“In fact, let me tell you a thing or two.”
I didn’t say anything, figuring at least what she said would be interesting.
“You plan on treating me like the kid you think you hired? Fine. But I expect you to be polite, courteous, and fair. I don’t expect to be punished because I have breasts instead of a dick. I’ll do my work, and I will show you the respect you deserve as my boss as long as you show me the respect I deserve as an employee and a human being.” She drew in a much-needed breath. “You understand me, Maxx?”
I pulled into the driveway and brought us to a lurching stop. I climbed out of the truck and looked at her across the bench. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair tousled from the open windows. She was as angry as I was right now, her little fists clenched, and her brows drawn down in a frown. She was fucking adorable, and it made me angrier than ever.
“I hear you, Charly. You sure about that dick? Your balls are certainly big enough. Now, get your suitcase and follow me.”
I slammed the door, ignoring the screech of rage I cut off. I was glad I was walking away, because this time, I couldn’t stop my amusement.
And that pissed me off even more.Chapter 8CHARLYHolding my tongue, I followed Maxx as fast as I could. Entering the garage, I barely looked around as he headed swiftly toward the back. My suitcase bounced on the floor, one wheel spinning off and flying across the room.
“Shit,” I muttered, half carrying, half dragging it the rest of the way. I went through the office and down a short hall, trying not to shudder at the chaos the office contained. Papers were everywhere. Files piled up, boxes on every surface.
I knew where I was going to start.
I entered a room, trying not to look as horrified as I was feeling. This was where I would be staying. A room in the back of a garage.
I looked at Maxx, keeping my expression neutral, knowing he was waiting for a negative reaction and refusing to give it to him. I flung my knapsack on the bed. He glowered at me, indicating the room. His voice was laced with sarcasm as he gestured with his arm, pointing to the bed. “Your bedroom.” His finger moved to the single chair and the small TV on top of it. “Your entertainment area.” Another point to the corner, where an old but serviceable dresser stood. The wall had a few hooks drilled into it next to the wooden chest. “Your dressing area.” Then he opened the only other door in the room with a flourish. “Your spa.”
I didn’t even look, unsure if I could hide my reaction. I made a show of turning and inspecting the door. There was a lock on it, but not much better than I’d had at the apartment. The door felt solid, though, and I could shove the chair under the knob if I needed to. I crossed the small room and opened the curtain covering the window, and I couldn’t help my smile. Nothing but trees and grass as far as I could see. It was, at least, a pretty view—and private. And I was safe here. No matter how angry Maxx was, he wouldn’t hurt me—I knew this for sure. He had protected me before he even knew me, and I had discovered the gentler side of him last night.
Even if, as he insisted, it never happened.
I turned, crossing my arms. “Okay. I’ll unpack later. Next.”
His mouth tightened, and I wanted to stick out my tongue at him. He had hoped I would see where I was going to stay and want to leave. But he didn’t know how stubborn I could be—nor did he realize I had literally nowhere to go and no way to get there, even if I did. Once I paid for the bus ticket, my meal, and motel room, I had less than fifty bucks. I had to make this work.
He brushed past me, and I tried hard not to inhale his intoxicating scent. He might be acting like a bastard, but he certainly smelled good.
I followed him back through the garage, noting the contrast to the office. Everything was in its place, and it was meticulous. Large, with three bays, it was well-laid-out. I would have to investigate it later as I hurried to keep up with Maxx. We walked about fifty feet, him not saying anything until we got closer to a two-story house.
“Rufus will barrel out the door. He doesn’t bite, but let him come to you,” he said, his voice warmer as he spoke about his dog, but still removed.
“Sure.”
I stood back and waited as he opened the door, and a large dog loped out. He pushed against Maxx, happy to see him. Maxx, in turn, stroked his great head, murmuring low to him, and the dog gazed up at him adoringly. Then he spotted me and trotted over. I remained still, holding out my hand. He sniffed me, then lifted his head and let me stroke him. He was affectionate and happy, his tail wagging. I liked him.