Page 33 of Unleashed

That is a good fucking question. One I spent the past two hours attempting to find an answer that was acceptable to give her. Ultimately, I came up with something that’s possible, but probably not the truth.

“I wanted to talk to you about the interviews we did yesterday.” Technically, I do. It’s just not the main driving force behind my insistence Maren spend a few minutes of her day here with me.

That had a little more to do with figuring out a way to give her some cushion in her checking account. While Maren was able to buy a used, accessible van, and her home is well-kept and tidy, she clearly doesn’t have a lot of extra money. After hearing how difficult Ruth’s life was, I know being a single mother is a struggle. And I don’t want Maren to struggle. Not when I can easily prevent it.

Maren’s eyes narrow. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re in charge of hiring. Bring on whoever you want.” She turns away from me, chin lifted. “I don’t care.”

I should let her claim go uncontested. It’s the easiest and most righteous path for me to take.

But I’m not a righteous man.

I lean close, invading her space. “I think you do care. I think you care very much.” I inch in a little more, chasing the lightly floral scent of her skin. “Specifically about the pretty blonde we met with last.”

Am I a fully committed bachelor? Yes. That doesn’t mean I’m so oblivious I don’t notice an attractive woman. But attractiveness is irrelevant. It says nothing about how hard of a worker someone will be. It doesn’t indicate their intelligence or their ethics or their kindness.

Maren, however, does seem to care about attractiveness, and at the mention of Lindsey, her glare fixes on my face. “So you admit you thought she was pretty?”

“Everyone thinks she’s pretty, Maren. Objectively, Lindsey is a pretty woman. Just like Brooke and Mariah and Ruth are pretty.” I swallow hard, my eyes moving over the woman next to me. I know I should have lumped her in with the group, but pretty doesn’t feel like a word that applies to Maren.

Not in any sort of way that matters.

It’s not meant to be an insult, but Maren clearly doesn’t understand that, because she goes from tolerating my presence to considering murder in the blink of an eye. The snarl she shoots my way is so vicious it could probably raise blood, and there’s venom in her tone as she says, “I’m glad to hear you’re surrounded by so many pretty women.” Then she’s on her feet, ready to storm out of the room.

Before she can even take a step, I hook an arm around her waist, intending to simply stop her. I must put a little more force behind the move then I planned, because I seem to knock Maren off-balance. She tumbles backward, dropping hard and fast onto my lap.

And I’m not mad about it. Actually, it’s a definite improvement over our previous seating arrangement.

I tighten the grip I have on her, forearm banded across her belly as I pull her back against my chest. Leaning into her ear, I offer a reminder. “Your time with me isn’t up.”

Now that she’s close like this, I can pull in a lungful of her scent. Breathe in enough to fully appreciate how surprisingly feminine it is. I was so distracted in the bathroom at Brooke and Toby’s I didn’t have the chance to really experience what it was like having Maren against me.

That’s a failing I intend to rectify now.

Maren isn’t a big person. She’s a full head shorter than me, and small framed. But I’ve seen the way she moves her daughter around. Watched her load and unload reams of paper. And I’ve witnessed her take on a man twice her size without batting an eye. So, like pretty, small doesn’t feel like a word that applies to her.

“Let me go.” She fights my hold. “I don’t need your money this badly.”

“Yes, you do.” My dick perks up as she continues squirming around. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here at all.”

“I changed my mind.” She grabs at my arm harder, this time digging her short nails into my skin. “It’s not worth it.” Her next move grinds her ass right against the line of my thickening cock, and I barely manage to stifle a groan.

Banding my other arm across her thighs, I pin her in place. My voice is rough as I lay down what I hope sounds like a threat. “You need to stop moving.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Her next shift is purposeful, the curve of her ass rolling along the line of my shaft. “I’m sure Lindsey would be more than happy to take care of that boner for you.”

Her direct response stuns me for a minute.

Then I start to laugh. It’s likely the wrong move, because it seems to piss her off even more. Now the nails digging into my skin aren’t a threat. They’re a weapon.

And it only makes shit worse.

The laugh dies in my throat, replaced by a groan as I imagine the marks she’s leaving behind. “Fuck, Maren. I don’t think you have any goddamn idea what you do to me.”

I’m not an easy guy to get along with. I’m not the sort of man who will outfit an entire kitchen or construct a swimming pool like Titus and Toby. I’m sure as shit not going to be building princess beds or impersonating farm animals like Tucker.

I’m the sort of man who pays a vicious woman to be alone in a room with him, then gets hard when she sinks in her claws.

My preference for unruly and untamable women has always existed. Maybe it’s because I like to fight. Maybe it’s because running a business has made me suspicious of anyone who seems too friendly. I wonder what they want from me, or what they’re trying to hide.