Page 15 of Tear Me to Pieces
“I don’t have to be at work until eleven.” It’s a pretty decent argument, but it doesn’t get me anywhere.
Simon points to the chairs. “Sit and eat.” It’s the first time he’s demanded I do something, and I expect it to annoy me. Assume it will take the edge off the fascination I have with him and begin the process of popping the bubble I’ve put around him.
It doesn’t.
Unlike the men of my past, he’s not demanding I do something for him. He’s demanding I take care of myself. And I’m faced with a scenario that’s never been put in front of me before. Again.
Since I don’t really know what else to do, I find my feet moving to the chairs.
When I sit down, I lift my eyes to find Simon watching me, an almost pleased expression on his face. Like watching me take precedence brings him some sort of satisfaction.
I clear my throat, trying to move past the odd feelings brewing in my gut and tightening my chest. “Thank you for breakfast.” It’s what I always wished I’d heard, but not a single time did it happen. Why show appreciation for someone doing their duty?
But catering to someone else isn’t a duty, no matter what controlling men claim.
“Don’t thank me too soon.” Simon pulls his coffee cup free and swallows down a mouthful of the scalding hot liquid. “It’s actually a bribe.”
I’m holding a piece of toast in front of my mouth, and I pause before taking a bite. “A bribe?”
Simon comes to sit next to me, slowly lowering his big body into the seat. “That’s right. I figure if I butter you up with enough food, you’ll let me talk to Christian and see what he’s got on hand that I can use to putter around this place.”
I stare at him, a little confused over why he would want to work when he’s off work. “You really don’t have to do that. I’ll get around to it.” Eventually.
“I know I don’t have to do it, but I don’t sit around well. Now that Tate’s house is done, there’s not really anything else to do around here.” Simon gestures to my plate. “Eat.”
Out of habit, I do as I’m told. The food is in my mouth and half-chewed before I realized what I’ve done, and it hits me like a bag of bricks. Makes me mad at myself and disappointed in my progress. But then Simon says something that changes the entire moment.
“Good girl.” The approval in his tone makes me want to sit up straight. Preen a little.
Compliments were in short supply in my previous life. Nonexistent, really. Especially from men. And—like having Simon cook for me and listen when I talk—I’m shocked at how good it feels.
“If I promise to only use materials I can get from Christian for free, would you be willing to give me a couple of rooms to work on so I don’t go completely crazy while I’m here?”
I press my lips together, working my way through this little conundrum he’s presented me with. A big part of why I hadn’t continued renovating my house was the expense. I’ve already bought this building and a car. Spending more of my limited savings stressed me all the way out. Even if I could get the materials from Christian for free, I would never let him—or any of his employees—do the work without me being the one to foot the bill. Man-hours add up quickly, and the scope of the job is pretty big, so I knew no matter what, the cost would be significant.
Part of me wanted to believe I would dig in and learn some new skills. Tackle a few of the projects on my own. But that hasn’t happened. For a variety of reasons. Reasons that might be more excuses than anything.
“I can’t let you do all that work without paying you.” I dutifully take another bite of my eggs after Simon looks at them pointedly before fusing his dark eyes to my mouth and angling a brow.
As I chew, he makes a rumbling sound that might be indicative of his approval. “You will be paying me. You’re paying me in company.” He tips his head toward the street outside. “Keeping me from having to stare at everyone else going about their happy little lives while I’m sitting alone in a camper.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It is kind of annoying.”
Simon’s gaze once again turns assessing. “Now you see why I’m never here.”
He’s offered a surprising amount of insight into who he is, and instead of quenching my thirst for information about him, it’s only left me wanting more. “Is that the only reason you stay gone?”
Simon’s expression is intent, all his focus on me when he says, “No. It’s not.”
Before I can attempt to get him to elaborate, Simon is grabbing my coffee off the counter and handing it to me. “But I’m here for a month, so you might as well take advantage.”
I take a drink of coffee, earning another grunt of approval. “That is exactly what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to take advantage of everyone here any more than I already have.” I sigh. “Jill sold me this place for next to nothing. Christian helped me get a good paying job.” I take a steadying breath. “And that’s not counting all the work it took for you guys to get me out of Arkansas.”
I’ve replayed that night in my head a million times. And not a single version has been the same. Initially, I obsessed over the mistakes I made. Thought of all I could have done to make it easier. Faster. Less dangerous. Then there was a period where all I could be was angry. Pissed that it came to that. Outraged that I was forced to run away from an entire life because of a few assholes who didn’t understand—or care about—the difference between right and wrong. Between good and evil.
Simon leans toward me, his collapsible chair groaning under the weight of his substantial bulk. “I feel like we’ve already discussed how I feel about you taking advantage of me, Myra.”
My belly flips at the deep softness of his voice. There almost seems to be a hint of suggestion there, but I could simply be hearing what I want to hear. Especially since I shouldn’t wantto hear that. I’m not in a position to offer much of anything to anyone, let alone a gorgeous man who has his whole life together.
