Page 4 of Maid For Each Other
The Millionaire Meets His Maid
Abi
“Would you like your receipt?”
“No,” the woman said, grabbing her Lululemon tote bag and heading for the exit of Benny’s Natural Grocers without giving me a second glance.
“Have a good day,” I yelled before turning to ring up the next customer in line.
I hated this job, this perfectly easy and mind-numbing job. I’d worked at Benny’s since high school, so it was comfortable, not to mention necessary because it supplied me with my health insurance, but every shift just reminded me that my life was stuck in quicksand that I might never get out of.
Hence my second go-round of college.
Hence my need for this job and my three-times-a-week overnight job.
Hence my propensity for thinking stupid words likehence.
“Hi,” I said robotically to the next customer, my mouth on autopilot before I noticed the person in line didn’t have anything on the belt. I raised my eyes to the customer’s face but then—wow.
I might’ve actually gasped aloud.
There were a lot of attractive men out there, but this man had to be The One they were inspired by.
He was tall—like six and a half feet of tall—but no one would call him lanky. They would never. Broad shoulders filled out the impeccably tailored suit, and he reminded me of a professional football player when they did the long walk from the bus to the locker room.
Expensive.
Built.
Perfect.
And not to be messed with.
His face made that point even more than his impressive physique, actually.
He had brown eyes—no, green—that were trained on me and absolutely butterfly-inducing with their directness. It was like the man was staring into my soul, I swear to God, and his lips were turned up like he wanted to smile.
I usually didn’t notice mouths on men, to be honest, but the bow on his top lip—or maybe it was the fullness of the bottom—drew my eyes downward as if it were a magnet and my irises were flecked with steel.
I could picture that mouth speaking French. Or Italian. I forced my eyes back up and offhandedly thought that this well-dressed man could actually be the cover model for any romance novel about mob bosses, racecar drivers, or grumpy billionaires.
I opened my smitten mouth to say “How can I help you?” without drooling when he said in a midnight-rich voice, “Hello, Abi with ani.”
“Hi…?” I narrowed my eyes, biting my lip so I didn’t smile like a lovesick schoolgirl as his eyes dipped to my name tag.
“You don’t recognize me?” he asked, tilting his head.
Did I know him? There’s no way I could’ve forgotten that face, right? I tried not to seem too flirty, but Joey Tribbiani’show you doin’?was totally in my tone when I said, “Should I?”
“I would think so, since just this morning you woke up in my bed and told my parents you’re my girlfriend.”
“Oh. Shit.”Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.
“Oh, shit, indeed,” he repeated, his eyes judgmental under slashing dark brows as he watched me like I was a bug he was about to squash.
My heart started pounding and I was hot everywhere as this man stared me down with pure disdain.
“Benny,” I yelled, not taking my eyes off the guy’s face. “I need to go on break.”
