Coming from him, the words don’t even sound boastful. He says them as fact, like I should be as certain of him as I am that the sky is blue.
“So why can’t I check your references?”
He puts his palms flat on my desk. “Because you already have the best reference possible, Gabe. It’s none of your business why I left, because it has nothing to do with my ability to harvest your fields. So what’s it going to be? You in, or you out?”
The silence hangs thick between us. It’s ninety and humid today, and despite the air conditioning blasting through the vents, a bead of sweat trickles down my spine.
Our eyes lock, the air so tense you could cut it.
This is without a doubt the worst interview I’ve ever conducted in my life.
Everything about this interaction screams that while I might be the boss, he’s got the upper hand and doesn’t respect my authority. If I hire him, he’ll challenge me every step of the way. As sure as I’m sitting here, if he works for me, we will do battle.
Obviously, this is a bad match for someone I need to work with closely.
More than anything, I want to send him on his way so I never have to lay eyes on him again. Except once again, I’m desperate, and Gabe trusts him. And my instincts also tell me he’s not bullshitting, that he’ll deliver what he’s promised.
I have a lot of faults, but my instincts aren’t one of them.
So even though it kills me and gives him far too much power, I’m going to put my family, and our business, ahead of my dislike. With as much grace and dignity as I can muster, I take a fresh piece of paper and write down my offer before folding it and handing it to him. “That includes room and board. You can move your stuff in tonight and start first thing tomorrow.”
He flips open the folded note, reads it, and nods. “Why don’t you show me where to put my stuff.”
Only time will tell if this is the best or worst decision I’ve ever made.
I stand and hold out my hand. “Welcome aboard.”
His big palm slides into mine, and an electric shock races along my skin. “You won’t be sorry.”
When our hands part, his rough, calloused fingers scrape across my palm and my skin heats. I narrow my eyes and say in a hard voice, “We’ll see about that.”
Caden
I follow Cat McKay out of her office and down a narrow corridor that leads outside. Maybe my tactics are unorthodox, but they got the job done.
As she walks in front of me, my gaze slides over her golden brown hair, which is pulled off her neck in a messy ponytail, along the line of her neck, down the curve of her back and dip of her waist in a white tank top, to her perfect ass in tight, faded jeans.
She’s tiny. Tiny enough to put in all sorts of interesting positions. And her body is fan-fucking-tastic. But that’s not my worry. Good bodies are a dime a dozen.
It’s her face that’s the real trouble.
Unusual steely gray eyes, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth set off perfectly by her peaches-and-cream skin. Individually, taken apart piece by piece, Cat McKay should be wholesome and pure looking, but put together, well, that’s a different story.
She’s not exactly sexy. She’s more… I don’t know the word. But it’s something.
She has a vulnerability about her that makes me want to violate her.
Not that I will, because I’ve made the mistake of mixing business and pleasure a few times before, and I’ve finally learned the lesson.
But if I’d met her in a bar, I’d have taken her home and done filthy things to her.
That skin is just made to be flushed.
I’m going to have to ignore that.
I’m thirty-six, with a healthy self-destructive streak that’s forced me to start over one too many times, and I’m tired of it. I’ve been living on the road for the past six months, driving from place to place, crashing on couches, running.
I’m done. It’s time to get my shit together.
I played a good game because I knew all Cat McKay’s cards before I even walked in the room. But despite what I said, how I acted, I need her as much as she needs me.
I miss the feel of digging my hands into dirt.
That fine sheen of dust, grit, and sweat over my body at