Wealthy and Wanted - Alexa Riley Page 0,5
what I could have done already to make my new boss mad, but I guess there’s really only one way to find out.
When I hit the bottom stairs, I pause when I see Mr. Walker standing there eating a sandwich over the sink. The man really is living the bachelor life.
“Would you like me to make you something else?” I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear and he grunts a “no” before polishing off his sandwich and reaching for another he made. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
“I don’t talk much.” He shrugs one of his big shoulders and then picks up a glass of milk and chugs the whole thing.
“Okay, but it still feels like you’re angry with me. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot if I’m going to be staying here.”
“We don’t need to be on any foot. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.” He puts the cup in the sink, and I look down at my hands, feeling uncomfortable as the silence stretches. “Your name.”
“What about it?”
“You’re not a Dorothy.”
I let out a small laugh and he stares at my mouth. “Well, that’s my name.”
“Dorothy is an old woman's name.”
Is that the problem? I remember his comment outside about me not being old. He must have thought I was going to be an older woman, but I don’t see how that matters. I still know how to cook and clean.
“Well, it was my grandmother’s name.” He stares at me. “Most everyone calls me Dotty, so if you’d prefer, you can call me that,” I offer, and he grunts. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh because the grunting is getting ridiculous.
“I have shit to check on.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Call me Clay.”
As he walks past me, he stops abruptly. I glance over at him to see he’s starting at the ring on my finger.
“You’re married?” His question sounds more like an accusation.
“Engaged.”
“Engaged,” he repeats, and I nod. “He doesn't care that you’re staying with a man?”
“I just work here.” And I don’t see why he would care. My fiancé never gave me the time of day, so I still don’t understand why he insisted we get married.
He lets out a curse, looking madder by the second before he stomps out of the kitchen. A moment later I hear the front door slam. Well, if he wasn’t mad at me before, he is now.
Too bad I have no idea why.
Chapter Four
Clay
I sleep like shit, so when it’s finally an acceptable hour to get out of bed I’m on my feet. My shower is cold, and my towel is rough and most mornings it doesn’t bother me. But today I feel like my skin is sensitive. Everything that touches it feels uncomfortable and I don’t like it.
I fucked around in the barn last night until it was way past midnight and I thought Dorothy would be asleep. Dotty. That little bundle piece came out of that car and walked in this house like she belonged here. The goddamn problem is that she looked like she did.
A city girl with clean jeans and sandals, wearing a too-tight sweater, looked like she fit right in even though this place is a pigsty. I’d never really felt ashamed of my home before because my excuse was that I worked too hard to come home and wash a plate, but seeing her staring at my mess made me want to apologize. But what did I do instead? Oh yeah, stomped out of there like a cat with its tail caught in a barn door and hid out of sight until she was asleep.
I hung my head in shame as I went to bed, not even bothering to turn on the lights. God, I did so much to update this place, but the past few months have been hard. It’s not that I can’t keep up, but I just keep working myself to the bone every day, and I’ve let things go. I thought by hiring a live-in cleaner it would help, but now I just feel like a failure.
After I pull on my jeans without bothering to put on underwear, I grab a white shirt off the top of the dresser. I haven’t done laundry in so long, I’m used to not wearing underwear anymore, and white shirts are cheap and easy to come by.
I tiptoe past the