Page 57 of Devil’s Disciples

“Like teddy bears?” I asked sarcastically. “We’re basically stuffed animals that can talk?”

Her eyebrows raised slowly. “And cook.”

“You submissive twit,” I said with a laugh. “You should have been born in 1950.”

Instead of responding, she looked away. While I stared at her in disbelief of her narrow-minded way of thinking, there was a knock on the door. I looked at the door and then at Holly. She gave a shrug of uncertainty.

“Come in?” I said, asking the question and giving permission at the same time.

The door opened, revealing none other than a jeans and wife beater clad Baker. I looked him over and then turned toward the three askew picture frames, leaving him standing behind me in an awesome pair of brown lace-up boots I’d never seen him wear.

“Well. Look what the cat dragged in,” I said over my shoulder.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

I was more excited to see him than I would have expected. Truth be known, I wanted him to rush in and kiss me, but I wasn’t about to say anything or even give him the subtlest of hints. Instead, I wanted to be a bitch.

It was something I was good at, and required far less thought than anything else. “Going great,” I said sarcastically. “Just doing some mild construction work.”

“Looks like it.”

I rolled my eyes and then looked at Holly, who was standing near the corner of my desk. With her mouth hanging open, she gazed beyond me, toward Baker. I wagged my eyes to get her attention, but she was impervious to my signals.

Eventually, I gave up and turned around. Baker’s beard was looking badass as usual, and his hair was brushed back and held in place with product. I dropped my gaze to his new boots, and then raked them up the length of his frame slowly. He looked delicious. When our eyes met, I fought not to show emotion. “I’m guessing you’ve been busy?”

He nodded. “I have.”

“Figured as much,” I said snidely.

He pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve been looking out of state at a few business ventures. One of the reasons I’m here, actually.”

“You came for business advice?”

“No,” he said. “I need a manager. In Arizona. I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

I wrinkled my nose. “In what?”

“Managing a sandwich shop.”

I cocked my head to the side dramatically. “In Arizona?”

“Flagstaff, to be exact.”

I cocked it to the other side, just as dramatically. “I’d be working for you?”

“Correct.”

“Uhhm.” I shifted my eyes toward the ceiling. After feigned deep thought for a moment, I met his curious gaze. “No.”

I turned around. Holly was still gawking at him. I cleared my throat and motioned toward the sideboard. “Make yourself useful, Holly. Grab the end of that. Let’s center it with the pictures.”

Baker beat her to it, picking it up before she could pick her jaw up off the floor. As I lifted the other end, he continued his full-court press.

“I’d pay you pretty competitively.”

“I’m a California girl,” I said. “Arizona isn’t my jam.”

“You were born in New York,” Holly said.