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I move to a stack of files on top of a filing cabinet and stretch to bring them down. He’s up instantly, and his body presses against mine as he reaches for the file. I lower my gaze to see his shirt pulled up slightly, showing a small patch of hair running down his stomach—a garden path.
I try not to blush, but I picture where it leads, and my face feels red with embarrassment.
He hands me the files, and I bring them to the table, where I go through them slowly. He remains standing, filling the room even more than he did before. When he was pressed against me, I could smell his scent: a strong and woody cologne.
I would be remiss if I didn’t say he was extremely handsome and good to look at. A little too attractive to be a butcher's son.
“You always work in a good suit?” I ask. “It looks tailored like it's something expensive.” I glance at him, and he meets my gaze.
“I like to look presentable at work. My father instilled that in me: always look your best because you never know where you’re going to end up on any given day.” He shrugs off my comments. “You’re also dressed rather nicely for someone coming to check files.”
“I am professional at all times,” I explain. “As a woman, it’s tough to be taken seriously in this day and age, despite the progress we’ve made. So, I make sure I always look ready to take on the world because I am ready.”
He leans over me and looks at the files with me. “What are you looking for anyway? Maybe I can help you.”
“I’m just going through things, seeing how this shop ticks.” I don’t look at him as I speak. I can’t admit that I don’t know what I’m looking for; I’m looking for something that stands out and makes this place special.
“Why? Wouldn’t you need to know that before you bought it?” His logic irritates me. He’s getting in my way. If I had my guard here, I could have made him leave, but I also didn’t want to sour him against our family and cancel the purchase. My father would be furious.
“Look, you don’t have to stay with me. You can go back to work.” I am halfway through this pile of files, quickly flipping through the pages.
“You may need me to reach other things for you,” he murmurs. He steps back then and leans against the wall.
I rifle through the papers, and the awkwardness of the silence is palpable. I hate it
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask quietly.
“I have three brothers, all three married, so I have sisters too now.” He crosses his arm. “Yourself?”
“Two, an older one and a younger one. I’m the middle child. Only girl.” He returns the papers to their stack for me and brings me down another stack.
“That can’t be easy, being the only girl.” He runs a hand through his hair, and my heart flutters slightly. “Having to prove yourself against your brothers.”
“It can be trying, but I’m confident in my abilities, so I’m not worried. Pets?” I ask—anything to stave off the awkward silence.
“Not really a pet type. You?” he asks.
“I had a dog that passed last year. I love dogs but haven’t had the heart to get another one,” I explain.
There’s nothing of use here. I sigh and look around. “Is this all the files?”
His phone goes off, and he checks it before he looks at me. “Uh, no. There’s a shed out back with more files. Maybe what you’re looking for is in there.”
“Maybe I’ll try one more stack here, and then you can take me to that shed. And then, honestly, you can go back to work. I’m not afraid of some papers.” I grab some more files, and this time, I sit behind the desk and start rifling through them.
“If you told me what you’re looking for, I could help you a lot faster or ask my father to help. Most of the stuff in here is ancient.” He blows dust off a stack of papers and dusts himself off.
I cough slightly and shake my head. “I’m just looking over reports and things. You honestly don’t have to stay.”
“I insist,” he says. “I’m always happy to help a beautiful young lady.”
I blush slightly and go straight back to the papers. He fidgets with documents on the shelf, and we fall back into that horrible silence. I can’t stand it.
Maybe that’s why my father doesn’t trust me—I’m such a chatterbox. Perhaps he thinks I’ll tell people about the family business? That’s preposterous, though. He should know I know to keep my mouth shut.
I flip a report a little more violently than intended, and the butcher’s son looks at me curiously. “Everything okay?”
“Can you take me out back to the rest of the paperwork?” I ask, standing up. “I’m just not finding what I want here.”
