Page 2 of Smooth Moves
“What you don’t have is a concept of time,” came the husky grouse from behind him. “Look, Cash, play with the dog later,” Jordan ordered. “It’s going to rain any minute now, and Judy Miller wants this stuff out of here today. She refuses to let us come back in the morning, when it’s supposed to be sunny, to finish. I think being here is hard for her.”
“It’s hard for me,” he muttered and nearly tripped over the skateboard again, which at least sent the dog racing away.
Jordan placed her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “Yeah? Suck it up, princess. And quit playing around.” She glanced at the skateboard and sniffed.
He heard Hector snicker but couldn’t take his attention from Jordan. “Playing around?I nearly killed myself on that thing.”
“All the more reason to keep moving so we can get out of here in one piece.” She cringed when the dog barked and peals of creepy childhood laughter echoed inside. “Poor Judy keeps breaking down in tears.” She lowered her voice. “And you assholes keep sticking me with her. I feel for the woman, but her husband should really be the one here helping her. I feel like I’m making everything worse every time I tell her things will get better.”
Yet Jordan would do whatever she could to help Judy because Jordan was like that. Caring and concerned yet hard as nails when it came to dealing with him and the guys.
A more detailed study revealed feminine curves under her shapeless Vets on the Go! T-shirt. Something he shouldn’t notice of a coworker.
And besides, she clearly wasn’t his type. Jordan didn’t have blond hair and huge breasts. Wasn’t too tall and didn’t act all breathy, batting her eyelashes at him and making him believe he was a god. Which, in the sack, he sure the hell was.
Still, something about her had been on his last goddamn nerve from day one. A sizzle of attraction. A spark whenever they accidentally touched. And she made him laugh with that huge attitude stuffed in a tiny, appealing package.
He stared at her from under his lashes, pretending to be focused on the small but heavy butcher-block island he’d just wrapped while subtly cataloging Jordan Fleming’s finer assets. Five and a half feet tall, if that. Athletic, toned, with shaggy, shoulder-length black hair loosely tied back in a ponytail. The ex-Army soldier acted like everyone’s buddy and tolerated Cash more than most without getting her panties in a twist.
He glanced up from her tanned, muscular legs showing under her knee-length shorts and saw more annoyance. He bit back a sigh.
“Take a picture next time,” she growled. “It’ll last longer.”
Hector snickered.
Cash blinked, pretending innocence. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Jordan?” Judy Miller called, interrupting. She appeared in the doorway of the mudroom and smiled with relief. “Oh, there you are. Would you help me with Mom’s jewelry?”
Jordan pasted on a smile. “Sure thing. Just making sure we’re almost ready to add more to the truck.”
“Oh, lovely. We really need to—” With a mother’s instinct, Judy hurried back inside, yelling, “Alex, stop that right now! Put your brother down before you hurt someone.”
Jordan turned, took several steps toward him, and poked Cash in the chest.
“Ow.” He rubbed the spot, impressed by the strength in that small finger.
“Hurry. Up,” she said between gritted teeth, but he saw the smile she tried to hide. She pointed to Hector. “And you too, sailor boy. Or I’ll tell the twins aboutyourtwin. And gee, wouldn’t you just love to hang around with the boys while the rest of us finish this job?”
“Oh, uh, no problem. We’re moving.” Hector rushed past her into the house.
“You’re good.” Cash grinned at Jordan.
“I know. Now please, for the love of God, hurry up so we can get the hell out of here.” She left him to help Judy.
Cash needed to get past this—whateverthiswas—for the woman.
Firmly placing Jordan in the back of his mind, he worked with Hector to stage more furniture and boxes on the lawn, narrowly avoiding the demon twins and the dog time and time again. Cash liked to think of himself as a simple guy. He’d more than once been labeled nothing more than walking muscle.
At six four and built like a tank, he used his body daily, either working out or at the day job. Many found him considerably less refined—some said less intelligent—than Reid. Again, Cash didn’t mind, pleased to leave the running of the business to those better suited to it. He hated the thought of a desk job, preferring to get his hands dirty in their family-owned local moving company. Life in the Marine Corps had been all he’d wanted. Until the end, of course. Dicked over by some screwed-up shit he’d had the gall to report to the authorities.
The past two years in the civilian world had been…challenging. But now he had work he actually liked. A job he’d held onto for more than a year. And he had yet to strangle any of his coworkers or clients.
The dog nipped at his calf, finding flesh, and darted away.
Cash added under his breath, “Or dogs. I haven’t strangled any of them yet.” Cute and furry was one thing, but those teeth stung.
Next to him, Hector frowned. “You say something?”
