Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Why?”
“Money. Because he could.” She shrugs. “But don’t let this sway your decision. The city’s full of people who need work.”
“Would you be able to commit to a salaried position?” I say, thinking of Tank, all his talk about finances. It’s all true.
She blinks at me. “A salaried position?”
I nod. “The hours would be long. Essentially, you’d be working across the board with whoever needed you, but it would be steady income.”
“But what if I suck?”
“Will you?” I ask, leaning forward.
She sits up, almost like the question has offended her, even though she’s the one who brought it up. “I’ll do my best. I always do. Even with jobs I hate, and believe me, I won’t hate this job. I just don’t understand why you’d offer it to me. You must have so many applicants. I haven’t even told you my qualifications because I haven’t got any.”
She bites down, looking so beautifully unsure. I keep my hands under the table so I won’t do anything foolish. I want to touch her, feel her warmth, in an animalistic way. Just grab her and hold her, and that’s it.
“I guess I’m wondering why you’d do this,” she says. “Is it charity?”
That would make things so much simpler for both of us if I were just some Good Samaritan, if, even now, my dick wasn’t aching, my balls pulsing, as I obsessed over all the things I could do with her, to her.
“What if I said it was?” I ask. “If I told you I wanted to help you out. If I said, ‘I’m only giving you this job because you seem to need it.’ What then?”
She swallows, and it’s like she’s forcing her pride away. I’ve heard that so many times. Swallowing your pride, but this is the first time I’ve seen it.
“Then I’d say, I’ll do my best, every day, to make sure you don’t regret your decision.”
She doesn’t know I’ve seen her sick relative in bed, all those machines keeping them alive. She could mention it right now. She could tug on my heartstrings, but she chooses not to. She just looks at me, ready for whatever I decide. That deserves a lot of respect.
“I’m a hard worker,” she says, meaning I’ve probably just been staring down at her for a little too long. She’s got some firecracker spunk in her as she goes on. Something about her tied-up hair differs from when I saw her that night, adding to her tough look. “I’m not necessarily a quick learner, but I’m persistent. I won’t quit. I’ll keep going until I get it right.”
“What salary would you be comfortable with?” I ask.
The corner of her lip twitches in that captivating way again. “That’s not usually how this works.”
I slide a notepad across the desk. “It is now, but I want to be clear. I’ll be generous with the salary, but I expect you to do the work. This isn’t—”
“I don’t need charity,” she cuts in, with a temper that interests me. I respect her backbone. “If I’m crap, fire me.”
I nod to the notepad. She bites down. I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it. It’s so beautiful, her jaw clenching and her eyebrows furrowing. It’s a look of complete, sincere concern. Somehow, it tells me she’s a good person. She cares. She wants to make the best of this but doesn’t want to rip me off.
Taking a pen, she quickly scrawls something. I take the notepad and read the figure, nodding. “That’s doable,” I tell her, thinking of the budget, wondering if I’m lying right now. I may need to call up Raffie for more work.
“Really?” She’s wide-eyed with shock, and that makes it all worth it.
“Really,” I tell her. “When can you start?”
“Right now.” She shrugs. “I haven’t got anywhere else to be.”
“You can shadow Miles. He’s one of our dog handlers slash cleanliness specialists.”
She wrinkles her nose in a reflexive grin. I could spend hours studying her every detail. It makes no damn sense. I just met this woman. “Cleanliness specialists? Is that a fancy name for crap-picker-upper?”
I grin. “Bingo.”
“At least I don’t have to keep this outfit clean anymore,” she says, pausing at the door. When she turns back, her lips are pursed. My savage mind tells me to walk quickly across the room, grab her, throw her up against the wall, and make use of those gorgeously pursed lips.
“Tristan, I am thankful for this opportunity, and I don’t want to be disrespectful …”
“Your pay,” I say, reading the nerves in the red flush of her cheeks. I can see how young she is when she goes red like this. It makes her seem more innocent. It makes me wonder if, by becoming her boss, I’ve stopped anything from happening between us. “It’s fine. If you need an advance …”