Series: Shifter Ops Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“I see,” my boss says after a pause. “Forgive me if I overstep, but are you comfortable with this situation? Is his presence…” he hesitates as if choosing his words carefully. “Welcome?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” I rush to say, touched by his concern. “It was a surprise, but we’re glad he’s here.”
“That’s good. Let me know if you need help with anything, Julia. My door is always open.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I can sense he wants to say more, but he changes the subject to the next steps with the contracts, and I’m all too grateful to focus on work.
As soon as the meeting’s done, I’m going to kill Channing and bury him beyond the patio, a slice of cold pizza in his mouth.
A few seconds after I log off with Mr. van den Berg, something clatters on the roof. Channing swings into the open window.
He’s half-dressed in jeans and boots. No shirt. His chest glistens with a light sheen of sweat.
“Miss me?” He shows me his dimples.
I rise out of my chair, pointing at his bare chest. “I’m going to kill you.”
He cocks his head into the aw shucks position. “What did I do?”
I tick the items off my fingers. “Turned off my alarm clock. Made me late. Started hammering things in the middle of my meeting with my boss.”
“Yeah, my bad. I can wait until later to finish the shingles. Get Geo to help.”
“Channing Eugene Armstrong, you will not take my son onto the roof–”
He cocks his head. “You do know he’s virtually indestructible, don’t you? Shifters heal–” Steam must have come from my ears because Channing waves his hands. “Fine, no roof. Who was that you were talking to?”
“What?” The subject change has me reeling.
“The old guy who sounds like he has a stick up his ass.”
“He does not sound like that,” I sputter. “Mr. van den Berg is my boss, and he's good to us.”
Channing’s eyes narrow. “How so?”
“He pays me an excellent salary with a generous benefits package. And he’s helping get Geo into a new school.”
“And what does he ask you to do in return?” His voice is silky and deep, dangerous.
“Nothing but my job,” I say. “You’ve got the wrong idea. Our interactions are completely appropriate. Professional.”
“Except that he’s taken an interest in you and Geo’s personal life.” His jaw clenches.
“He’s been nothing but kind. I know you have no idea how hard it is to raise a kid by yourself, but let me assure you, I needed the help.”
Channing flinches, and I feel guilty for bringing out the big guns.
“I know,” he says softly. He’s moved close into my space, and the fresh wave of his outdoorsy scent makes me dizzy.
I hold up a hand to ward him off. “Not just wads of drug dealer money. I’m a lawyer. I make a decent wage. I needed a different kind of support.”
The dimple’s back. “For the record, I’ve never worked for a drug dealer. I’ve shot quite a few, though.”
“Enough,” I say.
Channing gives me a sly smile and a wave of heat washes over me. My palm hovers over his bare chest. I snatch it back and cross my arms to remove the temptation of touching him. It’s shameful how much I want to. “Where is your shirt?”
He shrugs. “I got hot on the roof. Speaking of which, when is your next meeting? I want to nail down these shingles before dusk.”
I want to tell him to eff off, but I guess I do need the shingles replaced. “Wait until my lunch break. I have to go to the grocery store then.”
“Groceries are covered. Tell me what you want to get. Geo and I already put in an order–I’m having it delivered.”
I open my mouth. Close it. If I don't calm down, my head is going to explode.
I just asserted that I needed more help, right? So I can’t really tell him I don't want him helping. Laundry and groceries were at the top of my to-do list today.
It’s infuriating how helpful he’s being. I can’t even kill him. How would I plead my case in court? He cleaned my house and ordered dinner, so I shot him?
Shooting him won’t work, anyway. I don’t have any silver bullets.
Instead of strangling him, I stand inches away from Channing’s bare chest, glaring like a freak. It’d be so easy for him to close the distance between us, his arms would hitch me up against him, and I’d wrap my legs around him and rub against his hard body, like in my dream…
Channing stoops, so he’s right in my face. “Relax, Julia.” His lips hover right over mine. One inch, and they’d be touching.
“Get out,” I growl, and he chuckles, backing away until he’s sitting on the windowsill, then lets himself tip backward, out of sight.
I rush to the window, expecting to see him sprawled and moaning on the lawn, but he’s fine, hanging from one hand off my gutter. Until it cracks under his weight and he falls, taking the gutters with him. “Sorry,” he calls. “I’ll fix it!”