Jefferson says, “The financial institution my brother works at has a lot of great savings options, and bankers who love helping young people learn the best ways to put their money to work. I can give you a business card when you come by tomorrow—”
“Zoe, we need you inside.” Carson’s voice is stern. Am I in trouble? My heart sinks that I might have messed something up on my first full day. I turn and am shocked by how quickly he’s crossing the clearing between the houses.
He’s glaring at Jefferson. Carson’s fingers wrapping around my upper arm are the only indication that he understands I’m present. His jaw is tight, and his fingers grip tighter than I would consider casual. It’s possessive, similar to the way he said he needed me inside. I glance between Carson and Jefferson.
It is possession. And I like it. A lot.
I step closer to him. My body fits so naturally against his. He moves his arm around my shoulders. My pulse pounds so hard in my ears, I lose track of what the men are saying.
Jefferson’s eyes shift to Carson’s hand on my shoulder.
Shit. What am I doing? Will Jefferson get the wrong impression? That my maid services are more than traditional cleaning? Oh god, I hope I don’t get fired over this. Any efforts to be independent and learn to live on my own are undermined by the comfort of Carson’s embrace.
“Just meeting the person who’s supposed to clean our house tomorrow.”
“She cleans your house and that’s it.”
“Whatever, but be careful about what you do on the rooftop if you want to pretend she’s just a housekeeper.”
“Nothing happened up there.” Carson’s fingers dig into my shoulder. That shouldn’t send a bolt of excitement to my sex, should it?
The tension between the two of them arguing is lessened by snuggling into Carson’s side.
He’s just protecting me.
Jefferson rubs a hand over his mouth and turns to me. “I’m not judging. And just to be clear, I don’t expect any special services.”
Carson doesn’t respond. Just keeps a firm grip on me as he guides me home.
Natalie barely knows Carson. She’ll have to cut me some slack.
This may only last two weeks, but I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
Nine
Zoe
ThedoorbellringsandI stuff my cleaning rag into the plantation blinds to mark where I left off.
“I got it,” I call out as I climb down the ladder so the guys don’t have to stop working. They may not have even heard the bell since their office door is shut and rock and roll is playing fairly loudly. It’s been a few hours since Carson blew up at the neighbor. He’s avoided me ever since.
If I wasn’t supposed to talk to the neighbor, he should have told me. No need to get pissy. The only communication we’ve had is Carson texting me not to worry about dinner.
I see the bouquet of flowers before I get to the door. Red roses. Not the kind of bouquet friends or family send each other. How had I not even thought about the guys having girlfriends? Natalie always talks about Nathan being a workaholic with no social life and I guess I assumed Carson was the same way.
That doesn’t mesh with his breakfast comments or the way his arm wrapped around me, which I can still feel. The security he’d enveloped me in had been more intense than I’d ever dreamed another person could provide.
All for not. All the better reason to learn not to need people. When I get my own place, there will be no mistake who the flowers are for when the delivery guy shows up.
Opening the door, irritation wells in my throat that I’ll have to present one of the guys, most likely Carson, with flowers from his lover. Damn it.
“I’ve got a delivery for Zoe Simon.” He looks at me expectantly, and for a little longer than should be necessary since that’s me, but I’m dumbfounded.
“Are you Zoe?” he asks.
I nod. “Um, yeah. These are for me?”
“They sure are.” He hands the vase to me and takes off, clearly not as intrigued by the moment as I am. Is Natalie being funny, sending me flowers for putting up with her brothers? No, she shouldn’t expect me to be back until next week.