“Well, it was run by the owner, so I’d guess that’s sufficient enough.” I try not to take his reaction personally.
“I don’t like it,” he says, as he surveys the newly organized shelves.
“You don’t like being organized or you don’t like me?” Honestly, at this moment I’m betting it could go either way. McRae at the beach is not the same as the one I’m staring at.
“I don’t like being out of the loop.” He tries to frown down at me. “Have you ever worked in aviation before?”
“No.”
“How do you know if you’ve done all this correctly? Maybe you’ve wasted your time. Then I’ll have to fix it all and I’m pressed for time.” He gestures to the shelves. Ah, so that’s the real problem.
“Don’t be such a douche. I’ve had”—I glance at my watch—“nearly seven hours of uninterrupted time to work on this. You’d have gotten this far, too. Rest assured, it’s done to a standard even you would find acceptable. It’s not that hard to file gas receipts with gas receipts and flight logs with flight logs. Funny enough, I’m pretty good with the alphabet and sequencing items numerically. I can also read and reason.” I shrug as though it’s a crazy notion. “You could say hi, you know.”
His brow is furrowed and he opens his mouth as if he’s going to say more on the subject but instead pauses and the crease between his eyes relaxes.
“Hi,” he says with a smile. “Small world.”
“Isn’t it?” I grin back.
His smile is so genuine I can’t help make my own wider.
“Looks like you’re settling in. I admit I’m surprised by that,” he says.
I like McRae. I like the fact that he doesn’t always stare at my chest and talks to me like he talks to everyone else. Often men come at me with one objective, to get me out of my clothes, and I’m OK with that. I have hormones, too. But don’t talk to me as if I’m too stupid to know the agenda.
“Really?” I ask softly. “Why are you surprised?”
He shrugs. “I suppose I assumed you’d find Daytona a little too sleepy.” The way he emphasizes assumed is more a jab at him than me.
“I find Daytona to be just right. Odd how our paths keep crossing.”
He nods. “Yeah, the bar, the neighborhood—”
“And now here.” I laugh, touch his arm, and almost jerk back as sparks tickle my fingers. Goodness, he emits testosterone. There’s something seductive about a man in charge who isn’t waving his cock around to prove it’s big.
“So you plan on staying in the area for a while? I kinda figured you traveled around, preferring not to be pinned down anywhere.”
“Oh yeah? Why so?”
“Well, at the hotel your badge said you were from Washington. You sound like you’re from up North, not the Pacific Northwest.” He gives me a skeptical look. “And you moved down here with what...four bags? Strikes me as someone living on the fly.”
“More like someone just trying to experience life before I settle down.”
“I get that.” He nods, briefly lost in thought.
“So you’re the GM and the flight instructor?” That explains why this place is in the state it’s in. The owner is distracted with everything outside of his business and this guy’s carrying the load of two jobs. Maybe more.
“Yeah.” He rubs his palms over his eyes and stretches his shoulders back before he returns to brace himself against the wall. “I contract with other schools as well. Or I use to until this grew.”
My mind flashes back to the beach and it’s as if I have x-ray vision as I imagine his muscles rippling under his clothes.
“Well, now you have me here to help. I aim to please.” It’s a simple line that has no secondary meaning until I look from his green eyes and a muscle in his jaw jumps.
Drawn from my current reality, I go to a fantasy place where we take off all our clothes and try to steam up this little space to the point where it rains inside. He stands there all cocksure and large, his strong arms corded with muscles. Even his large black aviator’s watch turns me on. His white T-shirt stretches tightly across his chest, hinting at what I know is underneath.
“So, ah, you want to show me what you’re doing here? I mean, about all this.” He pushes off the wall and gestures to the reorganized storage area.
“Sure, and if you have a minute I’d like to schedule some time with you to go over the books. There’re some things I don’t understand.”
“There are lots of things I don’t seem to understand,” he mumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well, let me show you.” I turn back on the ladder. Using everything I have in reserve to not go primal and jump him, I channel the energy into showing him how I’ve organized the old files and stored them overhead. Inside the cabinet, easily obtained, are all the current records needed at a moment’s notice. I’ve also inventoried the office supplies and am keeping a running list on the computer stationed at my desk as well as a purchasing calendar. No more running out of fuel while I’m in charge.
“Wow, I don’t think this company has ever been this organized. What about the mess out there?” He points to the outer offices before he steps back and gestures for me to precede him. The space is small enough that I have to turn sideways to get past him. When I do, our fronts brush against each other and I place my hands on his biceps.
“Excuse me,” I say. Even in heels, my head reaches only slightly above his collarbone, and when I look at him, I see McRae in a whole new light. Perhaps he won’t need as much priming as I first thought.
Maybe it’s because I’m satisfied from all of today’s organization or because I really like this town. Maybe it’s how studly he looks in the flight gear or that he looks driven. Whatever the reason, I want him not because he’s cut from the cloth of gods, but because there’s loneliness in him I identify with. How his smile doesn’t always reach his eyes or that he thinks happiness can be found in a sweater-set-and-pearl-wearing socialite who’s likely been conditioned to climb the social ladder. A lifestyle like that never brought me happiness, and McRae is disillusioned if he thinks it will bring some to him. He’s got too much depth for the vapidness of pageantry.
He stares down at me and his green eyes wander to my piercing. His lips twitch. The sound of his vibrating phone breaks whatever was passing between us.
Rolling my eyes, I move out into the main office and see why he was so shocked when he first arrived. The place looks ransacked. Paper is everywhere, boxes thrown around the floor with recycling or shredding flowing out of them. I turn to make a joke about the mess but he’s totally engrossed in his phone, thumbs flying madly across the screen.
“Holy crap. I’ve never seen a phone be so busy as yours. Any of that business I can help with?” It’s annoying as hell. I want to snatch the phone from his hand and stomp on the screen. He’d definitely thank me later. Once he got past the shock and withdrawal.
“It’s mostly all business. We’ve always been short on office staff, so I sent all the calls to my phone as well as the emails. Some of it’s from my job at the University.”