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The distance had the opposite effect on him. He snapped out of...whatever they’d been doing and gave a clipped shake of his head. He massaged the back of his neck and even took a step backward on his own, asking, “How much money do you make at the jewelry store?”
No way. No way he’d gone there. “What size is your penis?” she snapped.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Ex-large.”
His balls were that size, too. “Well, my paycheck isn’t your business.” It was so pathetic, she almost wished it wasn’t her business.
She carried her empty plate to the sink, at last spying her phone and keys...right next to a check for two thousand dollars, made out to her. She nearly hyperventilated as she clutched the small piece of paper to her chest. It was more than she’d ever had in her possession.
“I don’t...I can’t...”
“Don’t even think about refusing,” he said.
“I...I won’t.” She couldn’t. And she couldn’t face him, this man who’d just saved her from certain financial ruin. She’d finally do what her body wanted and throw herself at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her phone vibrated, signaling a text had just come in. She checked the screen to find three missed calls and four texts, all from Edna.
You’re late, Brook Lynn. I’m going to assume you meant to call and alert me?
Edna had never learned to abbreviate.
Where are you??????? the second text read.
Third: Are you coming in today or not?
Fourth: THIS IS VERY UNPROFESSIONAL MISS DILLON. PERHAPS YOU AREN’T SERIOUS ABOUT WORKING HERE OR BUYING THE SHOP.
Just peachy. “I’ve got to go,” she said on a sigh. “If you could give Jessie Kay a ride home, I’d appreciate it.” Brook Lynn continued to do her best to avoid looking at him, although her reason for doing so had changed. Reminded of her sister...reminded of what this man had done to Jessie Kay, with Jessie Kay, a flood of guilt swept through her.
I shouldn’t want to hold him or be held by him. I should want to slap him.
Jase opened his mouth, closed it. He ran a hand through his hair, the thick muscles in his arms knotting, his body radiating a frustration his facial features failed to project.
“I’d...like to offer you a job,” he finally gritted out.
That was what bothered him? The thought of offering her a job?
Wait. Back up. He actually wanted her to work for him? Shock forced her to meet his gaze once again. His eyes were darker, deeper...infinite. She shivered, her tone breathless as she asked, “A job?”
He inclined his head, saying more easily, “As my assistant.”
“Your assistant?” When had she become an echo?
Another incline of his head.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why do you need an assistant? What do you even do?”
“I live.”
“You live.” Echoing again. “What does that mean?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I have to fix this place up, make sure it’s safe. Habitable. I can’t do that if I’m always leaving to buy supplies.”
“So you’d want me to buy supplies?”
“Among other things,” he muttered.
“What other things?” Love-shack cleanup? Finding all the panties stuffed in his mattress?
“This and that.”
“Wow. You’re so informative.” But she needed another job. Desperately. Her Rhinestone Cowgirl wages weren’t enough to survive and thrive. “How much would you pay me? What hours would I work? Monday through Saturday, I wouldn’t be able to start until sometime after noon. And why do you want me?”
The words reverberated in her head, the burn returning to her cheeks. “I mean,” she added, “what skills do you think I bring to the table?” She’d graduated high school, sure—barely. After her mother died, she’d stopped caring about her grades. And after Uncle Kurt left, she’d been too busy working any odd job she could find, trying to make money and remove some of the burden from Jessie Kay’s shoulders. Delivering newspapers and running errands for her neighbors hadn’t exactly allowed her to build a sought-after skill set.
Jase thought for a moment, sighed. “You’re loyal and dedicated, two of my favorite things. In an employee,” he was quick to add.
Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. “How do you know I’m loyal and dedicated? This is only our third conversation.”
His expression said do we really need to get into that?
No, she supposed they didn’t. The answer was simple. The way she chased after Jessie Kay.
“I’ll pay you five hundred dollars a week,” he said.
What! Did he expect her to hand over a kidney, too? Did she care? The greatest opportunity of her life had just presented itself on a maple-syrup-soaked breakfast platter. And, really, the job would be easy. A basic fetch and carry, with a little of this and that on the side. Baking? Getting rid of one-night stands?
Done, done and done. With a smile.
But she couldn’t rush into anything, had to chat with her sister, weigh the pros and cons. “I need a day to think about it,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d expected such a response. “Call me tomorrow.”
“I’ll need your—”
“My number is already programmed into your phone.”
Uh... “How is it programmed into my phone? I didn’t add it.”
“No, you didn’t. But I did.”
How— Oh! There was no pass code to safeguard her list of contacts—because she couldn’t afford a new phone and had to make due with an old flip.
Her hands curled into fists. “You had no right to do that.”
“Delete it, then,” he replied, shrugging. “Whatever.”
“Delete what?” Jessie Kay strolled into the kitchen, looking as fresh as a daisy. No sign of a hangover, which hardly seemed fair. She patted Jase’s behind as she passed him, saying, “Hey, handsome. You sure are looking good this morning.”
His lips almost—almost—deepened into a scowl as he backed away from her. Did he ever feel anything? Really feel?
“What?” Jessie Kay asked with an unrepentant grin. “Just appreciating the machinery. Nothing wrong with that.”
Brook Lynn battled an intense surge of jealousy at the thought—
Jealousy? No, no. Indigestion. Almost definitely for sure there was a chance indigestion was all it was. “There’s food for you on the table,” she said, and her sister immediately changed directions. “After you eat, Jase will drive you home.” The indigestion grew worse. “Stay there. Please. After my shift at Edna’s, we need to talk.”
You were supposed to go see your doctor and ask out Brad today.
Well, crap. Forget the doctor and Brad. Forget the fun list. Opening lines of communication with Jessie Kay was far more important. How would her sister react to Jase’s job offer? Happy for her? Envious?
“Dude,” Jessie Kay said. “Don’t we have a shift at the restaurant tonight?”
As if she cared. Heck, as if she really would have shown up.
“News flash. We got fired.”
“What?”
“Mr. Calbert fired us. He said he couldn’t rely on us anymore.”
“Us? Or me?”
“Both of us. I got looped in because I couldn’t hack double shifts all the time.”
“Well, he did us a favor. I did us a favor.” Her sister shrugged. Actually shrugged. “That job sucked donkey balls.”
“Maybe, but we needed it.” Brook Lynn sighed. “Just...make sure you’re home when I get back from Edna’s. We need to talk about things. I mean it.”
“Sure, sure.” One slice of bacon vanished, then another, and her sister moaned with delight.
“I don’t think you heard me. You go home, you stay.”
Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. “I’m not a total slag. I said I’ll be there, so I’ll be there.”
“Like yesterday at work?”
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“I’d lost most of my stomach lining and probably a lung.”
That was fair. “All right.” Brook Lynn allowed herself a final glance at Jase—those dark eyes were still locked on her. She shivered, cursed herself and her apparent weakness for the forbidden and left the house.
* * *
BROOK LYNN PARKED her car in a lot a few blocks from Rhinestone Cowgirl. Edna claimed the spaces in front of the shop needed to remain free for customers, but the truth was she considered Rusty an abomination.
She wasn’t wrong.
As the sun glared, Brook Lynn raced down the sidewalk. People she’d known her entire life waved and hollered out greetings.
“Running late?” Virgil Porter asked from his rocker. Though he owned Swat Team 8—we assassinate fleas, ticks, silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats—he often sat with the owner of Style Me Tender Salon across the street from the jewelry store, playing checkers.
“Unfortunately,” she replied. In a town this small, everyone knew everyone else’s schedule.
“Explains why Edna was pacing the sidewalk, telling everyone who passed you’d broken her heart,” Mr. Rodriguez said. He gave the best buzz cut in a twenty-mile radius. His only competition, Rhett Walker, gave what Mr. Rodriguez referred to as “bootleg butchers” in his mother’s garage.
“Edna’s going with a broken heart?” Peachy. Usually, whenever Brook Lynn messed up, she went with betrayed trust.
Brook Lynn flew through the shop doors so late she’d missed more time than she would actually work, a horror of horrors for a perpetual early bird.
“I’m so sorry, Edna.”
The owner of the RC leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
Brook Lynn expected to be scolded, wanted to be—deserved it—but in the ensuing minutes Edna somehow made her feel as if she’d dropped an H-bomb on the town.
Oh, the guilt trip.
“Do you know how many frantic calls I had to deal with this morning, people wondering if I was going out of business?” Edna asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“Two!”
Wow. That many?
“It ruined my entire morning, Brook Lynn—you ruined it. And after everything I’ve done for you.”
“I’m sorry, Edna,” she said again. “I promise to bring you a Swiss enchilada casserole tomorrow. Your favorite.”
Edna dabbed at eyes that weren’t even close to watery. “You were once my favorite, too. I loved you like the daughter I never had.” Edna had always been one of those people who craved the sympathy hardship bought her and milked every situation to her advantage. “It’s like my heart is breaking right inside my chest.”
“You actually have a daughter,” Brook Lynn pointed out.
“Yes, but she’s such a disappointment. You never were...until today.”
Ouch.
Edna puttered around the shop, dusting display cases that didn’t need to be dusted. She was a short, round woman with miraculously unlined skin and a pretty crop of silver hair. Her cheeks were always rosy, and to be honest, she could have passed for Mrs. Santa Claus...until she opened her mouth.
“Caroline moved to the city to attend massage school, you know,” Edna continued, stuck on the topic of her daughter. “Never mind the fact that I have back pain and could use a healing touch every now and then.”
Brook Lynn faded in and out of the ensuing lecture about giving being better than taking, offering the occasional “Mmm-hmm” and “You’re so right.” Heard this a thousand times before. But at least they were back on familiar territory.
