I sat in the bed, surveying the room. With a small reconfiguration, it would work better. I would do that later today, but I wanted to get a start on the office in the garage. I got dressed, wearing a pair of jeans and a long shirt, unsure what to expect today but knowing I had a lot of work ahead of me. I bundled my hair into a bun to keep it out of my eyes, found my glasses, and headed to the office.
I stood in the chaos, unsure where to start. Files were everywhere. Piles of paper. Parts, notes, discarded coffee cups. I wasn’t even certain there was a desk under the mounds of stuff. I blew out a long breath and decided to simply start.
Half an hour later, I had scrubbed the coffeemaker, had a pot brewing, and tidied up the little kitchen area. The only things in the old refrigerator were some bottles of water, beer, and creamers for coffee. I was grateful to find they were still usable. I checked the storeroom and discovered a few new banker boxes which I carried to the office. I peeked in the ones on the shelf, noticing how tidy the paperwork inside was. Everything seemed to be in order up until the last year or so, and then it stopped. It was all there, but not in any order. I pursed my lips as I wondered what had occurred then that caused the sudden shift.
Back in the office, a cup of coffee in hand, I sat in front of the desk and decided swift action was best. I unfolded three boxes, and carefully piled everything off the desk and into the boxes, sorting as I went. As I went through the files, I noticed there was a system of sorts. One file contained a multitude of pieces of paper with jobs done, prices scribbled, and names. On the front of the file, written in a bold script, was the word INVOICE. I lifted my eyebrows in shock at the vast amount of money outstanding to Maxx. That would be my number one priority. “Yowsers,” I muttered, keeping that file on the desk.
It took me an hour to clear away the top of the desk, adding more papers to the invoice pile, finding unopened mail, bills to be paid, and a lot of junk. Once the desk was clear, I cleaned it, organized the top, and sat back, sipping my third cup of coffee. I glanced at the clock, noting it was almost seven thirty, and wondered if Maxx would want breakfast. We hadn’t discussed that last night—the fact was that we hadn’t talked at all. I pulled a piece of paper toward me and made yet another list.
The sound of the side door opening and the alarm switching off made my shoulders stiffen. I shook my head, preparing myself to face Maxx. Would he be friendlier today? I was determined to start the day off right and show him what I was capable of. I fixed a smile to my face and waited for him to walk in.
I wasn’t prepared for him, though. Freshly showered, his hair still damp, and smelling so good I wanted to lick him, he strode in. His T-shirt was stretched tight across his muscular chest, his biceps bulging in the short sleeves. The jeans he wore hugged his thighs, and I could only imagine how good they looked from the back. I had to swallow to clear my dry throat and force a neutral expression on my face.
“Morning, boss.”
He stopped in the doorway, clutching the frame. For a moment, he stared, his eyes narrowed, his frown deepening, then without a word, he spun on his heel and went back the way he came, leaving me staring at the door.
Holy moly, he was rude. He could at least say good morning. I scrubbed my face in vexation, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. I returned to the task at hand, not bothering to look up when he walked back in ten minutes later.
“Charly.”
I cursed the way he made my name sound like a caress without even trying. It rolled off his tongue like an endearment, even though I was certain he wasn’t trying to do so.
I glanced up, attempting to appear casual.
“Oh, you can speak.”
He had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. I realized I forgot my cell in the house.”
I rolled my eyes, not believing him for a moment.
“You don’t have to work Sundays.”
“I’d rather get a head start.”
“What have you done to the office?”
“I’m organizing it.” I lifted a file as proof.
“It was organized,” he huffed. “I knew where everything was.”
“Gosh dang it,” I muttered. “Already, Maxx? You’re going to chap my ass already? You said you needed help. I am trying to help.”