Page 47 of Scotch on the Rocks

“Fine,” I straightened. “Just … performing a safety check.”

“On the bannisters?” Her brows flew up.

“Yes.” My thoughts scrambled. “For … woodworm.”

I regretted it the moment the words passed my lips. Ada shrieked and I sighed, watching papers scatter across the floor. “Do we have an infestation? I’mdeathlyafraid of insects.”

“We don’t have woodworm,” I quickly assured her. “That I’m aware of.” She screamed again, leaping from behind the desk like the unfortunate heroine in a B-grade horror movie. I swept down the final step, biting my lip as I knelt to gather the strewn documents.

“I told your mum when she hired me that I wouldn’t work with animals, especially insects.” She swatted at her arms. “I feel all itchy now.”

Despite the headache forming, I said, “How about you take off for the night? I’ll cover reception and get all the necessary checks in place before your shift on Wednesday?” It wasn’t Ada’s fault I was in a shit mood.

“Would you? Perhaps call an exterminator too, it’s best for everyone to have a safe working environment.” She was already collecting her coat and bag from beneath the desk. “Now I can get to my book club a little early.” Hooking her jacket over her arm she squeezed my shoulder as she passed. “You’re a good girl, June. Those invoices still need filing before tomorrow.”

“Great.” My fingers rolled over my temples. I still had three rooms to turn over before tomorrow after spending most of my afternoon stripping the waterlogged wallpaper out of room five.

Trying not to move my legs any more than necessary, Ishuffled the papers into a pile. One in my periphery lay just out of reach, I stretched a little further, a finger just grazing the corner. “Come on, you shit.” I extended just a little more. “You fucking,fuck.”

“Call me egotistical.” A pair of unlaced boots stopped just shy of crushing the invoice. “But I have the strangest notion you’re imagining that piece of paper has my face on it.”

How did a man of his size move so silently? Help or not, I seriously regretted giving him free rein to come and go as he pleased.

“That would involve me thinking of you at all—” Shoving with my feet, I shuffled an inch closer and snatched the invoice from the toe of his boot. “Which I don’t.”

A bare-faced lie. The deep timber of his voice transported me back to his bathroom this morning, steam misting my eyes, turning my brain foggy as he’d undressed me with surprising gentleness. His hands had been warm and shaky as they slid around my waist, blazing through my shirt, making certain I was steady on my feet before dropping to his knees. He’d looked ready to eat me alive. And like an utter fool I would have let him.

Now the roles were flipped, and I knelt athisfeet.

He took in my position with a keen stare. “You can’t get up, can you?”

Oh, he thought he was so funny and charming with that dimple popping smile. “Perhaps I’m taking the opportunity to inspect the hardwood.”

His boot scuffed against the floor, making a high-pitched squeak. “More of those renovations in mind, harpy? Feels like you’re trying to keep me around.”

When I only rolled my eyes, he held out a hand. Biting down on my wince, I bypassed the offer and pushed to my feet, my features set in a victorious little grin.

“Very smooth,” he noted.

“I assume you’re here to work?” I said over my shoulder, pushing an extra little sway into my hips as I rounded the desk. Suddenly very pleased I’d worn my favourite skirt that fit like a glove.

He followed, patting the bag on his shoulder. “Within a few hours you’ll have yourself a fully fitted toilet.”

“What every girl dreams of hearing.” I sat, dropping the stack of invoices onto the desk. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you’re handy with a wrench.”

“My talents lie elsewhere.” I hummed, leafing through the documents rather than looking at him. I couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it happened, but the starling blue Macabe eyes had morphed into an affiliation withhim, not a memory of Alistair.

He clicked his tongue, “Pity.”

He hovered at the edge of my vision, and I pretended not to notice. We were always doing this … this charged back and forth. A conversation of concentric circles that achieved nothing but shifting my pulse into a higher gear.

“Well, you know where I’ll be,” I said, a dismissal he ignored by setting a bar of dark chocolate on the desk. The purple package rustled in his fingers.

“For you.”

Seconds ticked by while I stared at it. “Why?”

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