Gavin Cooke knows how to do that for a woman. Sure, he’s brash, arrogant, and a jerk, but deep within those eyes, you can tell that part of his ego is what would make him undoubtedly a fantastic lover. I bet he doesn’t know how to do a poor job at anything.
Shaking my head with an internal smirk, I try to banish those thoughts. While Gavin may be well equipped in the bedroom, that’s about as far as his talents would take him, I’m betting. He absolutely screams “loner,” and you can tell he probably has no concept of what a loving relationship would be about. At least in my limited experience. Yup… need to keep his gorgeous face completely segregated over into the sole category of “pornographic fantasies” and keep waiting for my dream man that will hopefully resemble someone of Hunter or Brody’s caliber.
Suddenly, something grabs ahold of my upper arm and I scream at the top of my lungs, releasing the handle to the vacuum cleaner and thrusting my elbow upward and back in self-defense. It cracks into something hard, and I leap forward a few feet, spinning to face my attacker.
Gavin is standing there, looking pissed and holding his hand to his jaw while he flexes it back and forth. He says something but I can’t hear him, so I hastily pull the ear buds loose and scramble forward to turn the vacuum cleaner off.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says as he fingers his jaw. “What the fuck did you hit me for?”
“You scared me,” I say defensively, my heart still pounding like a jackhammer.
“I called out to you,” he throws at me, anger heavy in his voice.
“Well, clearly I didn’t hear you or I would have responded.”
“Clearly,” he sneers. “How could you hear me with all that fucking racket you were making? I’m trying to write for Christ’s sake, and you’re hoovering the house down.”
“Hoovering?” I ask, confused.
“Hoover,” he says as he points to the vacuum cleaner.
“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I say as I look at the bright red model with a devil’s tail on it.
“What?” he asks, confused, his eyebrows drawn inward.
“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I confirm.
“What the fuck ever. We call them hoovers in the UK,” he growls, and I have to resist the urge to laugh. But then he brings me back down to earth by saying, “I can’t have you making all that noise when I’m trying to work.”
“I can’t clean properly without vacuuming,” I tell him. “Hoovering, I mean.”
“Then use a fucking broom so you don’t make any noise,” he snarls as he turns away from me, “or I’ll find someone that can clean my house in a way that caters to my needs, not theirs.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly as he starts to climb the staircase, because I truly am. He’s my employer and I do need to find a way to work around him and fulfill his needs.
“Whatever,” he gripes. “Daft Yank.”
I’m not sure why his words set me off. Maybe it’s because adrenaline is coursing through my body from having the pants scared off me or maybe it’s because I’m tired of being a doormat that certain douche bags walk all over, but I put my job in jeopardy once again when I say, “Why are you always such an asshole?”
The words pop out of my lips so suddenly that I have an insane urge to clap my hand over my mouth. But I don’t. I straighten my spine, stand tall, and cringe internally while I wait for him to bring the hammer down on me.
Gavin turns slowly on the staircase until he’s facing me directly. His eyes are narrowed and his teeth are clenched. “What did you just call me?”
“An asshole,” I confirm. “You’re mean. Really mean, actually.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me a moment. Then my heart really starts pounding when he steps down off the bottom stair and walks toward me. His gait is slow, his eyes holding me in place. He walks right up to me and when I have to crane my neck upward to look at him, I finally take a step backward. It doesn’t
Shaking my head with an internal smirk, I try to banish those thoughts. While Gavin may be well equipped in the bedroom, that’s about as far as his talents would take him, I’m betting. He absolutely screams “loner,” and you can tell he probably has no concept of what a loving relationship would be about. At least in my limited experience. Yup… need to keep his gorgeous face completely segregated over into the sole category of “pornographic fantasies” and keep waiting for my dream man that will hopefully resemble someone of Hunter or Brody’s caliber.
Suddenly, something grabs ahold of my upper arm and I scream at the top of my lungs, releasing the handle to the vacuum cleaner and thrusting my elbow upward and back in self-defense. It cracks into something hard, and I leap forward a few feet, spinning to face my attacker.
Gavin is standing there, looking pissed and holding his hand to his jaw while he flexes it back and forth. He says something but I can’t hear him, so I hastily pull the ear buds loose and scramble forward to turn the vacuum cleaner off.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says as he fingers his jaw. “What the fuck did you hit me for?”
“You scared me,” I say defensively, my heart still pounding like a jackhammer.
“I called out to you,” he throws at me, anger heavy in his voice.
“Well, clearly I didn’t hear you or I would have responded.”
“Clearly,” he sneers. “How could you hear me with all that fucking racket you were making? I’m trying to write for Christ’s sake, and you’re hoovering the house down.”
“Hoovering?” I ask, confused.
“Hoover,” he says as he points to the vacuum cleaner.
“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I say as I look at the bright red model with a devil’s tail on it.
“What?” he asks, confused, his eyebrows drawn inward.
“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I confirm.
“What the fuck ever. We call them hoovers in the UK,” he growls, and I have to resist the urge to laugh. But then he brings me back down to earth by saying, “I can’t have you making all that noise when I’m trying to work.”
“I can’t clean properly without vacuuming,” I tell him. “Hoovering, I mean.”
“Then use a fucking broom so you don’t make any noise,” he snarls as he turns away from me, “or I’ll find someone that can clean my house in a way that caters to my needs, not theirs.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly as he starts to climb the staircase, because I truly am. He’s my employer and I do need to find a way to work around him and fulfill his needs.
“Whatever,” he gripes. “Daft Yank.”
I’m not sure why his words set me off. Maybe it’s because adrenaline is coursing through my body from having the pants scared off me or maybe it’s because I’m tired of being a doormat that certain douche bags walk all over, but I put my job in jeopardy once again when I say, “Why are you always such an asshole?”
The words pop out of my lips so suddenly that I have an insane urge to clap my hand over my mouth. But I don’t. I straighten my spine, stand tall, and cringe internally while I wait for him to bring the hammer down on me.
Gavin turns slowly on the staircase until he’s facing me directly. His eyes are narrowed and his teeth are clenched. “What did you just call me?”
“An asshole,” I confirm. “You’re mean. Really mean, actually.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me a moment. Then my heart really starts pounding when he steps down off the bottom stair and walks toward me. His gait is slow, his eyes holding me in place. He walks right up to me and when I have to crane my neck upward to look at him, I finally take a step backward. It doesn’t
Similar Books
