Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“I, um . . . they didn’t start to hurt until I saw them.”
He simply hummed as he took hold of her wrist and led her out of the room, then down to the kitchen.
Faith knew she should get herself together. Insist that she could take care of herself.
But it felt so nice to have someone else take charge. To look after her. Suddenly, he lifted her up onto the counter.
“Um,” she said hesitantly.
Then he grasped the bottom of her skirt, lifting it up over her knees.
She gasped.
“Easy, Ms. Blossom. I just want to check your knees. Which are as scraped up as your palms.”
His voice was scolding and it made her squirm. She didn’t like disappointing him. She hated disappointing anyone.
But, for some reason, she especially hated disappointing him.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll stay late to make up for missed time.”
“That’s not what I’m upset about,” he told her as he reached under the sink for a first aid kit.
“You’re upset because you’re having to take time out of your busy day to clean me up?” she asked as he cleaned her scrapes.
“No. Try again.” He used antiseptic, blowing on the wounds as she hissed.
“Um. Is it that I hurt myself?”
“It’s that you hurt yourself and then tried to act like you hadn’t,” he told her sternly as he placed bandages on her knees, then smaller ones on her hands. “I don’t like being lied to. I especially don’t like when you try to hide that you’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s really just a few scrapes.”
“Faith.”
Yikes. That tone of voice combined with him using her first name told her that he meant business.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry.”
Nodding, he lifted her back down. That did not feel good. It did not. “I want you to go home.”
“What? No, I’m sorry. Really. I won’t lie again.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Really, please don’t f-fire me.” Panic made her stutter.
“Hey, you’re not fired.”
“Oh. Then why did you tell me to go home?”
“Because you’re hurt. I want you to go home and rest.”
This was . . . crazy. She’d had worse scrapes working on her parents’ farm.
“I’m really okay. I can work.”
“You shouldn’t argue with your boss, you know.”
She bit her lip.
“But at least if you’re here then I can keep a closer eye on you. You can stay and work. But you won’t push yourself too hard.”
Faith breathed out a sigh of relief as she followed him back to her desk.
He pointed at her chair. “Sit.”
She sat.
Then he picked up her water bottle. “Drink.”
She drank.
Sometimes, she felt like a trained seal. But then she realized that he’d just gently cleaned up all her scrapes.
He’d also filled her water bottle with icy cold water before she got here.
Reuben Jones was a contradiction who kept her on her toes.
And she wanted more.
The sound of goats bleating made her jump.
Faith quickly grabbed her phone out of a drawer in her desk, hastily checking the message.
Reuben was in a meeting, but you never knew when he’d pop his head out and catch her doing something he might consider slacking.
In some ways, parts of this job were getting more manageable. In other ways . . . yeah, she was still a complete failure. Yesterday, she’d been shredding documents and, in the process, she’d managed to destroy several things he’d needed. She’d stayed back late to replace them and now she was feeling tired and blurry today.
Still, she’d made it this far and she was messing up less.
She thought.
Asta: Congrats on lasting three weeks working for the Devil!
Dear Lord.
Faith: You can’t call a client the Devil.
Asta: You can when he actually is the Devil. We need to catch up for a drink sometime so you can give me the deets.
Faith didn’t feel right gossiping about Reuben, but at the same time, she longed to make a friend. She was so lonely living in that house with Eric and Cammie.
Faith: That would be fun.
Faith put her phone away as the office phone rang. Huh. That hardly ever rang.
“Hello, you’ve reached Jones Law. This is Faith speaking.”
There was silence on the other end. Well, other than some deep breathing.
“Hello? Oh no, is this one of those crank calls? I should tell you that I know how to dog whistle and it’s loud. It will hurt your ears.”
“I . . . I’m looking for Reuben.”
The voice was soft and feminine. She almost sounded scared.
“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”
“Oh . . . he doesn’t usually turn his phone off for meetings.”
How did this woman know that? Who was she?
“Can I ask who is calling?” She tried to keep the jealousy from her voice.
“This is Juliet. Can you tell him I called?”
Juliet. His sister?
“Wait! He told me that if you ever called, I’m to send your call straight through.” He was very adamant about that.