Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“And that’s going to take time. What has got you so fired up this morning? I told you to stop going online and reading shit about yourself. Let things settle for a while.”
“I can’t get the fucking espresso machine to work.”
He sighs. “That is not the end of the fucking world, Archer. I’m ordering you coffee to be delivered and a simpler machine. Did you try looking for the instructions?”
“Thank you,” I tell him, instead of mentioning just how inept I am at even getting to the right website to figure the stupid machine out.
“I have to get back to work. Try not to have another mental breakdown until after seven p.m., West Coast time, okay?”
“Asshole,” I mutter jokingly, but he’s already ended the call.
I don’t know how long I’m standing there contemplating my existence when Princess whines. She’s now sitting in front of the pantry, and I thank God she’s aware enough to beg for food when she’s hungry. I certainly was never responsible for feeding her myself until a few days ago. Zoe did that for me.
As I scoop out several cups of food into the dog’s bowl, I look around the kitchen. Zoe did a lot of shit around here, I realize, staring at the dishes piled in the sink and the overflowing trash can.
I’m still staring at the messy room when the doorbell chimes. It doesn’t hit me that I’m alone in the house until it chimes a second time. Zoe answered the damn door, too.
Instead of making myself visible to whomever is outside, I pull up the security app on my phone. It’s not the coffee, but a man in a white shirt and slacks.
I choose a different camera angle as the bell chimes for a third time.
I recognize the man’s handsome face from the website. He’s from Blackbridge Security, the company I’ve hired to help me fix this fucking mess I’m in.
Nothing says I’m not ashamed of being gay, like being seen in public with one of the hottest guys in St. Louis. As I scoop Princess up from the floor and rush up the back stairs, I refuse to think about the fact that I’m using more lies to cover the ones I’ve already told.
I watch as the man looks around him, his mouth twisting up in distaste.
“Of course, the guy wouldn’t be home after I drove all the way out here,” he mutters before pressing the doorbell one more time for good measure.
“Yes?” I ask, activating the microphone on the security system when he turns to walk away.
I close Princess into her room—yes, my dog has her own room—and then dart into my own.
“Are you here with my coffee?”
His head jerks back slightly, brows drawing in. “I don’t deliver coffee, Mr. Bremen. I’m Brooks Morgan from Blackbridge Security.”
He seems a little agitated having to explain all of this to a tiny camera on the doorbell.
“Oh!” I say with believable yet entirely false enthusiasm. “You’re my new boyfriend.”
Like the asshole that I am, needing to get the upper hand right off the bat, I start to strip, pulling off my t-shirt and slipping my sweats down my legs before crawling into the bed.
He keeps his professionalism intact when he doesn’t cringe. I was told by the owner of Blackbridge exactly what Brooks does. I was assured he’d do an amazing job, but it was also explained that the man was as straight as they come.
I hit another button on the app, unlocking the front door.
“Come on in, baby. I’m upstairs.”
I toss down my phone and force my mind to think of some of the filthiest things I can imagine to get my dick hard. It’s a valiant effort, but my cock just doesn’t seem like it wants to get on board.
How this man reacts is going to determine exactly how this working relationship is going to go. From what I’ve read about the man, after searching his name online, he may end up choking me, and not in a good way.
Princess barks her distaste at being separated from the action as I listen to Brooks walking up the stairs.
I expect the man to look away when his big body fills the doorway. Any other person would cover their eyes and apologize.
Brooks looks at me, then his eyes scan the rest of the room before that blue gaze lands right back on me.
My cock hardens as his eyes run the length of me, my abs tightening with the attention.
He doesn’t look the slightest amount interested in what I’m doing, but my dick doesn’t care.
Jesus, the man is pure sex in dark slacks and a white button-down with the cuffs rolled up to reveal dark hair on his forearms.
“Hey,” I squeak, hating that I’m having more of a reaction to him than he is to me. “I’m a rock god, you know?”