I hate that the fact he called me pretty makes me smile inside. He's clearly a man that doesn't hand out compliments very often, which makes them all the sweeter when they come.
CHAPTER 7
Nix
It's Friday and Emily is due to arrive anytime now. I feel jittery and on edge. When I first came up with the hair-brained idea of having her work her debt off to me, I seriously miscalculated my ability to be in her presence.
As someone who constantly avoids interaction and conversation, it was just plain awkward having her in my workspace. Even on Monday, when I spent most of the time welding in a separate room, I could still feel her presence. Just knowing she was sitting out there...in a white “barely there” top and jean shorts so tiny that they should be made illegal. She had her hair up in a ponytail, exposing a delicate neck.
I wanted to bite it. Then lick it to make it better. Then suck on it...hard...just so she'd know how hungry I was.
When she came back on Wednesday, it was no better. I didn't have any welding work to do, so I was in the main shop area while she sat at the desk, doing whatever it was she was doing with my paperwork. After only about thirty minutes, I couldn't stand the tension I was feeling and left. I went ahead and got some work done on my house, expending my frustrated energy by finishing the rest of the plywood base flooring upstairs.
I came back to the shop several hours later and Emily had left, leaving a note on the desk that she was just about finished with everything I had given her so far.
I know what I should do. I should just tell her not to come back and pay me the money when she can. I can wait for her to inherit her trust fund or whatever that pot of money is that she said she would be getting. I'm sure she's good for it and frankly, I don't need the money right now.
And the main reason I should tell her not to come back is because she is making me feel damn uncomfortable in my own space. My haven.
When she's here, I can't help but look at her every minute or so, just to see if the expression on her face has changed, or if her hair has shifted. When her subtle jasmine perfume touches my nose, I think about her lying na**d in a bed of flowers. This shit is driving me f**king crazy and it's got no place in my life. It's not who I am.
So the fact that she's almost done with all of the work I had for her and I really don't have anything else, I should be happy our association is almost over.
I hear the tires of Emily's car crunching the gravel in my driveway. My heart rate immediately accelerates and I kick the edge of my workbench in anger. I stand, staring at the door, with my fists clenched.
When she walks in, it's like a punch to my gut. I don't know how it's possible, but she becomes more beautiful...more intriguing...more dangerous, every time I see her. I am out of control and I f**king hate this feeling.
"Why do you look so angry, Nix? I haven't even said anything to you yet."
Angry? No. Frustrated. Yes.
I try to relax my face but I don't think it's working. "I'm not angry. Just got a lot on my mind."
Emily gives me a sage look. "Want to talk about it?"
"No," I answer quickly.
Is it my imagination or does she look disappointed?
Whatever.
I don't talk to people, much less beautiful girls who are way out of my league anyway. She's a trust fund baby. She probably has a trust fund boyfriend all lined up for her.
"So, what do you want me to do today? It only took me two days to organize your desk."
Here's my chance to end it. "Actually, I don't have anything more for you to do."
"There has to be something I can do to work my debt off. Want me to help work on your house. I'm sure I could learn to swing a hammer."
"Look, Emily. I think it's best we just part ways. I know you're good for the money. You can pay me whenever you can. No rush."
She stares at me and doesn't say anything. My heart rate isn't easing, and I feel like I've made a very bad decision just now. But I have no clue why. I feel completely out of sorts around her and I just want peace in my life.
"So, what's that?" she asks.
Emily is pointing to the new laptop that's sitting on my desk. It's still in the box. I bought it yesterday, when I was having a moment of weakness and trying to come up with more work for Emily to do. So she would have to stick around.
"It's a laptop."
"Yes, I can see that, Sherlock. What do you have it for?"
I shrug my shoulders. I certainly can't say, "I bought it so I could create work for you, so you would keep coming here and I could be in your amazing presence, and I could figure out what all these weird feelings are".
Instead, I opt for ambiguity. "I figured I should put a computer out here to keep all of my bookwork and supply orders organized better that way. My PC is at Linc’s condo and I really need something here in the shop."
I don't offer anything more, because at this point I'm torn between making her leave and seeing if she'll stay.
"Well, if you're as good at doing computer work as you were at paper work...you're going to positively suck, Nix."
I don't say anything. I just watch her, holding my breath to see what she'll do. I've given her the out. Take it, Emily.
"So," she drawls. "Why don't you let me set it up and I'll play secretary for you. I'll get all of your stuff organized on the computer."
Play secretary for me?