Page 20 of Zach
“Well, we can arrange to have it sent for you. Just email me the details.”
“I don’t want it sent.”
He sets the suitcases down and runs his fingers through his hair. It barely moves. It goes right back
to where it was. Is it gel that makes it do that? Would it be crunchy under my fingertips when I touch
it? Or maybe it’s just been whipped into submission, terrified of not meeting up to his perfectionist
standards.
His big chest expands with his deep breath. “I don’t understand.”
“I do,” Jonas says. I forgot he was there. Not sure how, since he’s gargantuan. Ok, not gargantuan,
but at five foot nine, I’m not used to being loomed over the way these men do. To be fair, they’re just
standing there, but it feels like looming. It’s a little unsettling. “You’re taking the probation period
seriously, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. There’s no point in moving everything if I don’t like it here. And if I do, I can have my
things sent to my new home, not the temporary apartment here.”
“Logical,” he says with a nod, looking over my head. I wait for him to say more, but he’s done.
Short, sweet, and to the point. I think I’ll like him. His brother, I’m less sure about.
That tick is back next to Zach’s eye. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of it. “You’re ready to
give up that easily?”
“Give up? This job?” When he nods, I smile. “That’s a very calculated choice of words. To give
up implies loss. Very clever. However, if I choose to leave this position, I won’t be giving up. I’ll be
choosing something different. Something better for me. So you can save the subtle manipulation for
someone else. It won’t work on me.”
His eyes flare in challenge, but he pushes it down. Too bad, it would have been nice to see him
less buttoned up. In my experience, people are always going to show you who they are, eventually. I’d
rather that happen sooner rather than later.
He hums low in his throat and puts that charming smile back on as he picks my suitcases back up.
“I see. Well, let’s get you upstairs.”
He waves me toward the elevator, lifting one of my very heavy bags to point. The muscles of his
shoulder bunch as they easily adjust to the weight. We ride up in silence. Jonas stares at the wall, his
fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh, but not like he’s agitated. More like it’s a habit.
Zach doesn’t look as relaxed. The tension in his shoulders and the twitch at the corner of his eye
