Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Just then, I hear the outer door open. “Good morning, I brought coffee!”
Willow appears in my office doorway, carrying three coffees cups. Sweet Mother of all holy things. I nearly swallow my tongue. She’s wearing a delicate white blouse that buttons up to her neck paired with a pleated plaid skirt. Instead of the stiletto heels she’s worn the previous three days, kitten-heeled Mary Janes with lacy white anklet socks adorn her feet. Her blonde hair is held back by a black velvet headband and tendrils have escaped to curl softly around her face. She should look demure but instead looks like the schoolgirl of my dirtiest fantasy, the one I want to thoroughly debauch and play teacher’s pet with. Even Tim seems speechless as he looks at her, and I’m immediately filled with jealousy again.
“I thought you needed to get to the airport,” I remind him in a way sharper tone that he deserves, but if he doesn't put his eyeballs back into his head and roll up his tongue, I'm going to treat him like I'd treat any heterosexual dude who looked too long at my woman.
Fuck. When did Willow become my woman? I need to get those thoughts out of my head right away.
"Forget it. Willow, call Tim a car. He's leaving on vacation a few days early.”
“Don’t forget the Christmas list,” Tim reminds my slyly.
I glare at him before turning to Willow. “You're in charge of the office. Don't fuck up."
"Yessir."
The brat has the audacity to salute me. I slam the door so I don't give in to the urge to drape her over my knee and give her the punishment she's been asking for since she showed up in my office yesterday.
Through the door, I hear Tim say, "Thanks for the coffee. Nice socks, but not entirely office appropriate."
I growl. No one gets to tell Willow what she can and cannot wear, not even Tim. My fingers reach for the doorknob when Willow speaks up.
"I know you think I'm going to ruin this place and take Con down with me, but you couldn't be further from the truth. I only want to make Con happy, so if these kinds of socks in the office are the wrong thing I won't wear them again here. I don't ever want to bring embarrassment or shame to Con."
My heart lurches. This little slip of a thing is baring her kitten claws to Tim in a way that is both deferential and protective. The thing is that I should be the one protecting her. She should never have to apologize for wanting to dress a certain way or be a certain person. Someone should stand by her side, sword and shield at the ready so that this precious being can enjoy living. Suddenly, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not fighting Willow anymore. I’m going to be that person. She’s not going to be alone any longer.
I swing the door open. "You could wear a Santa costume every day to work and you wouldn't bring anything but beauty here," I tell her.
She presses her lips together trying to restrain a huge smile. It doesn't work. Thank Christ. The glory breaks through, bathing me in pure joy.
"Do you want me to wear a Santa suit, because I can?" She beams at me.
"You wear whatever you damn want to wear." I look over her head. "Go on, Tim. We'll be okay by ourselves. Have a good holiday with your family."
"Thanks, Con." He gives me a chin nod and then reaches over to pat Willow on the arm. "Go easy on him. He's not as spry as he looks."
"Bullshit!" I burst out. "I whipped your ass in racquetball two nights ago."
"Or I let you win," Tim laughingly taunts as he dances over to his desk. He grabs his jacket and sprints out of there before I can collar him.
"I like Tim. He’s good for you," Willow says, leaning her plaid-covered ass against Tim’s desk. I close the outer door and study her.
“Do you need help with your Christmas shopping?” she asks.
“No.” The only Christmas present I need is standing in front of me.
There's about twenty feet between us, but it's not big enough to keep me from her. Not this time. She's given me the clearest signal possible and at this point, to ignore it would be more insulting than taking her up on it.
She's young, yes, but I can't treat her as if she doesn't know her own mind. The woman has been running her dad's life for years. I feel slightly guilty for making her run around for the past few days, but I told myself she was doing the same tasks asked of any intern.
Still…I don't like thinking about my baby girl tottering around the city in her beautiful clothes and her pencil-thin stilts without me by her side. I think we need to have a talk about what she wants out of life, beyond being in my bed.