Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“There are ways…” He looks around. As disinterested as always. “Your neighbor told me where to find you.”
Great. Twice as awesome. She’s giving my whereabouts to a total stranger. I make a mental note to raise Mrs. Argento’s rent.
“So…umm, are you interested in doing some home improvements?” Fingers crossed he doesn’t want his money back because that would be super uncomfortable.
“No.” He looks down at the business card caught between two of his fingers. I have a thing about hands, and he has nice ones. “Your name’s not Imelda Marcus.”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Yo, Rie,” Tommy shouts from somewhere behind me. “Time’s wasting.”
As if Tommy has ever cared about wasting time. Or anything else for that matter. “Go finish the roof over the porch!” I shout in return. “I’ll be right there.”
When he doesn’t respond, I glance over my shoulder and find him staring at West. The dick swinging is nothing new, but this is business and he needs to step off. This earns him a raised eyebrow. Thankfully, he finally gets the message and walks away.
Back to the guy standing before me, however. “I’m Riley James Jr.”
“Who is that guy?” He motions to where Tommy was standing moments ago.
“No one. An employee.” I’m not about to answer inappropriate questions from a nosy stranger. Enough of this dance. “Jordan, right? Look, if you came to get your cash back––”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
That’s a relief because Facebook does not offer refunds. “Why are you here then?”
West nods, his gaze pointed over my shoulder. “How do you feel about kids?”
Kids? Huh? Is he drunk again? What do kids have to do with anything? The question is so preposterous I forget to be intimidated and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “We just met. Slow down.”
Yeah, he doesn’t think it’s funny. His face stays stone cold sober, and the little bit of fun I was having is immediately snuffed out. Whatever. I clear my throat. Back to business.
“I like kids. What’s not to like?” I did not peg this guy as a dad. He definitely does not give off dad vibes and neither did his place. Come to think of it, there was no sign of a kid at his apartment. “Sooo, I kinda need to get back to work…”
“I came to offer you a job.”
More shocking revelations. “Did you say a job?”
“Yes.”
“I…uh, I don’t need a job.”
“As a personal assistant.”
I already have two jobs that keep me very busy. I certainly don’t have time for another. “I’m not looking for a job.”
He crosses his arms and his gaze narrows. I almost look around to see if I missed something. He seems very intent on…this job thing. What the heck is going on here?
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
“I’ve already got––”
“Name your price.”
I’m starting to feel like someone is playing a prank on me. I mean, who is this guy––Pat Sajak? “I don’t have a price.”
He gets this funny little V in between his brows, like he’s genuinely perplexed that I haven’t fallen to my knees and kissed his––I glance down––Asics.
“Everyone has a price. Go ahead, shoot.”
“Look, Jordan––”
“Three thousand a week plus overtime.”
Okay…Okay, it takes some effort to not let my jaw hit the ground. Three grand a week. Twelve thousand a month. For a job as a personal assistant? What exactly am I supposed to be assisting––bank robbery? A hostile takeover of a small South American country?
“I’ll even throw in a top shelf insurance plan,” he adds, continuing his pitch as if he hasn’t heard me turn him down. He is persistent––I’ll grant him that. Which naturally leads me to wonder…
“Why me?”
He looks off again, his expression borderline annoyed. This guy must be a real peach to work for. I’m starting to understand why he pays so well.
“I tend to be a hard on people.” His eyes meet mine, scrutinizing me, sizing me up. “I get the feeling you can handle it.”
Huh. Strangely, I take it as a compliment. And for reasons unknown, I think he meant it as such. Regardless, my head starts shaking before I can even get the words out.
H&D is all I’ve ever wanted. The income is still very inconsistent––which is why I wait tables four days a week. And I reinvest a lot of the profits back into my fledgling business. But I’m finally getting the word-of-mouth recommendations I need, and if I hit pause now, I’ll lose all that momentum.
“Between my business and the restaurant––it’s all I can handle.”
His mouth gets tight and he gives a little shake of his head. “Fine. Four thousand.”
“No, no. That’s not…I’m not shaking you down. It’s a generous offer, really. I just…can’t.”
“You’re turning down four thousand a week?” His voice conveys all the disbelief I’m feeling. I mean…it’s four thousand dollars.
Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I force the words out one by one. And it’s painful. Lordy it’s painful. Letting money go is always painful for me. “Yeah…yeah, I am. But hey, with digits like that, you’ll find someone in no time.”