to make seein’ her that much harder. Who was the fuckin’ genius who encouraged her to go back to work? Oh, right. Me.
“What days you workin’ again?” he asked, taking a bite of eggs.
“For now? Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and every other Sunday.”
“What’re you doin’ on Tuesdays and Fridays?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to pick up some extra hours.” She shrugged. “You want orange juice?”
“Sure,” he said. Then, “Huh.”
“What’s ‘huh’ mean?” she asked, taking the juice out of the fridge and grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. She sat back down, pouring them each a glass and sliding his glass over to him. “Huh?”
Is this a good idea? Bad idea? Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know how this fuckin’ works. I just know I need to see her. A lot.
“Why don’t you come work for me?” he asked.
Her eyes widened, and she grinned at him in surprise. “Work for you? You mean . . . fix motorcycles?” She wrinkled her nose in a way he’d always thought was fucking adorable. “I don’t know the first thing about—”
“I need someone to answer the phones, don’t I?”
“Oh . . . you mean, be your secretary?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what you call it. Answer the phones. Say hi to people.”
“Receptionist.”
“Yeah. That,” he said, taking a gulp of orange juice.
She rolled her lips between her teeth for a moment, then licked them. Oh, fuck, Gin, I’m a weak man, please stop. He looked away from her, back down at his plate, and speared another cluster of eggs with a little too much force.
“Whoa! What’d that egg do to you?”
This egg is on a plate that’s on a table that’s between my body and your body so I fuckin’ hate this egg. I want to lunge across this table and kiss you senseless until you’re beggin’ me to fuck you until the sun sets and rises all over again. That’s why I hate this goddamned egg.
“So?” he prompted her, frowning at his plate before looking up at her.
“What’re the hours, boss?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sassy. Damn, but he fucking loved her sassy.
“Twelve to seven.”
“Late hours.”
“I like sleepin’ in,” he growled. And I’d like it even better next to you, princess.
She grinned. “And how much you goin’ to pay me?”
And that’s when it occurred to him: She’s sayin’ yes. She’s fuckin’ sayin’ yes. I’m goin’ to see her every Tuesday and every Friday.
“Seventy-five bucks a day.”
“Ninety-five,” she countered.
“Done.”
“Done,” she said, her smile blinding.
He stared at her—at her blonde hair, golden in the sunlight that streamed through the window over the sink, and at her pink lips that he was dying to taste again. Soon, brother. Soon.
She held out her hand, giggling softly. “Shake on it?”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand and clasped it. “Happy New Year, princess.”
“Happy New Year, Cain.”
Chapter 29
As she pressed the button for the fourth floor, Ginger sighed contently. Her feet ached after an eight-hour shift, but she felt energized and invigorated . . . and that much closer to tomorrow, when she would see Cain again.
Yesterday, after breakfast, she asked Cain if he would visit Woodman’s grave with her, and he’d agreed, driving her to the cemetery and holding her hand as she wept. After a moment, he dropped her hand and wandered away, giving her some privacy, and she talked to Woodman for a while, telling him how sorry she was and how much she missed him. When she had no more words to say, she found Cain standing twenty yards away, under the bare winter branches of a tree, watching her, and she walked over to him.
“You okay, princess?” he asked, leaning away from the trunk and opening his arms.
She stepped into them gratefully, her own arms limp at her sides as she rested her cheek over Cain’s heart and closed her eyes. Seconds turned to minutes, and he never said a word, just held her in his strong arms, his chin resting on top of her head for as long as she needed him.
With every breath, his chest, hard and broad, pushed into hers, a reminder of his strength, of the strength he was sharing with her. And with every breath, she felt more and more certain that she could bear the loss of Woodman, provided she’d never have to bear the loss of Cain.
Finally, almost on the brink of sleep, she raised her head from his heart, and he raised his chin from her head, looking down at her.
“Better?”
She took a deep breath