Series: Shifter Ops Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
I blink at the sunlight flooding my bedroom. It’s way brighter than it should be at six am.
I snap up into a sitting position. What time is it?
The alarm clock reads nine thirteen am. I slept through my alarm.
The hall floor creaks, and my bedroom door glides open.
“Oh, hey, you’re awake.” Channing leans against the frame, balancing a laundry basket on his opposite hip. “Do you have any laundry? I’m doing a load. Geo showed me your system.”
Laundry? System? “What?”
A dimple pops in Channing’s cheek. “Never mind. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”
He disappears. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and touch my head in horror. My hair is a wild, static-y mess. I’m wearing the low-cut nightie I wore in my dream. My nipples are taut peaks. I grab my comforter and pull it up to my neck.
Channing’s footsteps announce his return. He must have walked on the creaky spots of my hardwood floors on purpose. When he wants, he can glide like a cat–though I’d never compare him to a cat unless I wanted to annoy him.
He sails into my bedroom, way too chipper for early morning. “Here you go.” He hands me a mug, and the delicious coffee scent wafts over my face.
“Thanks,” I mumble. “I overslept. My alarm clock–”
“I turned it off,” Channing straightens my bed blankets with one hand and holds a slice of cold pizza with another.
“You did what?”
“You needed sleep.” He takes a bite of pizza.
“I can’t believe you.” I slide out of bed. “I’m late for work.”
“You set your own schedule, right?”
“I can’t… You can’t… I just…”
“Take it easy,” Channing soothes. “I gave Geo a ride to school. Don't worry we didn't take my bike. He wasn't feeling the bus this morning, so I took him in the truck. I'm surprised the engine didn't wake you. You really needed sleep, huh?”
I’m an articulate person. I can speak rationally, lay out an argument. But when I open my mouth, I’ve got nothing.
“Drink your coffee,” Channing prompts with his pizza hand, and I automatically stick my nose in the mug. The scent helps to wake me up.
“Good girl.” The right side of his mouth quirks up. And that dimple.
Oh my God. I can’t believe he called me good girl. Worse, I can’t believe my reaction to the words.
He saunters to my closet and picks up my laundry basket. He’s humming a song–sounds like one of Taylor Swift’s new hits.
He catches me staring and salutes me with the slice of pizza. “Pizza for breakfast, I’m telling you.” He walks out before I can decide how to kill him.
I make it to my desk in time for my first meeting with Mr. van den Berg. With only a few minutes to get dressed and tame my hair, I didn’t have time to hunt Channing down and kill him. But I plan to. Thank God, I automated my follow-ups for the meeting last night before I let him in the house and lost all self control.
Is he going to infiltrate every inch of my house? My life? It’s bad enough that I had a sex dream about him. Every time I close my eyes, I relive seeing him naked.
And since when does he do laundry?
My office smells like him. Did he come in here?
I face my computer and try to look professional for the camera.
“Julia,” Mr. van den Berg greets me. “I accepted all the changes. The contract should be in your inbox.”
“Thank you, sir.” I say. A loud banging noise drowns out my words. Someone’s hammering something on my roof. I hold up a finger. “Excuse me, one moment.”
I mute myself and walk to the window, out of sight of the camera. I wrestle with the ancient sash until it opens–Geoffrey and I were going to replace the windows, and I never got around to it–and holler, “Be quiet! I’m in a meeting!”
The hammering stops.
I smooth my hair and paste a calm smile to my face. When I sit back down at my desk, my boss looks concerned.
“I apologize for the noise,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”
“Not a problem,” he says. “Do you have roofers there?”
“Yes, sort of. It’s my brother-in-law. He's doing some work around the house, and I didn’t realize he’d be fixing the shingles today.” On-screen, my reflection’s eye twitches. I suck in a deep breath. Calm, rational, in control–that's me.
“Your brother-in-law is still there?”
“Yes, he's going to be staying with us for a while. It's a long story.” I hope I don’t have to recount it, but Mr. van den Berg looks curious.
“I didn’t realize you were so close.”
“We haven’t seen him for almost ten years,” I confess. “Not since Geoffrey's funeral.” Normally I wouldn’t share so much with a work colleague, but this is my boss, and he’s been so supportive.