Page 32 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

Wendy poked her fork into the salad in her container, gesturing with her other hand. “So, I was thinking about setting up computers along the wall to the left, and on the right will be the café counter.”

Mike paused as her words sank in, and he swallowed slowly, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. “When you said internet café, were you just talking about a place for people to come and play online games together, or an actual place with coffee and food.”

“Well, when people play on computers, they usually get hungry. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“Yeah but…there is a coffee shop right across the street.” He didn’t mention the fact that his best friend owned that coffee shop.

“And what, they have a monopoly on coffee?”

“No, but…why did you pick the space directly across from The Local Bean? There are several options down the street.”

Wendy put her fork down and folded her hands on the table. “I get the feeling you don’t want the job now.”

Shit. He needed this job to stay afloat, but he didn’t want to screw over Gracie, either.

“I do want this job.”

“Then don’t worry about The Local Bean. This town is growing, and there will be plenty of business for both of us.”

Mike wasn’t sure he believed her, but the little voice in his head told him to shut up and think about himself for once. His financial portfolio needed him to survive this slump; Gracie had been running the coffee shop for seven years and served a loyal clientele. People would continue to support her.

“The computers are going to be roughly a thousand dollars apiece with labor,” Mike said.

Wendy picked up her fork again. “And?”

“I’ll need fifty percent down for a job this big, especially with the custom materials I’ll need to purchase.”

She finished swallowing the bite of salad she’d eaten before responding. “Fine. Do you want cash, check, or card?”

“Cash or card.”

“Great. I’ll follow you back to your shop and you can run my card.” Wendy wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I feel like we should celebrate. What are you doing later?”

> “Heading home after work. I just got a new puppy and I don’t like to leave him alone for very long.”

“Aww, I love animals, but that’s too bad. I was thinking maybe we could grab a drink tomorrow.”

Mike’s gaze dipped to the tongue she’d just run over her lips. Conflicted, he sure as hell was. But she was attractive and direct, and he’d do himself no favors to turn away an available woman he didn’t have to work so hard to figure out. “You know, I’m sure one drink wouldn’t hurt.”

Ellie arrived at Mike’s at five forty-five the next day. Based on his texts she’d supposed his business lunch had gone from professional to personal when the two of them met for drinks at Buck’s Shot Bar. It was against everything she’d advised him, but at least it had given her an excuse to test out a new look on him.

She was carrying several shopping bags filled with clothes for him to try on. She’d even slipped clippers into the bag, in case he wanted a little cleanup.

Ellie had also bought several pairs of jeans and T-shirts, and she’d found a distressed leather jacket at a thrift store in Twin she prayed would fit. A pair of steel-toe combat boots would complete any of the outfits she’d chosen. She’d gotten his shoe size when she was out and about, but he had said large on the jacket. He would probably hate the leather chaps she’d picked up at a Western store and at least one of the shirts, but she’d wanted a variety, so he wouldn’t feel as though he didn’t have a choice.

Really, there was no wrong choice. All of the clothes were hot.

She knocked hard and heard something crash inside. When Mike answered the door a few seconds later, his scowling face was covered in shaving cream, but her attention was immediately drawn down to his bare, sculpted chest. None of those stuffy collared shirts or loose T-shirts had prepared her for those pecs or the bumps and ridges of his abs. Holy hell, those were some good abs. Some male models had to rely on airbrushing to get muscles like that.

He was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else, and his skin wore a sheen that made her guess he was still damp from a shower. When her gaze finally met his, he wasn’t glaring anymore.

No, his expression was intense. Hungry.

She almost gulped, but that might give him the impression that he affected her.

He didn’t, of course. She was just observing him. Closely.

“You’re early.” His voice was deeper, surly, but his obvious irritation didn’t bother her.

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