her face.
“I can go if you like. It’s not a problem. I was looking forward to the job. Thought it would be a challenge working for two lovely ladies.”
That’s it. That’s done it. The patronizing sexist .
She clenched her teeth to prevent the words escaping. Sometime in the not-too-distant future she was going to explain to this man that she was running the business and she employed him—not the other way around. She’d played that game before, and she had no intention of falling into the trap again.
“No, it’s not necessary.” Georgie stood tall, pushing her shoulders back and tilting up her chin. His eyes lit up appreciatively, but she ignored it. “The other guys will be arriving in a couple of minutes. Here’s the schedule.” She held the coffee-stained piece of paper out. “All the addresses are marked, and there’s a GPS in the truck so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding the properties.”
Tom stepped closer to take the paper from her, and she dropped it into his fingers as though it were scorched, determined not to make the mistake of having any contact with his skin this time.
Staring at the piece of paper for no more than a second, he said, “Doesn’t look too difficult to me,” and stuck it in the back pocket of the hip-hugging jeans that molded his tight butt.
Georgie swallowed noisily and stalked off. “The truck’s over here.” She threw the words over her shoulder and headed in the direction of the shed, not stopping to see if he was following.
When she reached the truck, she ground to a sudden halt by the driver’s door and spun around. Tom stood right behind her, so close she almost crashed into him. All the oxygen drained from the atmosphere, and she rested her hand on the side of the truck to steady herself. As he opened the door she stepped aside. The increased distance between them gave her the opportunity to gather her shattered wits and finally the sound of tires on the gravel saved her. A red Ute pulled up.
Leaving Tom to his own devices, Georgie trudged off to greet Matt and the other two boys, checking her watch as she went.
On the dot—seven thirty .
It was a good sign.
Probably the only good sign so far this morning.
She had to take two steps to every one of the boys’ to keep up with them as they sauntered to the shed like a sheriff’s posse. “You will be working together. Tom has all the schedules and the plan for the day. If you have any questions, I’m sure he can answer them.”
As if in reply, the truck reversed out of the shed, already loaded with the bush tractor, brush cutters, and other tools she’d stacked up yesterday. Tom’s head appeared out of the driver’s window.
“These are the guys you’ll be working with, Matt, Garth, and Jim. This is Tom, Tom Morgan.” Georgie nodded deliberately in Tom’s direction.
Just in case you’re using another name today .
“He’s got all the details for your first day. I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” With what she hoped was a supercilious raise of her eyebrows, she marched back to the house, holding her head high, determined not to give Tom the opportunity to make another of his patronizing remarks in front of her new employees. It reminded her of the way Dale had always tried to undermine her actions.
Georgie had the distinct impression she was losing control, and she hadn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of staying on top of the situation if her body kept betraying her. What on earth was the matter with her? She never behaved like this around men. She’d spent most of her adult life working with men, and she’d never once paid more than passing attention to their bodies—she had, in fact, prided herself on the fact she was more interested in someone’s character than his looks, and this morning she had behaved like a fan club groupie.
Ignoring the dirt sticking to the bottom of her boots, she stamped up the steps into the house and punched the numbers into the phone
“I can go if you like. It’s not a problem. I was looking forward to the job. Thought it would be a challenge working for two lovely ladies.”
That’s it. That’s done it. The patronizing sexist .
She clenched her teeth to prevent the words escaping. Sometime in the not-too-distant future she was going to explain to this man that she was running the business and she employed him—not the other way around. She’d played that game before, and she had no intention of falling into the trap again.
“No, it’s not necessary.” Georgie stood tall, pushing her shoulders back and tilting up her chin. His eyes lit up appreciatively, but she ignored it. “The other guys will be arriving in a couple of minutes. Here’s the schedule.” She held the coffee-stained piece of paper out. “All the addresses are marked, and there’s a GPS in the truck so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding the properties.”
Tom stepped closer to take the paper from her, and she dropped it into his fingers as though it were scorched, determined not to make the mistake of having any contact with his skin this time.
Staring at the piece of paper for no more than a second, he said, “Doesn’t look too difficult to me,” and stuck it in the back pocket of the hip-hugging jeans that molded his tight butt.
Georgie swallowed noisily and stalked off. “The truck’s over here.” She threw the words over her shoulder and headed in the direction of the shed, not stopping to see if he was following.
When she reached the truck, she ground to a sudden halt by the driver’s door and spun around. Tom stood right behind her, so close she almost crashed into him. All the oxygen drained from the atmosphere, and she rested her hand on the side of the truck to steady herself. As he opened the door she stepped aside. The increased distance between them gave her the opportunity to gather her shattered wits and finally the sound of tires on the gravel saved her. A red Ute pulled up.
Leaving Tom to his own devices, Georgie trudged off to greet Matt and the other two boys, checking her watch as she went.
On the dot—seven thirty .
It was a good sign.
Probably the only good sign so far this morning.
She had to take two steps to every one of the boys’ to keep up with them as they sauntered to the shed like a sheriff’s posse. “You will be working together. Tom has all the schedules and the plan for the day. If you have any questions, I’m sure he can answer them.”
As if in reply, the truck reversed out of the shed, already loaded with the bush tractor, brush cutters, and other tools she’d stacked up yesterday. Tom’s head appeared out of the driver’s window.
“These are the guys you’ll be working with, Matt, Garth, and Jim. This is Tom, Tom Morgan.” Georgie nodded deliberately in Tom’s direction.
Just in case you’re using another name today .
“He’s got all the details for your first day. I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” With what she hoped was a supercilious raise of her eyebrows, she marched back to the house, holding her head high, determined not to give Tom the opportunity to make another of his patronizing remarks in front of her new employees. It reminded her of the way Dale had always tried to undermine her actions.
Georgie had the distinct impression she was losing control, and she hadn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of staying on top of the situation if her body kept betraying her. What on earth was the matter with her? She never behaved like this around men. She’d spent most of her adult life working with men, and she’d never once paid more than passing attention to their bodies—she had, in fact, prided herself on the fact she was more interested in someone’s character than his looks, and this morning she had behaved like a fan club groupie.
Ignoring the dirt sticking to the bottom of her boots, she stamped up the steps into the house and punched the numbers into the phone
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