Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

I pursed my lips and pointed behind him. “The facilities are to the left, third door down. You may change in there. I’ll have a list of tasks for you when you return.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he said, and gave me a mock bow before turning out of my office and down the hall connected to it.

I blew out a breath, my cheeks burning.

This would be the longest six weeks of my life.

Less than five minutes later, Connell rounded the corner, and lucky for me, I was already sitting down. Because sweet tea on a hot day, the man made the ugly brown jumpsuit look so damn good.

“Seriously?” I grumbled under my breath, tearing my eyes away from the way he’d tied the top half around his waist, the thick brown pants bunching along his strong abdomen.

“What?”

I shook my head and flung a piece of paper at him. He caught it easily against his chest.

“Mop the floors. Lubricate door hinges…” He cocked an eyebrow at me before continuing to read his list. “Clean the bathrooms. Clean basement which includes organizing back records.”

I held my breath, waiting.

For him to protest.

To whine.

To offer me a check in whatever number I wanted to make this all go away.

“All right, then,” he said. “Where might I find a mop and bucket, boss?”

I turned in my chair and gaped up at him.

That half-smile shaped his lips again.

I pointed toward the hallway connected to my office. “To the right, two doors down. You can get water from the facilities.”

He nodded, pocketing the list as he headed the direction I indicated.

Lacy whistled from her desk but kept her eyes trained on her computer. “I may need to call Dan up for a quickie on my lunch break because y’all are flinging that sexual tension all over the place.”

I scoffed. “Oh please,” I said, waving her off. “Do what you want with your husband, but there is absolutely nothing flying between Connell and myself.”

Lacy sucked her teeth. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sure as hell seems like it. Hell, feels like it. The way he was looking at you? Like you were a snack—”

“Stop,” I said, shifting in my seat. “You’re seeing things.” Because I was most certainly not his type. I wasn’t a model, not even close. I had curves. My stomach was soft, not toned, and my thighs were thick. I loved my body, but I definitely didn’t want to be scrutinized by a celebrity athlete who was used to dating stick figures. Not that I’d looked him up or anything.

“Okay,” Lacy said, somewhat softer. “Whatever you say, boss,” she teased.

Two hours later, Lacy had gone on her break, practically sprinting out the door and into her awaiting husband’s open arms. Newlyweds.

I hunched over my desk, buried in the plans for my biggest city addition yet.

“What’s an Ostrich Reserve?” Connell’s voice made me jump, and I dropped the papers I’d been reading all over the floor.

I hurried to scoop them up, but Connell was faster, already on his knees gathering the loose sheets. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest from the sight of him on his knees before me, those crystal blue eyes glancing up to mine as he handed me the chaotic pile.

I wet my lips and took the papers from him with slightly trembling fingers. “Thank you,” I said, and settled the paperwork back on my desk.

“So,” he said, eyeing the stack. “What’s that?”

I bit my lip, contemplating. My excitement outweighed my logic. “Can you keep a secret?”

He grinned. “I love secrets.”

I placed my palm on the papers. “I’m in the beginning stages of constructing an ostrich reserve.”

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “I gathered that much from the text. But what of it?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve gathered from running into our beloved Oliver statue with a four-wheeler, the bird is incredibly important to the town of Sweet Water.”

“You don’t say!” Connell said sarcastically, winking at me.

I pursed my lips at him. “As I mentioned before,” I said. “Ostrich Racing used to be the tourist attraction here in Sweet Water. It brought in the wealthiest from Charleston and all over South Carolina in the thirties.”

“Racing.” Connell shoved his hands in his pockets. “On Ostriches. I still don’t get it.”

“Well, yes,” I said, ignoring the way his blond hair fell just so over his forehead when he moved. “Obviously, I wouldn’t want to bring the exact races back—I’m humane, after all. But rescuing ostriches in need has always been a dream of mine, as well as bringing them back to Sweet Water as an attraction.”

His eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “Ostriches. Important. Got it.” He grinned. “How many have ye got?”

“How many what?”

“Ostriches,” he laughed.

“Oh,” I said, sighing. “I haven’t gotten any yet. I’ve only just started on the permits and potential properties.”

“Well, if you need any help—”