Surviving Love - K.F. Breene Page 0,24

but that’s different. There’s no kissing involved in that.”

Sara rolled her eyes before coming to stand right in front of him. She angled up her face and closed her eyes.

“I have to do all the work?” Mikey asked, put out.

“Just kiss me, for God’s sakes,” she replied curtly.

He bent down with puckered lips. His face bumped off hers first, and then he pushed forward again to keep his lips connected with hers for a count of ten. He pulled away with a smack.

Her eyes opened and stared up at him, assessing. “That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind it. Find me tomorrow near the swings and do it again. I want to see that Sally Jacobson’s face when she sees.”

“Only if I get your Game Boy for another week.”

Sara’s fists balled and her face turned red. “A week? I just got it. You’ve had it longer than I have already! Your parents are so rich—get them to buy you one!”

“My dad thinks they’re a waste of time. A week or no kiss. Deal?”

“Three days,” Sara said, crossing her arms.

“Five…”

They stared at each other. Finally, with a loud sigh, Sara relented. “Fine, but I want at least fifteen seconds in front of everyone.”

“Fine.” Mikey half-jogged back to the bed, game device in hand.

Sara stared after him for a minute, having gotten almost everything she wanted, and now not really sure what to do. Shrugging, she followed Mikey to the bed and sat down beside him, watching his progress over his shoulder.

Chapter 5

“Sara, would you mind checking over that order before you head on to Jake?” Dan was standing at the end of the hall near the service doors with a clipboard and a harried expression. “I have a guest with a bee sting that’s puffing up and the medic is in town. I need to see to it immediately but the driver is waiting!”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Sara took the clipboard and scanned the packing slip as Dan took off down the hall. She walked up to the neatly stacked boxes and checked off each item on the packing slip until she reached the potatoes. “Oh, it looks like we have one too few boxes.”

She looked up for the driver. Instead, her gaze glanced off a muscled chest in a black tank top. She looked upward to a startlingly attractive man with bold features and day-old scruff.

Her face turned red immediately. “Huu… hi.”

The man’s bemused gaze dipped down, past her face, and lingered on her chest. “Well, hello. You must be Sara, the new house staff.”

Sara cleared her throat and tucked some flyaway hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah. Yes, I mean. I’m Sara. Are you… Do you work here, or are you the driver?” She lamely held up her clipboard.

His eyes flashed and his smile flickered brighter. He leaned closer. “Do I make you nervous, Sara?”

“Oh no, ha ha. Nope, not at all. Uh…” With darting eyes, she spied an overweight fellow with stains on his shirt through the service door. He was leaning against a large white truck. “I just need to take care of this.”

She held up her clipboard for the second time, figuring, apparently, that even though her sign language failed the first time, repetition was a great idea.

Scurrying past him, she cursed her ridiculousness. You meet an outrageously handsome man and your first impulse is to do weird things and hop around like a lunatic?

Berating herself, she stepped wrongly off the last step and nearly barreled into the lounging driver, clipboard smacking off his padded chest.

“Oh my God, sorry! I’m so sorry!” She backed away quickly, hoping the attractive man hadn’t stuck around and caught that.

The driver shrugged. “S’okay.”

“Right. Sorry. Anyway, we’re missing one box of potatoes.”

“Nah, no you’re not. It’s all there.”

Tilting her head, Sara consulted the packing slip one more time. She pointed at the number eight next to russet potatoes. “Well, I counted seven boxes. This says eight. Maybe I’m missing one, but I don’t think so.”

“You are. There are eight there. You probably just thought it was something else. Just sign off like the old man does, and I’ll be on my way.”

Sara hadn’t loved her job before she’d come here, it was true. If she had, she wouldn’t have quit. But just because you didn’t love something, didn’t mean you weren’t good at it.

Her business hat clicked on.

She met the driver’s eyes with a calculating gaze. “Let’s go over it together, then. Please, follow me.”

“That’s not necessary—”

Sara cut him off with