We get about halfway through our burgers when he pins me with a look. “Can I assume that since you’ve not said a single word about my car, it’s really, really bad?”
I take another bite of burger, stalling. The disgruntled scrunch of his face turns me on more than it should. “It’s not as bad as it could be.”
“But it is some level of bad.”
“Yes, but…at least you don’t have to replace the engine,” I say with a cheerful shrug. “Just a head gasket.”
“That doesn’t sound cheap.”
“It isn’t.”
He inhales sharply, opening his mouth to say something. In the end, he decides to close it, choosing instead to stare at the table. The slump of his shoulders is more than I can bear, and the cock-blocking idea comes tumbling out of my mouth.
“Look, Knox. You did me a solid today by taking care of the phones. It was stupid of me to try and get by without an office manager. We’re just too busy for that. I know this will delay some things for you, but maybe we can trade off some of the cost of the work for your office skills.”
He brings his thumb to his mouth, chewing on the nail. “How much is the repair?”
I wrinkle my nose, wishing I could make it better. “I typically charge fifteen hundred for a head gasket, though usually a little more for a Honda because it’s such a pain in the ass to manage.”
Tears immediately spring to his eyes, and he lowers his head, running his hands through that untamed hair. Needing to find a way to get him to stop crying, I spell out the rest of my solution.
“I can pay fifteen dollars an hour for office work. I won’t charge you the pain-in-the-ass fee for your Honda, so that means we could trade for about one hundred hours of work. Bev’s hours are usually eight-thirty to five, with a half-hour for lunch. So that’s about two and a half weeks’ worth of work. You didn’t say how much time you had, but I figure we can make it work out. What do you think?”
He wipes his eyes, embarrassment on his cheeks. “Why would you do that for me?”
I shrug. “You saw how it was. It’s a mess and a half without someone taking care of the office. And it’s been pissing off customers, so this feels, I don’t know, like a win-win.”
Knox lets out a relieved breath as if the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders. “I just need to think for a second about lodging and food and all of that…” He trails off.
“My couch is your couch. Not like you could go anywhere else, anyway. I’ve got your car. And I don’t mind sharing my food with you. No charge,” I tack on with a smile.
He looks deeply uncomfortable, and I take hold of his forearm. “Honestly, you’re helping me out. This isn’t all that generous of me, I promise. Take the deal.”
He shivers, and my jaw tenses. I think he likes the command. “Make it three weeks to cover my expenses, and I will.”
He juts out his jaw defiantly, and I smile at his backbone. “I’m not going to say no to extra help,” I respond, extending my hand across the table. “Deal.”
He takes my hand, his grip soft even though his palms are slightly calloused. “Deal,” he says, serving up dimples.
I tighten my grip and remind myself that I can’t just pull him in for a kiss. He’s my employee now, and that wouldn’t be right. With effort, I pull my hand back and pick up my burger. He does the same, and we finish the meal as quietly as we started it.
Rising, he picks up my plate and walks the dishes over to the sink. He turns on the water and grabs a sponge.
“You don’t have to do my dishes.”
“If you cook, then I clean. When I cook, you can clean,” he says, batting his eyes at me.
“Fine.” I grab the rest of the things, pile them by the sink, then walk to the living room and flop onto the couch. As careful as I’ve been with setting up my finances, I promised myself that I’d never skimp on furniture or shoes.
After a few minutes, he joins me and lets out an adorable chuckle. “The Great British Bake-Off?”
“Don’t laugh. It’s relaxing.” I elbow him when he continues to laugh.
The A/C kicks on, and my brilliant plan to go shirtless is not so brilliant after all. Especially when my nipples turn to diamonds and Knox’s gaze keeps catching on them.Do not imagine his mouth on them.
He shivers, rubbing his bare arms and legs, and the not-imagining-his-hot-mouth-on-my-nipples goal dies a quick death. I hand him a couch throw, distraught when he wraps himself up in it, covering up the miles of skin I’ve been panting over.
He drags his eyes from my nipples to my lips. “Just kidding. I’m only laughing because I like it too. I used to watch this with my mom.”
