He couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t do that. Thinking of her that way was disrespectful. She now worked for him. Autumn was off-limits, and yet his dick hadn’t gotten the message. Instead, it strained against his fly, and he knew he’d end up with scars on the damn thing if he didn’t shift around and do something about it at some point.
Of course he wasn’t about to masturbate in his office—a man had limits. But he also couldn’t go take care of it in the shower with Autumn here. Thankfully, he’d showered the night before so he at least didn’t look too much like a dirty hoarder.
When Autumn had kicked him into his office, he’d pulled on a shirt from his clean stack of laundry and had gotten a lovely side-eye. He had a feeling his organization of dirty stacks versus clean stacks would be out the window with her around. He knew he should appreciate her help, but it still felt like a kick in the pants.
She’d pushed him out of the way three hours ago, and he’d written a page.
A page.
He wanted to weep with joy because that page was the biggest pile of shit he’d ever written. But he’d written.
One page in three hours. Only four hundred to go, and maybe he wouldn’t have to slam his head into the wall. A light knock on his office door pulled him away from his empty second page, and he cleared his throat.
“Come in.” He quickly looked around his office and winced. At least he didn’t have dirty clothes in here. That had to count for something.
Autumn came in with a tray of food and a smile on her face. He quickly got up and took the heavy tray from her. He might be a mess, but he wasn’t an asshole—most days. His mother had trained him well.
“I ordered in for lunch since you had that lovely delivery list attached to your fridge. I’ll go shopping tomorrow once I figure out exactly what you need cleaning and food-wise. You had a whole cabinet of cleaning supplies, FYI.” She raised a brow. “The layer of dust on said supplies was ironic to say the least.”
He shrugged after he put the tray on the side table, trying not to meet her eyes. Yeah, he was embarrassed, but damn it, he needed to work. And sometimes things like showers, cleaning, and eating went out the window when deadlines called.
His stomach growled and he looked down at the food she’d brought. Burritos and a taco salad. Awesome.
“Thanks. What do I owe you for this?” He frowned. “How am I paying you exactly? Mom didn’t mention it.” He stacked a few books on the floor next to his desk so she’d have a place to eat if she, indeed, wanted to eat with him.
Autumn waved her hand. “Your mom took care of it. She gave me cash for food today actually, but I would have just paid for it and invoiced you. As for how I’ll get paid, your sisters wrote up a contract that you should probably look at.” She snorted. “They emailed it to you, but I figured you didn’t check your email if you’re that behind so I can print out what you need. As for payments, we can talk about that after we eat.”
This time she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he tilted his head. Intriguing. It seemed Autumn had secrets. Secrets he wanted to uncover. Secrets he probably shouldn’t uncover because he didn’t want her to be intriguing.
Autumn took her taco salad and went to sit in his large leather chair, and he made sort of a strangled sound.
She froze, her very delectable ass hovering over the chair. “What the heck was that?”
He cleared his throat. “Not there. It’s my thinking chair.” And now he sounded like a fucking idiot. Maybe even like the crazy reclusive writer his family joked he was slowly becoming.
She stood straighter. “Ooookay, then. I can go sit in the living room and eat out there.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, you can sit at my desk or in one of the chairs at the table. I’m just really weird about that chair, okay? I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything. Or even crazy. I just…”
“You don’t like people sitting in that chair. Got it.” She shrugged, but he saw the laughter dance in her eyes. She sat in one of his spare chairs and his shoulders relaxed some. Yes, he was certifiable.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “And thanks for the food.” He sat down in his desk chair—leaving the thinking chair empty—and dug into his food. Spice and cheese exploded on his tongue and he moaned.
“Good?” Autumn asked with a smile.
“Hell, yeah. I love this place.” He took another bite big enough to make him look like a Neanderthal, but he didn’t care.
“So, Griffin Montgomery, tell me about yourself.” Autumn dug into her taco salad. He held back a grin. Like his sisters and Sierra, Autumn ate like she liked food, rather than nibbling at lettuce and calling it a meal. Good on her.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, trying to be civil. He still resented the fact that she was here, but he couldn’t act like an asshole all the time. It got tiring.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Tell me anything.”
How about how he wanted to bend her over the desk and fuck her? No, probably not that. Damn it, he didn’t like the sound of his thoughts right then. He was a fucking prick and he knew it.
“I’m a writer.”
Autumn blinked, lowered her fork then did a slow clap. “Oh my God. That is…that is so thrilling to hear. I mean, you’re a writer? Who knew?”
He lifted his hand to flip her off then remembered she wasn’t family and ran his hand through his hair instead. Smooth.
“Wait. Did you just use the word thrilling on purpose?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing gets past you.”
“Well, Fall, I’m a thriller writer. As you well know. Ever read me?” He smiled as he asked it and watched the way her eyes darted from his.
Intriguing. Again.
“I’m sure I have,” she said vaguely.
He didn’t know why that annoyed him, but it did. So what if she hadn’t read him, or if she had, didn’t remember. It wasn’t as if he didn’t sell books.
No, he just couldn’t write them.
God, he wanted her out of his house so he could think again. He hated that he’d put himself in this position.
“I’m the sixth kid in the Montgomerys,” he blurted, wanting to keep his mind off the fact he hated his life right then.
“You’re one of the babies, then.” She licked sour cream off her fork, and he had to blink in order to think. Damn tongue of hers. She worked for him. Though maybe she worked for his mother if he thought about it, but damn it, he shouldn’t be having dirty thoughts about Autumn. It wasn’t fair to her, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to him.
“Alex and Miranda are younger, but yeah, I guess I am.” He shrugged. They were all older now, so age didn’t truly matter anymore when it came to how they interacted. Yeah, Miranda was still the darling baby, but she was married and happy. Alex had been one of the first married and now lived in rehab, trying to get his life together. Griffin…well, Griffin was just Griffin. And maybe that’s why his brain couldn’t work anymore.
And enough of that shit.
“I still don’t know how you ended up here,” he said, trying to break the rising tension in the room.
Her back stiffened. “What do you mean here?”
He frowned. “I mean working for me. What did you think I meant?”
She waved her hand. “Nothing. Meghan cornered me and I had a weak moment. I have the skills to help, and once I get the lay of the land, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”
He raised a brow. “Shouldn’t I tell you what I need?”
“Maybe. But if you could do that, you’d be doing it yourself, right?”
Okay, that was enough. “Fuck this. Just go home, okay? Thank you for cleaning and getting lunch, but I don’t need help.”
She rose slowly, methodically cleaning up after herself. “You’re an idiot, Griffin, and you can’t fire me. You can get over yourself and realize that you need help. I’m sorry for saying what I did. It was out of line. Of course you can’t do it all, and you shouldn�
�t. That’s why I’m here.”
He ran a hand over his face and turned away from her, needing to think. His eyes rested on the blank page on his monitor and, of course, instead of blaming himself for not being able to get past one page, he reacted like an idiot. He turned to her and put his hands on his hips.
“Go home, Autumn. I don’t know you. I know you say you have these skills, but what do I really know, huh? You think you can just come in and take over my life? I don’t think so. I’m not some kid who needs a babysitter. I’m a fucking man who has a job to do and can’t do it with you lurking around.”
Her cheeks pinked as he spoke, and he watched the rise and fall of her chest as she took deep breaths.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah. I am. So you don’t need to be around me.”
“I’m done with this for today, but I’ll be back.”
“Don’t bother.” See? Asshole.
She flipped her red hair over her shoulder and glared. “You need all the help you can get, and the fact you can’t see that just makes me sad. I’m going to help you because, damn it, I want you to finish your fucking book. So get over yourself and learn that you don’t need to do it all on your own. That you can’t do it all.”
With that, she slammed the office door behind her. He counted to five, and then heard her slam the front door, too.
Well, he’d truly gone and pissed her off. But he couldn’t work with her here. Of course, he ignored the fact that he’d written a whole page with her in the house—more than he’d written in a week. But that didn’t count. He’d just delete that page anyway. He didn’t know where his character was going, and he damn well sure didn’t know where he was going.
Being royally fucked didn’t even begin to cover the state of his life just then.
And it was all his fault. Not Autumn’s. Not his family’s. His.
And what was he going to do about it?
Not a damn thing it seemed.
Real fucking mature.
He looked at the clock on his phone and cursed. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh, that’s right. He hadn’t been. He quickly saved his one page on his computer in case something happened and stuffed his phone in his pocket. He pulled on shoes, got his wallet and keys, and left the house, locking up behind him. He stood on the porch, frowned, then unlocked his front door and took a step back inside.
Holy fuck.
He was a dead man.
An asshole.
An unworthy, ungrateful piece of shit.
He walked through the living room, his eyes wide.
Autumn had been in his home for only three hours and had worked miracles. His living room and dining room sparkled. Fucking sparkled. It smelled of lemons and lavender—not like dude and gym shorts. She’d dusted, vacuumed—how he hadn’t heard that was beyond him—and cleaned up his clothes and spare glasses. She’d pushed all the books to the side by the bookshelves, and he figured she planned on going back to organize them. He winced. He’d have to help with that. It might not look like it, but he had a system—one he’d outgrown with the increase in books. He should have asked Decker or Storm to build him more shelves a year ago, but he kept putting it off.
He quickly shot off a text to Decker to ask for more shelves like he’d made him before then stuffed his phone in his pocket once more. The damn woman had cleaned up weeks’ worth of mess in a few hours. It looked as if she were about to tackle his kitchen before she’d brought him lunch. And instead of saying thank you for any of that, he’d thrown a damn tantrum.
No wonder he was single and lonely.
He ran a hand through his hair and turned on his heel, walking through the now clean area back to his front door. Autumn had said she’d be back, and he’d say thank you. She’d cleaned up after him and done a better job than he could have ever tried for.
He had a full belly, a partially clean house, and one more page on his book than he had before. That was progress. And yet he’d yelled and pouted. What the fuck was wrong with him? So what if he had the hots for her? It wasn’t her fault he wanted her and wasn’t about to have her. And it wasn’t her fault he was behind on his deadline, though he’d love to blame anyone but himself.
Griffin just hated anyone in his space, and the damn woman was more than just someone. She intrigued him, made him hard, and annoyed him all at once. Maybe he just needed to get laid. It had been long enough that he was afraid he’d forget how to do the deed once he was there.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out again, grunting at the message from Decker.
About fucking time. Call me later and we’ll get the details. At work now.
Griffin texted his best friend back saying okay and was about to put his phone away again when it started to ring. Apparently, he was popular today.
He answered when he saw Maya’s name on the screen. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. You coming in today for your appointment or are you going to keep scratching your balls for the rest of the day?”
He cursed. “Fuck. I forgot.”
“Well, maybe if you put it on your calendar and set up an alert, you wouldn’t be such an idiot. Ask Autumn to make you a calendar for things like that. She’ll keep you in line.”
If she didn’t quit first.
“I still can’t believe you hired someone for me,” he said, his voice dry.
“Well, you’re not here, and I bet you weren’t working if you answered your phone that quickly, so maybe you needed her. Now get your ass here so I can start your ink. Don’t piss me off, Griffin.”
She hung up on him, and he smiled. His sister was a mouthy, crabby woman most days, and he loved her all the more for it. And one day, if she ever saw the man she called her best friend for what he was worth, she’d end up a very happy woman. Of course, it wasn’t his job to deal with that, so he’d step out of the way. For now.
He’d go get his ink, let the buzz of the needle and the pain of the tattoo wash away some of his anger, his self-pity. And when he got home, he’d write.
Like he’d been telling himself every fucking day for the past three months.
Though this time, he’d push Autumn from his thoughts and work on what he had to. And in the morning, he’d apologize for being an asshat and let her help.
Because he might resent her being there, but he’d written.
He’d written.
That had to mean something.
Eventually.
He hoped.
Because if it didn’t? Well, he didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t afford to. Ever.
Chapter Five
Autumn normally wouldn’t hit a man. She wasn’t prone to violence, but Griffin might end up the exception to the rule. The damn man frustrated her to no end, and it didn’t help that he looked freaking hot all growly and stubborn. Add in a sheen of sweat and that broody glare, and she’d had to take deep breaths to keep under control.
Apparently, she was attracted to assholes.
Good to know.
It didn’t help that she had to work for the damn man. First day on the job and she was already storming out, angry beyond measure, and genuinely upset that she’d caved at his demand for her to leave. She knew he hadn’t wanted a true personal assistant working with him, but she hadn’t known he’d be so resistant to the idea of help in any sort of way. He desperately needed it—if only to help him clear away the clutter in his mind. But he didn’t want that. He wanted to do everything himself.
Yet he wasn’t doing that, was he?
Freaking man.
With a sigh, she pushed open the doors to Montgomery Ink and let her shoulders relax—somewhat. Ink and friends would help. They always did.
Laughter, the buzzing of needles, and the deep growl of Austin’s voice filled her ears, and she let out another sigh—this one happier. She could totally be at home in a tattoo shop. If only she knew how to tattoo. She could draw, but not like the immense talent of those in front of her.
; “Autumn!” Callie, one the artists, came up to her, arms outstretched. Autumn leaned into them, inhaling Callie’s sweet, floral scent. The woman bounced around like she had all the energy in the world, and looked kick ass while doing it. It helped that she was one of the younger people in the Montgomery world. It also helped that Callie was married to one damn fine man, who did his best to care for her every need.
No, that wasn’t jealousy. Not even a little. Okay, maybe a little.
“It’s good to see you, Callie.” Autumn leaned back and studied the woman’s face. “There’s something different about you.”
Callie blushed, her eyes darting away. “I’m just happy.”
Hmm…interesting. Well, it looked as if the other woman wanted to keep her secrets, and Autumn was fine with that. After all, she had enough secrets of her own to fill the entire shop and then some.
“You look it,” Autumn said honestly.
“Thank fuck you’re here,” Maya shouted as she came up from the back room. The woman looked haggard as hell, but still damn sexy. If Autumn liked women that way, she was pretty sure Maya would be her type. Blunt, dark brown bangs framed her face and eyebrow ring perfectly. Bright red lips against the paleness of her skin made her look like a pinup star with a bit of an edge. Most of the ink on her body was done by her brother, Austin, the rest by herself. Seriously, the woman had talent. And an attitude. Hence why she was one of Autumn’s closer friends—or however close Autumn let people be.
“Good to see you, too,” Autumn said, her brow raised. “What’s up?”
“Austin and his big oaf fingers fucked up the computer again,” Maya snarled in her brother’s direction. Austin, his attention on his client, used his free hand to flip his sister off.
There was a reason the Montgomerys were her favorites.
“Stop being mean,” Callie said. “I can fix it.”
Maya shook her head. “You have a client in five minutes. Or maybe you don’t. I can’t tell since I can’t fix the fucking computer.”
“I didn’t fuck it up,” Austin growled, his eyes still on the piece in front of him. “I pressed save. It didn’t save. It’s the computer’s fault. If you hadn’t fired the fucking receptionist who had actually managed to last two weeks, we wouldn’t be in this damn situation.”
Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4) Page 5
