Changing Roles

A turkey sandwich. Unlike the deli-type offerings Marie would put in front of me, there was no processed fake meat—it was made with real turkey. The sandwich was so big, I could barely get my hands around it. There was even stuffing in it, just the way I liked it. She also handed me a carton of milk, and once I finished exclaiming over the sandwich, offered me a container of the best cupcakes I had ever tasted.

I grinned at her, my mouth full.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“This is an interview,” she retorted dryly.

“Will you bake me these cupcakes again?”

“Yes.”

“Will you make me turkey sandwiches every week? More, if I want?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make biscuits?”

She furrowed her brow. “Like savory biscuits?”

“No, you know, cookies. Chocolate chip ones. Or peanut butter. Yeah, peanut butter ones. Can you make those?”

She laughed. “Yes, I can.”

“Do you do laundry?”

“Yes.”

“Can you buy me some new shorts?”

“Shorts?” she questioned.

“Underpants,” I clarified. “Marie—she was pawing at my stuff. I don’t know which ones she touched, so I threw them all out.”

She arched her eyebrow. “So, right now—”

“I’m commando. Yes.”

Her amusement was loud and rich. I grinned just hearing it as I stuffed another cupcake in my gob. They were amazing.

“Yes, I can get you new underwear.”

“Shorts.”

“You’re in America, Britboy. You wear shorts on the beach. We call them underwear.”

I grinned at her. I liked her—a lot.

She eyed me speculatively. “After Everett told me what happened, I was looking around the web, and I saw a few other posts. She wasn’t only selling your underwear, just so you know.”

I looked down at my T-shirt and grimaced. “Bloody hell. I thought the dresser drawer seemed empty.” I pulled at the material. “I wonder what was wrong with this one?”

“It’s a bit thin. I’m sure she went for the best.”

“You mean she probably touched it?”

Shelby’s smile was gleeful. “Oh, I’m sure she did. Many times.”

“I feel dirty. Maybe you could also throw them out and get me new ones.”

“Bleach works well too.” She grinned mischievously. “Gets rid of Marie cooties.”

I chuckled. “I’ll leave it to your discretion.”

“I think I can handle that.”

I nodded as I shoved in another cupcake. I was subtle about it, and I was sure she hadn’t noticed. I was also sure there was something else I should ask.

“Do you know how to clean a house?” I asked as cupcake crumbs blew out of my mouth. I looked at my lap. Maybe not as subtle as I thought.

Now she rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Then it’s all covered.” I sat back in triumph.

Who said this would be hard?

I’d asked all the pertinent questions. Stupid Everett—what a git. “You’re hired.”

She smiled, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re easy.”

“Tell that to your brother. He thinks I’m a pain in the arse.” I winked at her. “I think, Shelby, this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“I hope so, Mr. Wright.”

“Liam.”

She smiled. “Liam.”LiamPresent dayA plate appeared before me, two large sandwiches stacked on it, along with some pickles. Shelby always added some pickles, and now I was addicted to them with my sandwiches. Beside it, Shelby placed a large glass of milk and a plate of cupcakes, as well as the bottle of whiskey and another glass. Everything I needed. I grinned at the meal, already anticipating how good it would be.

“I’m going to bed now. Leave the dishes on the counter. Don’t stay up all night, and don’t drink too much whiskey. You know you can’t handle it.”

Smiling, I reached for a sandwich. She could sleep now, because I was back in the house. I was glad I had come home early. I didn’t like to think of her not sleeping. “I’ll eat and have the whiskey to relax. Then I’ll go to bed. Ta, Beaker.”

Shelby cuffed the back of my head. “Don’t call me that, Oscar.” Then she grinned and dropped a kiss on my head. “Night, Liam.”

“Night, Shelby.”

I took a huge bite of my sandwich, as she left the room to go to her suite on the top floor.

Yeah, it was good to be home.I shuffled into the kitchen, one hand buried in my hair, the other one clutched against my stomach. I shouldn’t have knocked back so much whiskey last night after Shelby went to bed.

I felt rather wonky.

I needed to find Shelby. She’d do something and make me feel better. She always knew how to make me feel better.

Instead, I found her brother sitting at my table, drinking coffee and chuckling over something on his laptop. I stifled a groan. I couldn’t handle Everett at the moment.

Silently, I slid my feet back, trying to exit the room before he spotted me, but to no avail.

“Nice try, Liam. Get your sorry ass in here.”

I let the groan escape this time and moved over to the table, sitting down heavily. “Where’s Shelby?” I mumbled, my voice thick and scratchy.