Page 40 of Pulled By the Tail
Georgia shifted through a pile of invoices, bills, bank statements, and other paperwork, before she found overdue notices, and not just for the windows. Talen had admitted that he loathed the bookkeeping side of managing the house and had asked Fiona to take on that responsibility. All evidence pointed to no one paying any bills for months, thankfully due to neglect and not lack of funds.
Georgia took three days to sort through the mess and paid the most pressing accounts. She set up a desk in the study but Quil also had a desk there. On an average day, she didn’t see him, which suited her just fine.
They played a cat-and-mouse game of exiting a room when the other entered. If he prowled into the study and propped his feet up on his desk, she had a dozen other irons in the fire that needed attention. There was always something going on and some days she walked miles in the house.
Avoidance was a normal, healthy way to deal with unpleasantness. Lots of people said so. Probably.
Okay, she was being a coward, but she had nothing more to say to the man who left her at the altar. They would never be friends, so she bit her tongue and kept quiet. The last thing she needed was for the Achaval brothers to realize they didn’t need a sarcastic, cranky woman hanging around their house, making snide comments and eating their food. Better to keep to herself and avoid trouble.
Trouble, however, liked to fuck on her desk, she learned one afternoon.
Run off her feet dealing with the damn windows again, she ducked into the study to grab her tablet. There she saw Fiona bent over her desk—not Quil’s—being pounded merrily by the man who had his own perfectly good desk.
No amount of soap and furniture polish would make that desk clean.
Ever.
So that was how she came to share the old housekeeper’s office in the basement with Bright.
Under the kitchen was a labyrinth of disused servant quarters, storage, scullery, laundry, and even a wine cellar. The room was dark, despite the narrow windows near the ceiling, but it was quiet. Bright rarely ventured in except to drop off receipts for food deliveries or cleaning supplies, and to bring her a cup of tea. It was the perfect work environment.
Freema continued to write, encouraging her to be spontaneous and do “something stupid” and wanting pics of Talen’s tattoo. The girl had no boundaries.
Other than the eyeful she got her first day on the job, he kept his distance and kept his clothes on.
If she kept her head down, she’d be on a ship, heading off-planet in no time. That was the plan. Every night when she crawled into her gigantic, empty bed, she reminded herself that even if the plan bored her to tears, it was the smart thing to do. She didn’t need spontaneity. She tried spontaneous once, and it didn’t work out.
A knock at the office door yanked her out of her ruminations.
“So, this is your subterranean lair,” Talen said, his amber gaze taking in the simple room. The wall could use a fresh coat of paint, but she wasn’t staying, so it seemed like a waste of time and paint. A rug on the floor and more lighting would make the room cozy, but, again, she wasn’t staying.
“It’s tolerable.”
“Tolerable. High praise indeed.” He poked at the window frame of the lone window, high in the wall. “It’s drafty and cold. This is unacceptable.”
“I have a space heater and it’s quiet.” No one ever ventured down the stairs except Bright, and Georgia had her self-heating blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. She loved that thing.
“We’re playing cards and need a fourth,” Talen said.
“I don’t play cards.”
“I’ll teach you.”
The moment stretched out between them. She couldn't help but think that he was sort of perfect, exactly the type of guy she hoped to find waiting for her when she got off that ship, but she shouldn't get involved. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She wasn’t staying. Five more months and she’d be on a ship, headed toward a colony.
“I’m tired and we’ve got the window installation to deal with tomorrow,” she said. One hundred and twelve windows in total and a crew of four. The work would take at least three days if the weather cooperated. If the winter storm came through as predicted, the work would be delayed. All guest bookings had been canceled until the work was finished. “I think I’m just going to finish this and go to bed.”
“If you change your mind, we’re playing for bragging rights. Someone is too full of himself and needs to have his ego deflated.”
“Maybe next time,” she lied.
“Next time,” he said, tossing a warm smile.
Gah, she was such a weenie. The hot, friendly guy she secretly thought was perfect wanted to spend time with her, and she hid underground like a troll because she was a coward.
This was fine. This was the plan.
She certainly didn’t feel pangs of envy when laughter drifted down the kitchen stairs into her subterranean lair.
