Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“In that case,” he did his best impression of a deer caught in headlights, “that sounds . . . good.”
Shit.
“Great,” I bit out.
I couldn’t look at either of them a moment longer. Instead, I busied myself pulling the rubber glove back on and began to plot how I could get out of this arrangement.
Because I could not clean his house.
I could not be around him again because he wasn’t interested in giving me the kind of relationship I wanted, and I feared if I spent any more time with him, I wouldn’t just waver on my ‘no sex until love’ rule . . .
I’d break it to smithereens.
SEVEN
Noah
On Tuesday, I made sure to finish all my meetings early, so it gave me time to put some of my shit away. Really, it gave me time to clean—which was fucking ridiculous.
Charlotte would be here soon to clean my house.
Or, at least, she’d come over to discuss that, and I thought we were both hoping our one meeting would be enough to appease her father.
I wasn’t happy with the way my boss had foisted this upon me, but I was majorly pissed she was Ardy’s daughter. I should have been glad for it because it was yet another reason to steer clear of her. My first year at HBHC, when I was young and dumb, I had fucked around with a coworker, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
Sex and business needed to stay separate.
So why the hell was I looking forward to seeing her again? It’d only been three days. And why did I like that her number was now saved in my phone?
I wiped a paper towel over my bathroom counter, cleaning up the loose whiskers left from my morning shave. That was when I noticed there was a glob of toothpaste in the sink and water spots splattered on the mirror.
No way was I going to have time to clean everything before she got here. In fact, I’d been doing triage for the last half hour, focusing on the worst, most embarrassing spots, and I doubted anyone would be able to tell.
Shit, why did I have to be such a slob?
When the doorbell rang, I angrily gazed at my watch. Was she early? I was supposed to have more time—
Nope. We’d said five, and it was exactly that. Fuck.
I tossed the paper towel in the garbage can, checked my reflection in the mirror, and headed toward the entryway. I pulled open the door, and as I took in the sight of her, my grip tightened instinctively on the doorframe.
The last time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been prepared. She’d had on minimal makeup, her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she’d been wearing shorts and an old t-shirt. Today, she came ready, like she’d made an effort to look as tempting as possible.
Charlotte wore a pair of tight leggings, a purple sports bra, and a gauzy white shirt over it. The fabric was paper thin, so I could see her sexy bare stomach beneath it. Plus, the shirt was so loose fitting, it hung off one shoulder and exposed the intricate crisscrossing straps of her bra. Her hair was up in a smooth, sleek knot, and her makeup, while muted, was sultry.
The desire to peel her out of her clothes was so strong, so instantaneous, I went dizzy for a moment.
Internally, I wanted to scowl. Yes, she was hot, but she was too young for me, not to mention she was the boss’s daughter. His only kid. Which meant she was probably spoiled as hell.
Her gaze worked its way up my body, and when her eyes focused on mine, her shoulders lifted with a heavy, preparing breath. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I said, backing away from the door to allow her space. “Come on in.”
She stepped into my entryway, toed off her shoes without me asking, and peered around like she half-expected an ambush was waiting for her. When she didn’t find one, her attention went to the living room.
“You made some progress,” she said quietly.
I massaged the back of my neck. “Yeah. My parents came over and helped me out. Well, it was mostly my mom—my dad has a bad back and he just sat on the couch.”
Um, why are you telling her this?
I gestured toward the space that was no longer a labyrinth of boxes. “You want to have a seat?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
Her body language screamed she was uncomfortable and just wanted to get this thing over with, and I understood. I didn’t like seeing her like this, feeling so awkward and unconfident.
I jammed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and did my best to act casual. “You don’t have to do anything,” I said. “You can tell him I changed my mind. Throw me under the bus if you want to.”