Page 12 of Caught in the Axe
He was silently challenging me. As if he already believed I was capable of all the tasks he needed help with. And as if he looked forward to seeing what I could do.
My heart rate sped up as he continued to assess me, and my knees went a little wobbly.
He was a seasoned negotiator. I’d give him that.
“Pretty sure you’re overqualified, but we’d appreciate all the help you could give us,” Finn said. “Owen’s a bit of a control freak.” He laughed. “But if you’ve got time, he could use help making spreadsheets and organizing files.The rest of us sure as shit don’t know anything about that stuff.”
What did I have to lose? Excitement hummed in my veins at the prospect of a new experience like this. From our short conversation, it was clear that Owen would be a good boss. He hadn’t talked down to me, and he’d carefully answered each of my questions. Despite what I considered limited experience, he’d seemed impressed. It was no secret that he was under pressure. Hell, everyone in town knew what the Heberts had been through, and he had every reason to be angry. But he wasn’t. A little stern, yes, but still kind.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Owen’s expression didn’t change. He was so serious and controlled.
It shouldn’t, but his stoicism sent a frisson of interest through me. What would it take to knock him off his game? He’d been off-kilter for a moment yesterday when he’d squeezed his coffee cup so hard it exploded all over him. Could I rile him up again? Make him lose his cool?
The clang of a fork on a plate startled me. Damn. I’d veered way off course. I forced my attention away from Owen and refilled each of the guys’ mugs once more. When Mrs. Souza called out to me, grumbling that her hash browns were cold—of course they were; they’d been sitting in front of her while she gossiped for the last twenty minutes—I excused myself.
The Heberts finished up, and unlike most of our patrons, left a generous tip. As I was busing the table, loading the plates into a plastic bin, a thick business card, embossed and heavy, caught my eye.
I picked it up and studied it. Owen Hebert, CFO,DiLuca Construction. On the back, he’d scribbledCall me so we can get to work. -O
I tucked it into my apron, fighting a grin. It was a certainty I wouldn’t be sleeping for weeks. Ostensibly because I’d be working so much. But also because there was no way I wouldn’t be spending my time obsessing about Owen Hebert and those damn blue eyes.
Chapter 5
Lila
I accept your generous offer.
Are you sure? I’ve been staring at a box of files for over an hour, and I’m pretty sure I’d like a hellmouth to open up under this cabin and swallow me whole.
Files don’t scare me.
These might.
Never fear, Owen Hebert. I’m gonna make your files my bitch.
As agreed, I’d showed up at the Hebert Timber offices this afternoon. Did I wear a little makeup and my tightest jeans? Why, yes, I did. And No, I did not wantto analyze why.
I’d vastly underestimated how much work needed to be done, but seeing Owen cushioned the blow. So did his grateful, enthusiastic acceptance of another honey latte.
We were walking through this week’s priorities—and the list was long—when the alarm on my phone sounded.
With a heavy breath out, I stood and gathered my notebook and pen. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to run. Can we pick this up tomorrow?”
He ran his hands through his hair in a way that I’d already pinned as a nervous habit and checked his phone. “I’ve got some calls scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Could you stay a few minutes longer? If we could get through the rest of the records, I’d feel a lot better.”
I tapped my phone’s screen to check the time again, and my heart sank. I really couldn’t. Lips pursed, I considered him. “Are you busy now?” I asked. “I’ve got to do a few deliveries, but if you come with me, we can talk business in the car.”
He tipped his head back and frowned up at me. “Deliveries?”
I wound my scarf around my neck and tucked my notebook and laptop into my bag. Then I headed for the door. “Come on. It won’t take long.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move. His expression was serious, as always, as he scrutinized me, like he was trying to make sense of my suggestion. Then he gave the barest of shrugs as if to sayfuck it—in his own classy way, of course—and stood.
Once he’d pocketed his phone and had thrown his coat on, we headed down in the elevator. All the while, he stole questioning glances at me, but I remained silent. I enjoyedthrowing him off balance a little. It was kind of hot actually, cracking the cool, calm exterior of the tall, broody businessman. I had the feeling he wasn’t the kind of guy who was frequently caught off guard.
I could have talked accounting with him all night, but it had been a long winter, and Vic was short-staffed, so I’d promised to help out with deliveries tonight.
