“Figured I’d get a head start,” I reply chirpily as I set my bag down on the smaller desk he’d designated as mine. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up.”
He doesn’t look at me. “Skip breakfast again?”
I shuffle paper and don’t bother looking at him. “How else will I be eligible to become next season’s Miss City Girl unless I skip breakfast and live on coffee?”
I may need a little help waking up in the morning, but I’m going to earn this man’s respect if it kills me.
Wilder doesn’t respond, just nods toward the stack of papers on my desk. “You can start with supplies and vendors today.”
I peer over to his desk. “Are those this week’s timecards already? I can work on those after I’m done here.”
He grunts. “No, these are from last week. Payroll’s a mess. The guys are already grumbling.”
I frown. “That’s impossible, I totaled each one up twice to be sure.”
Granted, I failed Accounting 101, but who can understand the difference between debits and credits with the way Professor Levitz described it? The guy could say “Assets must equal liabilities plus equity” and “Let’s have a party” and it wouldsound like the same thing.
Wilder still doesn’t look up, punching into an ancient calculator. “Yeah, well, maybe you should have done it a third time,” he mutters.
I cock my head to the side, giving him a pointed look, which he’s determined to ignore.
Not on my watch.
Pushing back from my desk, I walk over to him and pull the card he’s looking at out of his hands. “What was wrong with this one?”
With a sigh, he plucks it back. “Brock worked the weekend too. He should get overtime. He was underpaid.”
Overtime.Right.
I look at the other stack, afraid to ask. “How many were wrong?”
He takes a moment, jaw tightening before he twists his head up at me. “I don’t know, Rose. I don’t know if the rates were right either.”
My chest heats with anger, even if I am the screw-up here. But I swallow it down, putting on my grown-up shoes and leveling my tone. “I’m sure there are better things you can do with your time. This is why you hired me.” I reach for the stack and manage to break them out of his grasp. “I’ll just go through them again.”
He catches the other end of the stack and holds tight.
“Rose, there’s plenty for you to do. Leave this to me. There’s no room for mistakes when it comes to payroll.”
I’m infuriated. Sure, I made a mistake. But who wouldn’t in their first week on the job. Although I do feel bad that I short-changed his hardworking staff. I want to make it right.
“Wilder, let go. I want to fix it.”
“I admire that. But I’m already on it.” There’s an edge to his voice. Like he just wants me to get out of his space.
And maybe it’s his coldness that’s catching up to me now, but I am not backing down. “Let. Go.”
“Rose,” he warns with an effortless tug.
I tug a little harder. OK, a lot harder since there’s no budging from his side.
With a groan, I give it my all until they’re yanked out of my hand and I stumble forward—gasping as I crash onto him, his chair rocking under the impact.
My hands press against his chest as I find myself draped over his torso—and between his legs.
I feel him tighten .?.?.everywhere. Like I’m a bumble bee that might sting him with one wrong move.
“Jesus,” he growls low, a muscle flexing in his strong jaw.
