Baker tilted her head, and her brown, curly hair swept to the side, revealing her delicate neck.
My lips itched to run along the column of her throat.
My hand tightened on the brick in my hand to the point of pain.
Here this poor woman was, suffering from postpartum depression, months from giving birth to her son, in the worst possible position that she could be in, and I was thinking about getting my hands—and other body parts—onto her.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Nine
I pee in pools.
—Text from Baker to Copper
BAKER
“Did she work here, too?”
“No, well, contract work.” He sighed and once again took his seat. “She was—is?—a forensic accountant. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s actually that, I was just going off of what Keely told me. There’s a possibility that she’s not…” He looked down at the papers on his desk. “Maybe I should have someone else come in here and check her work.”
“I think that might be smart,” I admitted before my phone rang.
Seeing that it was my brother, I answered it immediately.
“Kenny, what’s up?” I asked.
“That pick-up you just gave me, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and I have no clue where I am. The number you gave me is disconnected, and I don’t know where to go,” he said without preamble.
“Give me a second,” I said as I started looking into the information. “Directions on their website say that Google Maps sends you to the wrong location. You have to follow the direction on their website.” I paused. “I gave you those directions as well, is that what you followed? Also, what number do you have?”
He read me off the number.
“No, that’s wrong. It should be 5503, not 5530.” I explained. “Now, did you follow the directions in the notes that I sent out with this run, or did you ignore them and get on Google Maps?”
“I got on Google Maps,” he muttered. “Can you read me the directions?”
I did, ending with, “Does that help you any?”
“Yes,” he grumbled. “Now I have to turn this big bitch around in the smallest road possible.” He sighed. “Thanks, Bake.”
He hung up without saying another word, and I put the phone down and messaged the supplier we were doing the pickup to tell him Kenny was on his way, but had to get turned around.
Before I sent the message, my breasts started to pulse, reminding me that I had been here in Copper’s office long enough that I needed to get down to the second floor to feed Holt or my boobs would explode.
I started rubbing them, only to realize how inappropriate that was, and looked up to see if I’d been caught.
I had been.
Copper’s eyes were on me.
There was no expression in them, but he’d been watching me massage them unrepentantly.
“I need to go down to feed Holt,” I said, feeling my cheeks flame.
I was too used to being at the house, practically by myself, while I worked.
I needed to get a better handle on that.
