Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“I have work to do,” I said, returning focus to my computer.

“So! You always have work to do. You rarely stop working.”

“Your point?”

“If there was ever a time to stop working, it’s to take a ride with Connell freaking MacDhuibh!”

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “Lacy, he’s going to be working under me for the next six weeks. Not that there is anything there, but even if there was, it would be highly inappropriate to engage in such a relationship with a coworker.”

Lacy smacked her hand on her desk, gaping at me. “He’s not technically your employee. Not like I am.”

“He’s still under my charge.” I waved her off. “Not another word on the matter, please,” I said and winked at her. “You can clock off early if you’d like.”

She brightened at that. “Thanks, Annabelle.” She squeezed my shoulder as she walked past my desk. “And you know, six weeks isn’t that long of a time.”

“Meaning?”

She shrugged as she headed toward the exit. “Once he’s completed his service you two could—”

“You’re impossible!” I laughed. “Go! Have fun tonight. Not everyone is drowning in newlywed lust like you are.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she left.

When the quiet settled over my office again, I let out a deep breath, the tension in my shoulders tightening from the workload I had ahead of me.

And before I could stop myself, I started humming.

Connell’s song.

Scythe was crammed nearly wall-to-wall with Reapers, so much so it was almost impossible to squeeze my way to the bar Echo currently hustled behind.

“Annabelle!” She said when she saw me. “Make room,” she said, eyeing a couple of Reaper rookies. They hurried off their stools and made their way to the pool tables in the back of the bar.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, taking the seat anyway.

“Of course, I did,” she said. “They had their drinks anyway.” She shrugged and wiped some stray purple strands off her forehead.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, eyes trailing to her still-flat belly.

“Morning sickness is a real bitch,” she said, smoothing a hand over her tummy. “But at least I can choose which shifts I work. Nights aren’t nearly as bad.”

“You don’t have to work at all—”

“Oh no you don’t,” she cut me off, wagging a finger at me. “Not you too. Sawyer has already brought it up a hundred times.”

I raised my hands in defense. “We care about you.”

“I know. And I’m not the first woman in the world to get pregnant. I’ll work until I feel like I can’t anymore. Nothing has changed.”

I arched a brow at her.

“Well,” she said. “Except for the fact that I can’t take shots with my customers anymore.” We both laughed at that. “Speaking of,” she said. “Do you want a vodka soda or just a soda?”

“Soda and lime, please,” I said, rubbing the tight knot on my left shoulder.

“Not one for drinking on a work night, still?” She asked, pouring the drink and sliding it toward me.

“No,” I said, sipping the bubbly soda water. “I have an early morning. I’m only here because—”

“There’s the boss,” Connell’s voice cut me off as he pushed his way toward the bar. He eyed Echo. “One more, please.” He set an empty glass tumbler on the bar.

Echo smiled, her eyes flashing between the two of us before she got to work on his drink.

“Did you get your work finished?” He asked, his body so close it was an effort not to brush against it with even the simplest of moves.

“No,” I said, rubbing that spot on my shoulder again. “I never do, and I don’t believe I ever will. There is a never-ending list on my schedule and I’ve come to the conclusion I won’t finish it until I retire.”

“Here you go,” Echo said, sliding Connell’s drink toward him.

“Thanks,” he said, then eyed where I was currently massaging myself. “You injure your shoulder?”

I laughed, then quickly dropped my hand. “Not so much,” I said, fiddling with the condensation on my glass. “It happens sometimes when I stare at my computer for too long. Always the same spot.”

Connell set his drink down, hands poised over my shoulders as he eyed me in question. “May I?”

My lips parted, hesitance tying my tongue.

“I had a small shoulder injury in the minors,” he said. “My PT taught me a trick.”

I flashed a glance toward Echo, who quickly found customers at the other end of the bar to attend to. “Okay,” I said, my cheeks warming at the fact that he’d waited until the approval left my lips before touching me.

And then he did.

His hands were warm and strong and somehow knew the exact spot that tortured me.

Using his whole hand, not just his thumb, he slid over the knot with a sweet pressure that loosened the muscle with each pass. I immediately relaxed under his touch, unable to prevent the half-sigh, half-moan that escaped my lips as he continued to work at it.