Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
He grunted, and I couldn’t help but tease him.
“Besides, it looks as if you were plenty busy. Nice running boards.”
“I’ve had them for a while. First chance I got to install them is all. Don’t read anything into it.”
I ignored the growly tone. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He got down on his haunches, inspecting my handiwork. I had taken my time and been careful. I used a rust-inhibiting paint, even smoothing down the rough spots before I covered them. He stood. “Nice job.”
“Thanks.” I lifted two containers from the basket, handing one to him. “These are frozen, so I need them to go in the freezer right away.”
“What are they?”
“Pies.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah?” Then he frowned. “Why are they frozen?”
“So I could pile them in the basket and bring them home.” I held up the other container. “This one is still warm. You can have it after dinner.”
His face broke into a wide smile, transforming his features. Stern and unflappable was attractive on him. Excited and happy was incredible. His eyes crinkled, his teeth flashed, and his face became intoxicatingly handsome. Dimples appeared by his mouth. His countenance changed entirely. He was devastatingly sexy.
He shoved the first container back at me, taking the still warm pie plate from my hands. “Nope. I am having a piece right now.”
He turned and began walking toward the house, calling over his shoulder, “I hope you bought ice cream yesterday, Charly.”
Still enthralled over his sudden openness, I followed slowly, trying to recover my senses. I thought growly was hot on him. If pie did that to him, I’d be baking every day. Holy moly.
“It was on your list, Maxx, so yes, there is ice cream. I can read, you know.”
He must have heard me because his laughter floated through the air. I shook my head. This was not good. If he was going to be sexy all the time, I didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting him.
I walked to the utility room, putting the pies in the freezer. I wanted to add some premade meals for nights I didn’t feel like cooking or on the days I was off, but it was a pretty small freezer and I had already filled it with frozen vegetables and fruit. I wandered into the kitchen, stopping at the sight of Maxx leaning against the counter, shoving pie and ice cream into his mouth.
“You know,” he mused. “If the internet had a smell factor and you’d flashed one of these pies, I would have hired you just for that, regardless of the fact that—” he grinned widely, his eyes crinkling in that sexy way again “—you chap my ass constantly.”
It was all I could do not to launch myself at him. He was so appealing right now. Tall, rugged, teasing, and at ease. Eating pie. Throwing my favorite expression at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Jeez, were you raised in a barn? You wanna chew that pie, Maxx? I spent a lot of effort making it—at least slow down and taste it.”
He shoveled another mouthful in. “I am tasting it. It’s the best thing I ever ate.” Then he held out his fork. “Taste it.”
My feet carried me closer, hardly able to believe what he was offering. As I got near, he slipped his fork into my mouth, the tartness of the warm rhubarb and strawberries exploding, highlighted by the cold sweetness of the ice cream.
I closed my eyes and licked my lips. “Damn, that is good,” I admitted. I opened my eyes to see Maxx staring at me. His dark gaze was intense, focused on my mouth. Our eyes locked as he lifted the fork and drew it between his lips, his tongue sliding over the tines in a long, sensual lick.
“Yeah,” he uttered. “It really is.”
My breath came out in a long shudder. I waited for the explosion. Either him yelling at me, or lunging, maybe taking me right there on the counter. Despite his angry words the other day, I knew he wanted me. The evidence of it was in his stare. The bulge in his jeans. The dark, frank look in his eyes.
But nothing happened. He dropped his gaze and finished the pie in two fast mouthfuls. Then he cut another slice, added more ice cream, and walked away. “Help yourself, Charly. You get one piece. The rest is mine for later.”
“It’s all yours, Maxx,” I mumbled, my knees feeling weak.
I heard his chuckle as he walked outside. I also heard what sounded like him saying, “I wish, Red. I wish.”
But I was certain I was mistaken.
I made a concerted effort to stay away from Maxx again. I spent the week acting like the perfect employee. I did my job, made sure he had his meals, and spent the evenings in my room, often taking a bike ride and enjoying the scenery. I found it incredibly difficult to try to remain aloof. Watching Maxx without him noticing became an art form for me. I could peer at him as he talked to customers. Paced while on the phone. Ogle his fine ass as he bent over the hood of a car. Groan with barely suppressed lust as he slid underneath the hood on a creeper, his torso disappearing. I wondered how he would react if he felt my hands on his thighs, stroking him, unzipping those jeans and taking him in my mouth, all the while not being able to see me.