Page 10 of Bracing The Storm

“You are?—”

I raise my chin a notch and look him straight in the eye. “Lori Crest. The new owner.”

He inclines his head and something like a smirk appears along the corner of his lips. “I was going for the thief who conned a poor, old woman out of her possessions. But Lori works just fine.”

Just like that, he releases his grip on me and I tumble backward, only now realizing I had been holding on to him for support.

The guy heads for the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Lori.”

I stare at the empty space he’s just occupied, wondering what his problem is. Maybe the “new owner” part put him in his place and he realized he needs to get the hell out before I fire his hot ass. He’s probably working on the premises, has a house full of kids to feed, and can’t afford to lose his job. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. He’s probably scared I’ll sack him for being an ass to me the night before.

“Hey,” I yell, darting after him, eager to set the record straight. I catch up with him in the vast driveway as he’s about to jump into his pickup truck. He keeps his back turned to me for a few moments, as though he can’t decide whether to acknowledge or ignore me. Then he turns, and his stormy eyes settle onme. I’m struck speechless again, not just because, in the bright sunlight, they look like two deep, dark wells I could see myself drowning in. It’s also because of how his gaze brushes over me again, settling for a second too long on the snug top I’m wearing beneath my jacket. It was the first thing I pulled out of my suitcase, and probably not the wisest choice given that it leaves little to the imagination.

Our gazes finally meet, and his brow shoots up in question. There’s that call for battle from before, though I really don’t understand the hostility.

“What can I help you with, Lori Crest?”

“Miss Crest works just fine,” I state.

He smirks. “Lori, then.”

I want to put him in his place, tell him that as long as I’m the one filling out the paychecks, I’m also the one who calls the shots.

But I can’t.

There’s something about him I can’t quite place. Maybe it’s the air of arrogance, like he’s used to having his way, barking out orders and people just follow like puppets. Or maybe it’s the way he makes me feel, all cagey and defensive, like I owe him an explanation—or worse—an apology.

“You were about to say something?” he prompts, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The guy knows he’s gorgeous. He knows the effect he has on women, and he probably takes full advantage of it.

Skirts might be lining up for this one, but I’m not going to be one of them. I’m not going to turn into a notch on his bedpost or a name in his little black book or however he keeps track of his conquests.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Your services are no longer needed.” My breath catches in my throat as my words sink in.

Oh, my goodness!

Did I just sack him? Did I just sack the first person in my life? This isn’t me. I don’t do stuff like that. I don’t eventhinkabout doing stuff like that. I feel so bad I want to tell him it’s all a mistake but I can’t bring myself to say another word. His gaze has me glued to the spot, rendered speechless.

I’ve officially lost my brain.

“Did you just—” He inclines his head as he seems to ponder over my words. And then he throws his head back and laughs. I stare at him, unsure what’s happening. “You think I’m—” He laughs again. I think I see a tear gathering in the corner of his stunning eye.

He’s definitely laughing at me.

What the heck?

“You think you can—” He clears his throat, the laughter dying down. His eyes begin to glitter with challenge. “You couldn’t afford me or my services even if you wanted to, love.”

With that, he circles his truck and jumps onto the driver’s seat. An instant later, he speeds down the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Five minutes later, I still haven’t moved from the spot. I’m staring at the empty space he just occupied, wondering what the hell that was all about.

Chapter Four

“How is it? How’s everyone treating you?” Mia asks for the third time.

Sighing, I fight the urge to grimace at the phone even though she can’t see me. I tried to FaceTime with her, but my phone seems to have developed a life of its own. Maybe the Irish weather doesn’t agree with it because the reception is spotty at best, and the line keeps crackling. Holding a conversation with Mia borders on impossible. It is beyond frustrating when, back home, we basically finished each other’s sentences. In a way, we’re like an old married couple, minus the daily struggle of not trying to kill each other. Come to think of it, we even have that at times. But as best friends go, she’s the only person I trust. The only one who’s always had my back.

“I haven’t met many yet. But a first glimpse has left me wondering what the hell I’m doing here.”

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