Page 28 of Zach
out sunglasses I packed for just this occasion. I’ve only been here a few hours, and already this is the
weirdest place I’ve worked.
But just maybe, there’s room for my kind of weird here too.
5
ZACH
S he’s wearing sunglasses. Not a sexy pair. Not even an off-the-rack pair from Walmart. Nope,
she’s wearing full-on old-people sunglasses. The kind that presses against her forehead and
wraps right around to her temples.
Who the fuck is this woman? And what the hell did I do, hiring her?
I stand in her doorway, waiting to be noticed. She brings an apple to her mouth and takes another
big bite, a fine mist spraying from the crisp fruit. Her mouth, that luscious, too big for her face mouth,
is completely distracting. I clear my throat, tired of waiting for her to acknowledge me.
She shrieks, her bite of apple flies across the small space separating us, and lands on the tip of my
two thousand dollar Ferragamo loafers. I stare down at the offending chunk of fruit.
“Jesus, you scared me,” she says, slapping her hand on her chest and sucking in a deep breath. My
eyes are drawn to that bountiful chest, despite my best efforts to ignore them. Maya Miller is a
distraction I was not expecting. The low-level buzz of attraction I’ve been feeling toward her today is
inconvenient. The woman’s not my type.
Ok, she is. But only because I like all women.
But the clothes and shoes are fucking hideous.
“You spit food on my shoe,” I say flatly, pulling my gaze away from her and staring down at the
offending piece of fruit.
“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters. Her hands land in my field of vision, then the back of her head. Her
dark hair falls loose, the ends trailing on the floor as she carefully picks up the chunk of apple, then
uses the side of her hand to wipe off the juice.
She sits back on her heels and looks up at me, a rosy blush on her cheeks, eyes still hidden by
those hideous sunglasses. “Sorry. All better.”
She’s on her knees in front of me, her head—
I’m snapped out of my stupor as she begins to rise. I reach for her to help her up. The loose sleeve
of her dress falls back and I’m gripping her soft, warm skin. The tips of my fingers tingle, and I
