Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
She gestured at me. “Well, when people come in with such stunning auras, I don’t know what you expect.”
“School needs to start back up now,” he mumbled under his breath and then turned to me. “Are you Mr. Harcourt, here for Owen?”
“I am.”
He extended his hand. “I’m Shaw James, and if you walk straight to your left there, you’ll see my boss’s office, and he’s in there sitting at his desk.”
“But I needed to speak to Mr. Moss.”
“Yeah, he’s in there too.”
“Got it,” I said, smiling at him.
Following orders, I took the turn and walked into the office, where another big, strong, powerfully built man—not as massive as Mr. James, but few men were—was sitting at a desk, staring at a computer, leaning forward with his forehead pressed to his palm. A younger man, handsome, who I knew to be Mr. Moss, with brighter red hair than Mr. James, and with emerald green eyes, was pressing his lips together very tight in an effort, I could only guess, not to laugh.
“Hello,” I said since neither of them had noticed me. “Mr. Moss?”
Looking up, he let out a howl of laughter.
“It’s not funny,” the older man told him. “Ass.”
But whatever it was must have been hysterical because Owen was now doubled over, one hand bracing himself on the desk.
“Who’re you?” the older man asked. It was a bit gruff, but I knew all about that from living with the chief deputy, so I just rolled with it.
“Jory Harcourt. I have an appointment with Owen.”
“Well, since Owen has the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old, would you mind looking at this for me?”
Moving quickly around his desk, I reached his side and looked at the computer screen. The man who I was currently talking to was also on the screen.
“Watch this, willya?”
“Certainly,” I agreed as he hit Play.
What began was basically an offer that if you needed help and you had no one else to turn to, then please call Torus Intercession.
“Okay,” I said, trying not to grimace.
“Now look at these responses.”
He only had to scroll down a bit because the words popped out. Those like “daddy” and “papa bear” and all the ways various people needed help getting into all kinds of positions.
“Read the one that starts, ‘I need to be spanked,’” Owen suggested from where he was, trying to drag air into his lungs.
I winced.
“Why?” Jared Colter asked me, and I knew it was him after reading his name and title on the screen. “What is making this happen?”
“I suspect it’s you, sir,” I offered. “I mean, in that black T-shirt there… I’m going to ask you the same thing I ask my husband—do you not have anything that fits a bit looser?”
“What?”
Owen was back to not being able to breathe.
“Perhaps a dress shirt, and you further from the camera so we’re not just looking at your jawline and all the muscles.”
“What?”
“Perhaps a voice-over might be advisable. Or if, maybe, Mr. Moss spoke to the camera or you had testimonials run while, again, we have the voice-over,” I suggested. “Frankly, I’m surprised your phone is not ringing off the hook with people calling for a date.”
“A date?”
I waved at the computer screen. “You’re a very handsome man, sir. I’m sure there are some really filthy comments further down the thread.”
“You have no idea,” Owen chimed in, pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the desk.
“I could fix this for you, sir,” I offered. “That’s what I do. I’m the one who made your present logo.”
“Oh,” Mr. Colter said, standing up, and I had to do what I did with Sam and stepped back so I could keep my gaze on his face. “Mr. Harcourt, it’s a pleasure.”
We shook, and then Owen and I did as well.
“And yes, please, let’s have you fix this,” he said quickly. “And call me Jared.”
“Then call me Jory,” I rushed out.
“Excellent.” He sounded pleased. “Please have a seat.”
Once I was sitting, and Jared was as well, with Owen perched on the right side of his desk, he smiled at me.
“Now tell me what Owen and I can do for you.”
“Wait,” Owen ordered. “Jory, what do you think my relationship with Mr. Colter is?”
I looked from one to the other. “Are you married?”
“Hah!” Owen crowed. “I told you.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Please. Jory, ignore him. Tell me what you need?”
“Well, it’s more a request for Mr. Moss.”
He looked at me. “Call me Owen, please, and how can I help?”
“My husband is angry with a friend of mine, Aaron Sutter, over something that happened to you. I need you to tell me, if you will, at least some of the details so I can find a way to relay that to him so I can fix the problem between him and Aaron.”
“Who’s your husband?” Owen asked.