Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“No, but—”
“My holiday cheer begins and ends at my mom’s bingo deal. That’s it. I don’t own twenty boxes filled with useless knickknacks. I don’t put up a tree or hang lights or…any of that shit for myself. Why would I do it for you?”
“Money. I’ll pay you handsomely to deck the damn halls and take a few photos. That’s in addition to the handyman stuff.” He named an even more outlandish sum than the one he’d proposed two days ago.
I whistled as I crossed my arms. “You do realize that’s insane, right?”
He shrugged. “A little. Look, I need a few Christmassy photos for my aunts.”
“Why?”
“Because…well…it’s a family thing,” he hedged, narrowing his eyes as he cast a wary glance over the array of boxes still littering the entry hall. “And as you can see, it’s complicated.”
I peeked at Tony’s roofing truck through the lacy curtains. “I’m a carpenter or a general handyman. I can’t, in good conscience, take money for something like putting up a tree. I mean…it would be one thing if you couldn’t physically do it yourself, but you seem perfectly capable of putting up a few decorations.”
“Physically yes, mentally…no.”
I stared at him for as long as I could manage without blinking, then let out a heavy sigh. “Is there an artificial tree somewhere in those boxes, or are you going to need a real one?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t looked and I don’t want to. I want to hire you to do all of that for me. Put it up and take it all down…within forty-eight hours. It’s Tuesday. If you get a tree today, it can be gone by Thursday, and then you can concentrate on the rest of the house stuff.”
“Your priorities are kinda whack.” I snorted. “Christmas is in three weeks. Don’t you FaceTime with your family?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“They’re gonna notice the lack of cheer on the big day.”
Cameron frowned. “Oh. That’s true.”
“Look, I should probably get out there and deal with Tony,” I said, stepping toward the door. “I’m not opposed to taking your money, but I’m no designer and I don’t like the holidays any more than you do. I’ll ask in town. Janie Calhoun owns the Christmas store on First Street and she does some staging for a couple of home boutiques in the area. If you want this done right, she’s a better bet than me.”
“No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of designers.” He waved impatiently and stalked over to the bins. “How about this? Let’s buy a tree, put some lights on it, and throw on a few ornaments. Then we’ll toss the whole thing in the trash before noon on the twenty-fifth and be done with it.”
“And what about all that stuff?” I inclined my head meaningfully at the holiday shit he had yet to unpack.
“Leave the box with ornaments, and put the rest in the basement. Out of sight, out of mind. Or better yet, throw it all away.”
“Wow. You are Scrooge.”
Cameron smirked unapologetically. “I told you so. My youngest cousin is having a baby any minute now, so with any luck, my aunts will forget about me for a while. Just knowing there’s a tree up will make them happy, and that’s what matters. So…what do you think?”
I fixed him with a long, hard stare.
“I think you’re up to something.”
He widened his eyes in surprise. “Such as?”
“I dunno. People who don’t like the holidays wouldn’t go through the hassle of hiring someone unqualified to do their dirty work, even if money were no object. It would be much easier to hole up in your office and hibernate for the rest of December. What do you really want?”
“Huh?”
“Is this about sex?”
“Sex,” he repeated with a huff. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to a repeat, but I’m not in the habit of paying for a good time.”
Christ, all he had to say was “repeat” and I popped a boner.
Fact: I’d jacked off to the memory of bending over the passenger side seat of my truck many times since that night. And knowing he was in town and still interested was kind of a mind fuck. I’d thought I’d learned a few lessons about mixing business and pleasure, but maybe not.
There was no way to adjust my semi without calling attention to it, so I moved to the front door, hoping those few steps would alleviate the tightness in my balls.
“Nice to know.” I ignored the lusty tingle at the base of my spine and schooled my features into something neutral. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Warren…I’ve been around the block a few times, and I’ve dealt with all kinds of folks. Money talks, right? If you listen, it tells you a bigger story. Your house needs work, your aunts need to know you’re surrounded by holiday cheer, but what do you need? And don’t feed me some BS altruistic line about safety and other people’s happiness. My bullshit meter runs like a Swiss clock.”