Chapter 1
Thatcher
My pulse quickened when I saw her.
She came out, walking briskly, holding a bag of trash.
I paused the truck ten feet from the law office to give her time to catch up.
Had I ever seen anyone so captivating before in my life?
Today, her hair was loose, bouncing with each step she took.
Wide hips swished as she walked up to my truck, and I couldn’t help studying her in the rearview mirror.
She had an industrious look on her face. Like she’d had every other time I’d seen her.
She held the bulging trash bag in her hand, with disdain on her face.
“Well?” she snapped at me.
“Drop it in, hon. You know where it goes.”
“I should call yourboss.”
I couldn’t help laughing at that. “Please do. He’dloveto hear from you.”
She was a juxtaposition of soft and sharp.
Soft, wavy hair cascaded to her shoulders, highlighting her ample curves.
But she also had a sharp side that could bite. There was always a brisk clip to her tongue that contrasted against my slow, honey-laden drawl.
Couple that with sharp eyes, calculating the situation, and you just knew you were dealing witha difficult woman.
My favorite type.
Her cushiony lips curved into a prissy little pout, and her pretty eyes narrowed into sharp daggers as I finished my once-over. Maybe I shouldn’t have spent so much time staring at her tits.
She let out a flurry of muttered invectives. I imagined it must have been a hundred curses spoken just softly enough that I couldn’t make any of them out.
But their meaning wasn’t lost on me. It was evident in the strike of her blue eyes as they flashed at me, in the sharp angles of her lips as her mouth moved.
It was a classic standoff on Main Street.
And I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment.
The other lawyer, the old one who’d owned this business for a thousand years, was a man with kind eyes. He’d never sent a harsh word my way. And surely he wouldn’t get mad that his young intern had forgotten to take out the trash… again.
But she was acting like this was a national emergency.
“His name’s Thatcher, by the way,” I told her with a giant grin on my face.
“Who?” she asked, with a hint of confusion.
“Myboss. The one you’re going to call. You want his number, hon?”
I watched as she walked furiously up to the cab of my truck, peered up at me and hissed, “Do your job.”
