okay?”
“She’s fine,” I declared.
They slunk back to work.
Ms. Chase regained composure and I attempted to do the same. She took a deep breath but I held mine, trying to figure out a way to justify my presence. In seconds, I had completely unraveled. I hadn't planned ahead and now I was faced with an enormous dilemma. Here I was, standing in front of her after seeming to appear out of thin air.
What could I say? The truth? That I rushed down here, like a fool, to claim my territory? That I was ready to fight these other men over her like a dog would fight for his dinner?
Even I knew that wasn't acceptable.
“Is everything okay?” she asked unevenly.
The minute I opened my mouth I would be overwhelmed by her scent. Could I resist her? Maybe. But I also thought I could stay in the house while she was here and not approach her. Look how wonderfully that turned out.
I determined I had two options and quickly decided between them. Option one involved speaking to her. Out of the question. Option two was rude and unprofessional, but at least everyone would get out of here in one piece. I said nothing and silently waited as the girl in front of me calmed herself.
In a matter of seconds her breathing regulated, including her chest moving at an appropriate rate. The flush that ran down her neck and up her cheeks soothed, but not completely. Her green eyes narrowed to suspicious slits and she tilted her head, glancing between me and the mess on the floor.
I stared back, blank faced, looking like the world’s biggest asshole.
Ms. Chase chewed over some words, biting them back. Probably another ‘fuck him’ and leaned over to clean up the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor.
A flare of hope flickered. Maybe she would determine I was a gigantic jerk and she would quit. She could walk away and leave me to my business. I’d hire someone else who didn’t have an indescribable allure. Except, just as I’d convinced myself of the possibility, a third, horrific option opened before my eyes. Ms. Chase bent down to retrieve the broken glass. Her fingers moved near the razor sharp edges at the same moment as the shrill ring of my phone cut into the thick, oppressive silence. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. She looked up, leaving the glass on the ground and I lunged, grabbing the edge of her jacket, and said in the most charming voice I could muster, "Please. Let me do that."
Chapter 11
Amelia
"Please. Let me do that."
I froze. His voice was so soft and smooth, almost mesmerizing. No, it was mesmerizing. With only the slightest hesitation, I stopped what I was doing and stepped aside. When I finally found my own voice, it sounded high pitched and squeaky next to his. “No, Mr. Palmer, I can—“
“Ms. Chase,” he said, grinding his teeth.
An argument formed on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back. "Thank you. Um, let me get the broom."
He nodded curtly, and as I walked in the direction of the storage closet in the kitchen his phone chimed again. This time he answered. I waited in the hallway, giving him privacy, but I heard every word.
"No. It's fine,” he said, without a greeting. "It's under control.”
He waited, listening to the voice on the other side, feet crunching glass.
“I know,” he said, voice strained, followed by the chime, signaling the end of the call.
I waited a moment before entering the hallway with the broom and dust pan. "I really should do this," I said, thinking, somehow, this would come back to haunt me.
"Ms. Chase, please hand me the broom. I really don't want you to cut yourself. And, it was my fault. I'm the one that startled you."
I relinquished the broom and he swept up the mess scattered across the hallway. I tried to keep the gaping at a minimum, but it was hard. As with everything else, Mr. Palmer continued to surprise me. Each movement he made was quick and precise. His long fingers wrapped around the handle of the broom and I
“She’s fine,” I declared.
They slunk back to work.
Ms. Chase regained composure and I attempted to do the same. She took a deep breath but I held mine, trying to figure out a way to justify my presence. In seconds, I had completely unraveled. I hadn't planned ahead and now I was faced with an enormous dilemma. Here I was, standing in front of her after seeming to appear out of thin air.
What could I say? The truth? That I rushed down here, like a fool, to claim my territory? That I was ready to fight these other men over her like a dog would fight for his dinner?
Even I knew that wasn't acceptable.
“Is everything okay?” she asked unevenly.
The minute I opened my mouth I would be overwhelmed by her scent. Could I resist her? Maybe. But I also thought I could stay in the house while she was here and not approach her. Look how wonderfully that turned out.
I determined I had two options and quickly decided between them. Option one involved speaking to her. Out of the question. Option two was rude and unprofessional, but at least everyone would get out of here in one piece. I said nothing and silently waited as the girl in front of me calmed herself.
In a matter of seconds her breathing regulated, including her chest moving at an appropriate rate. The flush that ran down her neck and up her cheeks soothed, but not completely. Her green eyes narrowed to suspicious slits and she tilted her head, glancing between me and the mess on the floor.
I stared back, blank faced, looking like the world’s biggest asshole.
Ms. Chase chewed over some words, biting them back. Probably another ‘fuck him’ and leaned over to clean up the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor.
A flare of hope flickered. Maybe she would determine I was a gigantic jerk and she would quit. She could walk away and leave me to my business. I’d hire someone else who didn’t have an indescribable allure. Except, just as I’d convinced myself of the possibility, a third, horrific option opened before my eyes. Ms. Chase bent down to retrieve the broken glass. Her fingers moved near the razor sharp edges at the same moment as the shrill ring of my phone cut into the thick, oppressive silence. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. She looked up, leaving the glass on the ground and I lunged, grabbing the edge of her jacket, and said in the most charming voice I could muster, "Please. Let me do that."
Chapter 11
Amelia
"Please. Let me do that."
I froze. His voice was so soft and smooth, almost mesmerizing. No, it was mesmerizing. With only the slightest hesitation, I stopped what I was doing and stepped aside. When I finally found my own voice, it sounded high pitched and squeaky next to his. “No, Mr. Palmer, I can—“
“Ms. Chase,” he said, grinding his teeth.
An argument formed on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back. "Thank you. Um, let me get the broom."
He nodded curtly, and as I walked in the direction of the storage closet in the kitchen his phone chimed again. This time he answered. I waited in the hallway, giving him privacy, but I heard every word.
"No. It's fine,” he said, without a greeting. "It's under control.”
He waited, listening to the voice on the other side, feet crunching glass.
“I know,” he said, voice strained, followed by the chime, signaling the end of the call.
I waited a moment before entering the hallway with the broom and dust pan. "I really should do this," I said, thinking, somehow, this would come back to haunt me.
"Ms. Chase, please hand me the broom. I really don't want you to cut yourself. And, it was my fault. I'm the one that startled you."
I relinquished the broom and he swept up the mess scattered across the hallway. I tried to keep the gaping at a minimum, but it was hard. As with everything else, Mr. Palmer continued to surprise me. Each movement he made was quick and precise. His long fingers wrapped around the handle of the broom and I
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