Luckily, it was one I was up for. I had zero interest in a hookup. I tried hard not to delve too deeply into the reasons behind it.

I woke on Saturday, hearing the bustle already outside the hotel, even though it was still early. LA never seemed to quiet down, even overnight.

I missed the peace of Littleburn. Waking up in the stillness of dawn, Rufus at my feet. Working on cars and motorcycles. Talking to people I knew.

And dammit, I missed Red. How she had wormed her way under my skin and past my defenses, I had no idea. I knew I liked her, but how much became apparent once I was away from her. She was always in the recesses of my mind, peeking out at the strangest times. I found myself thinking about her several times a day, storing away bits of information I knew she would like. Taking pictures I thought she would enjoy seeing since she wasn’t there with me.

Wishing, at times, that she were.

She made a point of calling me every day. She’d tell me what was happening with the garage, assuring me she was keeping an eye on Brett.

“He’s doing a great job, Maxx.”

I’d grunt my response.

“Want me to send you the work orders and deposits?”

I rubbed my eyes. “No.”

I still had alerts come in, and I saw Brett was staying busy. I didn’t care about the deposits; I cared about talking to her.

“Rufus misses you. I’ll send you pictures.”

And she did—every day. A new one of him lying on the grass in the sun. Sleeping on the floor of the office. One arrived last night of him on the foot of her bed, making himself comfortable. I tried not to be jealous of my dog, sharing her bed. I recalled how it felt to be beside her at night. The way she tucked herself into my chest, nestling tight. She liked to be held, and I had enjoyed having her close.

It was easier to admit that when she was twenty-five hundred miles away.

She never told me what she was busy doing, although I imagined it was a lot. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and she was damn good at the organizing part.

Best non-male Girl Friday I had ever hired.

I looked forward to her daily calls. The pictures. The way she made sure I was still connected to my life back home. I found myself teasing her, purposely asking her questions I knew would make her respond with one of her odd expressions.

“How’d you do that, Charly?”

“Oh, easy peasy!”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Holy moly, mister. You have no idea.”

“I appreciate all you’re doing.”

“Oh my. Would ya listen to that. The man has manners again.”

“That must have made you mad.”

“Totally chapped my ass.”

Each exchange made me smile and, somehow, miss her more.

I flung back the blanket and got up.

I was connected to her—in ways I never expected.

I cursed as I headed for the shower.

This was more complicated than I had thought it was. And I had no idea how to stop it.

Or, if I even wanted to.Later that afternoon, I headed across the lobby, needing a couple of Tylenol and a break. The event was packed, the auditorium overflowing, the noise level high. I had done three lectures and had three more to go later. For now, I needed a little quiet—and some room service.

“Maxx!” a voice behind me called. “Wait!”

I stifled a groan. Monique was one of the women who refused to take no for an answer. She was at every presentation, her leer frank and steady. She appeared no matter where I went, always a look of calculated surprise crossing her face when we would “bump” into each other. I turned down all offers of drinks, dinner, or her not-so-subtle offers of a quickie in the stairwell. Some men would be flattered by her attention, but I was finding it aggravating. She was one of the sponsors of the event, so I was careful and polite, but she refused to take the hint.

She stopped in front of me, smiling widely. “I saw you leave. I thought maybe we could get a bite together.” She pulled on a long, carefully sculpted blond curl, lifting her shoulder so her prominent breasts pushed forward from the leather vest she was wearing.

“Thanks, Monique, but not now. I have a headache, and I’m heading to my room.”

Wrong thing to say.

“Oh, I give great neck rubs,” she cooed. “I could come with you and, ah, ease that ache. Any of them you might have.” Her gaze dropped to my crotch, and I wanted to roll my eyes and tell her not to bother. There would be no response from my dick for her.

I was saved from telling her exactly what she could do with her neck rub by the sound of my phone ringing. I had never been as grateful to see the garage number flash across my screen as I was at that moment.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net