Because I Can (Montgomery Manor) by Morgan Tamara

Author:Morgan, Tamara [Morgan, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2014-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Monty wasn’t sure when he became aware of the tension on Georgia’s job site, but it was probably a good three hours after he arrived.

As a general rule, he wasn’t great at picking up on the moods and tempers of those around him. His default assumption was that people weren’t enjoying themselves—which often turned out to be the case—so he operated in a kind of emergency mode by default. Head down, keep conversation to a minimum, eyes on the prize.

So even though he started out the morning taping off the windows somewhat amicably next to one of his hey-I-bought-you-a-beer friends, he failed to notice when the cheerful shouts of the rest of the crew became subdued. At least, he failed to notice right away. But when Adam picked up a roller and began slapping paint on the living room wall next to him without a single snide comment, he realized something was amiss.

Adam had grunted when he’d seen Monty pull up in his Lexus. He’d grunted even louder when Georgia winked at him. And the noise he’d made when he caught Monty watching her hand out the day’s assignments barely qualified as a human sound.

That last one hadn’t been his fault. Watching Georgia bark out orders had to be one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. Tough and callused and determined, everything about her should have been off-putting to a man accustomed to the opposite.

But he knew. He knew how smooth her skin was underneath those stiff coveralls, how pliable she became when his mouth touched hers, how her velvety voice turned liquid when she was aroused. Harboring that knowledge felt like carrying secret missives to the king or bearing a hidden treasure map in a tattoo on his back. No one else realized that when they shook her weathered hand, they were touching something precious.

“What’s going on?” Monty asked when Adam actually stood politely by and let him pour more of the paint into the tray. He was half-afraid he had a Kick Me sign on his back, or that Adam had covert plans to paint him from head to toe in Sandstone 0554. “Did I miss something?”

Adam firmed his mouth and shook his head. In any other man, that show of submissiveness would have been a welcome change of pace. In a relative of Georgia’s, that show of submissiveness made him nervous.

“Did Georgia tell you to be nice to me again? You don’t have to take her so literally. I can handle myself.”

“Dip the roller in the paint and put it on the wall. It’s not complicated.”

“Is this about the other night?”

“Would you stop talking and get to work? Sigh.” Even Adam’s frustration had its own word. “I think I preferred it when you stood around and stared at me. We need to look industrious for the next few hours. Georgia’s out there getting ripped a new one by her project manager.”

“She’s what?”

“Getting ripped a new one. Figurative for tearing open a second asshole. Literal for being screamed at by a dickwad who’s never lifted a hammer a day in his life.

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