Page 8 of Pain in the Axe
Shaking thoughts of Gus from my mind, I led Karl and JJ up the stairs and to the main office space.
From there, we split up. Karl got to work, figuring out where the computers and other equipment we’d had shipped would go, and JJ retreated into the conference room to find maps and photos of the forests.
I found a large, empty office and set my laptop up on the desk. My goal today was to get my head in the game and prepare myself for the weeks ahead.
But as I was giving myself a mental pep talk, the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway snapped me out of my meditation.
Dammit. Already, I was shit out of luck.
Because there, standing with his arms crossed over his plaid shirt, was the man himself.
“Morning,” he said. His expression was stony.
I tried to force a smile, but my face was hot and my hair was probably wild from digging under the desk for an outlet. “Good morning.”
For a long moment, he watched me without speaking, almost as if he knew how much I despised awkward silence and was weaponizing it against me.
“You tried to murder me,” he finally said. “Should I be worried?” His voice was deep and smooth and far toononchalant about the whole experience. I’d rather he yell at me for my insane driving. Instead, all I saw was a cool, calm exterior and a deep frown.
I put my hands on top of my desk and stood. I was nowhere near as tall as him, but I needed every inch I could get.
“It was not an attempted murder,” I snapped. “At best, it would be involuntary manslaughter.”
He took a step closer, never taking his eyes off mine. “Wow. That’s a comfort. Thanks.”
I shrugged, ignoring the way his voice vibrated through me and lit up nerve endings. “It was an accident. My shoe broke.” I waved a hand at him. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Noted.”
“You can go now,” I said, lifting my chin and faking a level of confidence I didn’t feel. I did not like being alone with him, even in a room as large as this. It was too much, too intimate. His scrutiny was so intense it was palpable, and his glare alone was slowly breaking down the protective walls I’d spent decades building up.
“I don’t spend a lot of time in the office. But I’m here to help. Anything you need.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Slowly, he walked toward me, and when he was directly in front of me, he placed his hands on my desk. They were wide and strong and tan. And dammit, my traitorous eyes dipped and studied his left hand. No ring. It was a detail I was better off not knowing.
“Think of it as an olive branch.”
His proximity and overall maleness were making my brain short-circuit. It was too early, and I was too under-caffeinated to spar with him today. “Olive trees don’t even grow in Maine. Aren’t you the tree guy here?”
With a small shake of his head, he headed for the door. At the threshold, he turned and winked, and with that, he was gone.
My heart lurched. What the shit?
This was all kinds of wrong.
I was supposed to grind him to dust beneath my one-thousand-dollar heels, not be on the receiving end of unsolicited winks. Day one was already off to a shittastic start.
Chapter 3
Gus
Early mornings in Maine were hard to beat. The air was still crisp and cool, but it wouldn’t be long before that changed. July in Maine was defined by two things: humidity and mosquitoes. And lately, I’d found myself rising earlier and earlier, desperate for the tranquil quiet of the early morning.
Usually, I did chores, read, or walked Clem, but today, I was plagued by the overwhelming need to go for a run. I wasn’t much of a runner, but I was full of anxious energy, and a good run was the best way to get it out of my system.
She was here.
