head instantly. “Jim has to go, I’m sorry to say. We can’t trust anyone who has ever worked inside this business besides your close investors. Anyone could be involved in this.”
“Jim Parsons is a sixty-year-old grandpa, Charity,” he said on such a disbelieving snort I thought he might swallow his tongue.
“Even grandpas need money, Gulliver,” I answered pointedly.
While he thought it over, his eyes were squinted in the most adorable way. It was almost as if he was moving puzzle pieces around in his head until they all fit to form the real picture. I could tell by the look in his eyes when he opened them again that he was still missing a piece or two.
“Okay, fine. Jim goes. Can we work on the website in the evenings and on the weekends?”
“Not a problem. By then I’ll be done working the reception desk during the day, so nights and weekends will be fine. We can do it at your place or mine, but I’ll tell you this much: mine has a much better view.”
His gaze roved over me in a blatant display of lusty interest. “Truer words were never spoken.”
♥
Icarried Gulliver’splate back to the table and set it on his place mat while he settled his crutches against the wall. Once I slid into my seat, I rubbed my hands together when I faced my steaming plate of deliciousness. “Man, this is the best thing I’ve seen in days. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, biscuits, and whatever these things are,” I said, poking at a ball of dough covered in sugar.
Gulliver snorted with laughter and had to cover his face with his napkin or risk spraying coffee across the table. “It’s a doughnut hole, you nut,” he finally answered when he finished coughing. “We’re big fans of them here.”
I picked it up and took a bite. “This is yum too. I like the cinnamon and sugar,” I added, popping the last bite into my mouth.
He swung his fork around my face in a circle. “You need a napkin. You’re drooling.”
I gave him my har-har smile and grabbed my fork. “I’m in love with you already for suggesting we eat here,” I said, shoveling eggs into my mouth. When I glanced up to get my juice, he was staring at me slack-jawed. “Figure of speech,” I stuttered, but inside I was cringing.What the heck, Charity? You’re ridiculously bad at small talk, so just stop.
“Of course,” he replied and immediately changed the subject. “They have a breakfast buffet every morning, but Saturday and Sunday are the best days. They add extra items for the campers as they stumble into town to oust their hangovers. We got here early enough that the tourists won’t overtake us, but most weekends there’s a line out the door of this place.”
I took a drink of coffee to wash down my eggs. “I can understand why, honestly. I’ve never seen a spread as copious as theirs,” I said, jabbing toward the buffet with my fork. “Even in Vegas, and those casinos know how to do buffets.”
“Well, if it isn’t Gulliver Winsome,” a short, portly man said as he approached our table. “And this must be Charity.”
Gulliver winked at me before he motioned to the man in front of us. “Charity, this is Kevin Havens. He owns the diner with his wife, Lucy.”
I wiped my hand on my napkin and stuck it out for him to shake. His large paw engulfed my hand as he shook it up and down so hard my shoulder got involved in the equation. “Nice to meet you, Kevin. I met Lucy the other day. I suppose she told you all about the new girl in town.”
Kevin released my hand and rocked up on the balls of his feet. “She sure did. She mentioned a giant dog that liked hot dogs as well.”
