Piece by Piece (The Riggins Brothers #2) - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,13

Shifting my stance, making room for my growing erection, I turn my focus back to the shoes.

“Owen!” she gasps. “These are eighty dollars.”

“Okay.”

“That’s too much. I can get a pair at Walmart for twenty.”

“You could, but we’re here, and I want you to have these.” I grab the shoe out of her hand and shove it into the box. “You put those up while I go pay.”

“Owen,” she calls after me, but I wave over my shoulder, not bothering to stop. Swinging past the flip-flops, I grab her a couple of pairs—the ones she has on today are worn out; I’ve seen her adjust the thong when it popped out twice today. Taking them to the counter, I motion to my shoes as well, and quickly check out.

“Thank you.” Her soft voice comes from beside me.

Turning, I see her holding the bags that I left there. “You’re welcome. Now, I’m starving. You ready to eat?”

“Yes.” A simple answer to a simple question.

Grabbing the bags of shoes, I try to take the others from her, but she insists that she can carry them. Then she surprises me when she reaches out and links her fingers with mine.

Once we have the bags loaded, I spot my cell phone in the cupholder. I chuckle, picking it up to see that I have five missed calls from the office.

“What’s so funny?” she inquires.

“I left my phone in the car.”

“Ha-ha,” she mocks me. “That’s funny?” She sounds confused.

I look over at her. “Yes, that’s funny. Considering I never forget my phone. Ever.”

“Hmm, must be old age,” she teases.

I smile at that. “No.” I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. “It’s all you. You are extremely distracting.”

“I’m sorry?” She poses it as a question more than apologizing.

“Don’t be. You are the best distraction.” Fighting the urge to pull her into me and kiss the hell out of her, I turn back to my cell phone. “I have to return a few calls. Won’t take me long.” She reaches for the door handle. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you some privacy.”

“I don’t need it. Stay put.” Dialing the office, my assistant, and future sister-in-law, Sawyer, answers. “Hey, Sawyer, it’s Owen. What’s going on?”

“There’s a Parker’s Garage trying to reach you. They said they’re fixing a car for you, and that it’s ready. They have the total.”

“Did they give it an overhaul as I asked?” I ask her.

“New tires, spark plugs, oil change, filters,” she rambles on a long list of things the garage did to Layla’s car.

“Great. Call them back and take care of it. I’m on my way there now.”

“You got it. Also, Jase called and said that he’s still working on getting the numbers together.”

“That’s fine.”

“You feeling okay?” she asks with an unsure laugh.

I glance over at Layla. “Never better,” I tell her.

“All right, Owen Riggins, there is something that you’re not telling me, but you will,” she assures me. She’s not wrong. If anyone can get it out of me, it’s Sawyer or my brothers. “I’m going to call the garage and get that taken care of. You behave.”

“Thank you. I’ll be unavailable the remainder of the day.”

“I’m liking the way this sounds,” she replies, and I hit End on the call and toss my phone back in the cupholder.

“Is everything okay?”

“It is now,” I say, placing my hand back on her knee and pulling out of the lot.

“Sounded important.”

“It was. Very important. Otherwise, my assistant wouldn’t have called.”

“You make your assistant handle your personal life?”

“She gets paid very well for her time. Besides, it’s two phone calls, one to me and one to the garage. Trust me. She’s overly compensated.” I don’t tell her that she’s engaged to my workaholic brother, and that she begs us to give her more to do. She’s bored, despite my brother’s resistance, she wants more work to fill her time while at the office. Royce is working on an after-hours service to contact us, and each of us takes turns being on call. He doesn’t want Sawyer to have to deal with it. Funny, how this is the first assistant he’s ever worried about getting after hours calls. He’s a new man thanks to Sawyer.

“You should hire some more help. I know what it’s like to be overworked. Granted, I bring my overtime all on myself because I need the money, but if she’s doing that a lot, you should get her some help.”

I think about what she’s saying, and that’s when an idea starts