Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
She tips back on her heels. “Right. Well, Ethan, what exactly would you like me to do?”
In truth, I don’t actually need an assistant. I’ve never used one in the past. I can answer my phone and reply to my emails myself. I’m pretty good at pouring coffee into a mug and picking up my lunch from the mess hall. I don’t really want someone in my space, but I don’t know what else to do with her. I should fire her and be done with it, but I won’t. I saw her moment of despair earlier when she thought I was letting her go. It almost looked like she was about to cry, which makes sense. If she’s forced to leave, all her plans go up in smoke—plans I’m still curious about.
Still, if I’m going to keep her around, I can’t have her out at the jobsite. It’s a safety issue. Everyone else we hired has had some experience in construction, but not her.
So, she’ll work directly for me.
Just…elsewhere.
“I’d like you to take this note to Robert. When you’re done, see if he has anything he needs you to do.”
She frowns, confused. I’ve just told her she’ll be working for me and now I’m sending her away.
Even still, she accepts the note without another word and is quick with her task. Unfortunately, Robert doesn’t need her assistance at the moment, so in less than ten minutes, she’s back in the trailer, staring up at me with those big brown eyes.
“What would you like me to do next?” she asks with an eager-to-please tone.
I’d like her to leave me alone, but I guess that’s not an option.
“Have you ever been an assistant before?”
“No.” She shakes her head before offering up a small smile. “But to be fair…I was hired to be a construction worker.” When it’s clear I won’t be joining in her teasing banter, she changes her tone. “Mr. Stone, I’m a quick learner and I’d like to be useful, so maybe if you took some time to train me or gave me a list of tasks you’d like me to complete…”
Tasks? I have plenty of them. I want her to stop calling me Mr. Stone. I want her to stop wearing those ridiculous clothes. I want her to tell me why she’s here.
Beyond that, I have nothing for her to do, and I see no reason to train her to be useful because she won’t be around long enough to make it worth it.
So, I keep her busy with menial tasks, things that keep her away from me. I snap at her to refill my coffee, run notes to the site, clean a pair of my boots that got muddy yesterday, check on lunch, take out my trash.
Each time I tell her to do something slightly more degrading, I expect her to respond to my command with a look of disdain or at least a subtle complaint, but instead, she’s quick and eager, always looking for more work when she’s finished.
Annoyed, I finally tell her to take the rest of the afternoon off, and that night, I stay away from the cabin until dark, working in the trailer, keeping myself busy, beating back thoughts of her. When I finally walk into the cabin, well past dark, her floral scent slams into me. I pause on the threshold, wondering if it’s a good idea to go inside. Then I see she’s asleep in her bunk, her feminine features so sweet and docile in her slumber, her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks.
An owl hoots, jarring me out of my careful study of her, and I’m angrier than ever as I storm into the bathroom to take a shower.
In the morning, she’s gone before I wake. It appears neither one of us is eager for a close-quarters cabin encounter. I’m glad.
Wednesday and Thursday follow the same pattern. I send her out to do things that will put as much distance between us as possible, but my inspiration is dwindling quickly. I don’t own that many pairs of boots, don’t generate that much trash, not to mention I have actual work to do. I don’t have all day to come up with arbitrary tasks for her. On Thursday afternoon, I have a conference call with my partners, and I tell her to sit outside until I’m done. So, she does. She sits right up on the top stair with her chin in her hands, observing the progress of the demolition taking place in front of her.
It’s unnerving.
It wrecks my entire vindictive plan. The small part of me that wanted to enact revenge is quickly losing steam. The fire that burned when I saw her standing in line, hoping to be hired as part of my crew is quickly turning to ash. Apparently, I’m not half the asshole I thought I was.