Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“I don’t know. She said she needs a signature. Shouldn’t be more than a minute.” I got a message from an admin this morning, asking me to come in and sign some payroll papers that got messed up in my transfer. I’m not shocked. The guy who handled my move isn’t playing with a full deck.
“A minute, my ass. Do you know how slow they work in here?”
“You really are a whiny bitch when you’re hungry.”
“Warned you, didn’t I?” Connor pushes through the glass door marked Employee Administration and into an office as plain as a hospital waiting room—windowless and beige, the kind of place that makes me only too happy to be picking up trash out under the hot Florida sun. I’d hang myself if I had to sit in here all day.
“Look, if I don’t do this, I don’t get paid, and if I don’t get paid, you’re not gettin’ rent money. So shut the fuck up.” It hasn’t taken long for Connor and me to get into a groove. We already sound like we’ve known each other for years instead of less than twenty-four hours.
Connor walks up to the counter that runs the full length of the room, keeping Wolf’s various “white collar” office admin staff (payroll, finance, customer service) and the “blue collars” (housekeeping, kitchen scullery, maintenance crew) separated. He slaps the little bell.
And we wait, listening to the medley of fingertips tapping on keys, phones ringing, a low buzz of voices, an occasional cough.
Not one head pops up from a cubicle.
“Told you. An hour.” He hits the bell again, this time twice and harder. “And fix your laces while you’re at it. Doesn’t that drive you nuts?”
I glance down to see that one of my laces is indeed undone and dragging. “Actually, I didn’t notice.” As I’m crouching to retie it, Connor bellows, loud enough to carry through the entire office, “Yo, Tatum! Can you help us out so we can go eat? You know how I get when I’m hungry!”
Fucking guy is going to get us both in shit, hollering like that.
“Would you be quiet? People are taking reservations in here!” a female whisper-hisses.
I stand to find a brunette on the other side of the counter. She’s wearing the standard-issue Wolf admin staff uniform, and my attention can’t help but veer downward to where the white blouse stretches across her tits.
When I lift my eyes again, I find her scowling at me.
It takes me a good five seconds before I realize that I recognize that scowl. “Oh, shit.”
“I told you Ryan works here, didn’t I?” Connor’s grin says he damn well knows he didn’t mention that and he’s enjoying every second of this. “She’s the coordinator for the housekeeping division.”
Ryan is no longer sweaty and disheveled. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and her rich hazel eyes are hiding behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. No makeup touches her creamy skin, from what I can tell.
“What do you want?” she snaps, but I don’t miss the blush crawling up her cheeks.
“Someone left a message about signing a payroll form so I could—”
“Jean! Crew guy is here for you.” Ryan stalks away before I can finish, leaving me with my mouth open midsentence, staring at the way her hips swing in that tight purple skirt, her tiny waist making her ass seem bigger than it is. Not that I mind an ass that I can fill my hands with.
“Dick,” I hiss. “You could have warned me.”
“Hell no. Not after this morning. That was priceless, by the way.”
“I’ll bet. Anything else important you want to share with me?”
“Yeah. I’m fucking starving.”
A cute Asian girl appears. “Ronan Lyle?”
“That’s me. I got a call about paperwork?”
She sets a form in front of me. “I need you to fill this out.”
“Hey, Jean.” Connor rests his elbows on the counter and flashes her the same stupid smile he was using at the beach all morning. The one that got him four different phone numbers. “Big plans for the weekend?”
She dips her head to hide behind heavy black fringe as she lists her itinerary, hour by hour, it seems. I tune her out right after “sewing club” comes up and set to quickly filling out the form.
“What’s our address again?”
Connor recites and I fill it out, all the while feeling Jean’s black eyes appraising me.
“So, this is your new roommate?”
“Yeah. Why?” Connor grins. “What did Ryan say?”
“Nothing.” The expression on Jean’s face says Ryan had things to say and they weren’t at all pleasant. She drops her voice. “She’s in a bad mood today.”
“I noticed. Something going on with the douchebag?” Obviously, Connor doesn’t like Ryan’s boyfriend and doesn’t care who knows it.
She glances over her shoulder and then whispers, “I heard they broke up last night, but I’m not asking.”