Billionaires, Boarders, and Bastards: A Limited-Time Collection of Reverse Harem Romance Novellas
Page 30
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
“I'd love to come inside, thank you, darlin',” he purred, his voice warm and liquid, sliding over my body and making me shiver—but not from the cool, October breeze blowing in from outside. No, this shiver was all heat.
Of course he has a Southern accent, I thought as I stepped aside to let him pass. As if it wasn't bad enough that my entire downstairs bathroom was flooded, now the space between my thighs was, too. Keep it together, Ari, I warned myself as Shane—or Skeeter or whatever tall, dark, and handsome wanted to call himself—set down his toolbox and crossed his arms over his massive chest.
“Something the matter, sugar?” he asked, looking me over like maybe, just maybe, he liked what he saw. “You're sweatin' like a whore in church.”
“A whore in what?” I asked, but maybe I was still nursing a morning after drunk because I didn't push it. “Do you want me to show where the problem areas are?”
Shane's mouth split into a wide grin, this wolfish leer that made me want to pull my shirt down over my panties. Or up. Maybe I wanted to pull it up? Why didn't I put any friggin' pants on before I let this guy in?!
“Is the, uh, rest of your team on the way?” I asked casually, wondering if I should, like, offer him some sweet tea or something. Isn't that what Southern people always drink? I felt like I was being particularly unhospitable. But what the bloody hell did I know? My mum was from Australia, my dad was from the UK, and I was born in … Hoboken. But that was beside the point. I'd just realized I'd let some random dude into my house without first checking his ID, putting pants on, or calling to check any of his references.
I could very well be looking at the next Ted effing Bundy.
Please don't kill me, I thought as I cleared my throat and raised a questioning brow.
“So … Charlie told me that you started this business with some friends?”
“Oh, they're around,” Shane said, running a hand up and down the inked perfection of his bicep. It took more effort than I had in me to look away. “Why don't you show me where I should get started, sugar, and we'll get your pipes all cleaned out.”
I had no idea how to respond to that.