Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)(10)

Autumn had read his books—though she hadn’t told him that. The man was talented, and while she usually saved as much of her precious income as possible, she usually forked over the money for a hardback as soon as the book released.

But she wouldn’t mention that to him either.

Not when she couldn’t stop staring at those Montgomery blue eyes that looked so freaking sexy. The other Montgomerys may have similar eyes, but no one had ones as beautiful as Griffin’s in her opinion.

And that was why she couldn’t work for him.

She’d be cleaning up after him, organizing his life, getting in the way… There was no way she’d be able to do all of that and remain professional. Of course if she gave herself any credit at all, she would remember that she’d worked with sexy men all her life. She could just get over it. She hadn’t had a serious relationship yet, and she wouldn’t start now—not with the state of her life. So she wasn’t about to fall for a man, especially not one who would dare to call her Fall.

The real reason that she couldn’t work for him was that she was getting too close to the whole family. It would be harder to leave when the time came—and that was soon. They might miss her or want her forwarding address. She couldn’t afford to have either occur.

But because she was an idiot, instead of packing up her belongings and heading out of town, she stood on Griffin’s doorstep, his spare key in hand, and her throat as dry as a desert.

Because that made total sense.

She adjusted the strap of her cross-chest purse that she kept with her no matter the outfit she wore and lifted her hand to knock. She wouldn’t use the key Marie Montgomery had given her yet. The older woman had mentioned the week prior when Autumn was hired that Griffin might not be the most…energetic when it came to the idea of a personal assistant—one more reason not to accept the position—and had given Autumn a key in case Griffin didn’t answer the door. She’d also mentioned that his not answering the door could be for a number of reasons—he was working, sleeping, or otherwise occupied. Or he could just not want to answer the door and let her in.

Hence why most of the Montgomerys walked into each other’s homes whenever they felt like it. It was as if they trusted one another to try and respect their idea of space and personal boundaries.

Such a strange concept.

The door opened with her hand in the air, hovering just off the door while she contemplated running back to her car and leaving Denver altogether. She blinked, her mouth going dry once again at the sight of him.

Griffin stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled as if he’d just woken up and hadn’t bothered to run his hands through it in an attempt to tame it. He also had lines from his pillow on his face, and his eyes were only partially open—the early morning light much too harsh for him.

Her gaze traveled down from his face to his bare chest and she had to force herself to not lick her rapidly drying lips. He had a sprinkling of hair on his torso—no over-manscaping for him—and ink on his pec, sides, and part of his neck. His washboard abs looked like he spent hours at the gym, yet not crazy like some of the overly muscled men looked. The deep V at his hips pointed to a nice happy trail that ended at the top of the jeans he’d left unbuttoned. From the look of him, he’d hastily put on a pair of pants to get to the door, but hadn’t bothered to button the fly…or put on underwear.

Was it getting hot out? She was pretty sure she could feel sweat roll down her back at the sight of him.

“You.” His voice was gruff, unused.

She shot her gaze to his face as he ran his hand over his beard. “Me.”

Oh, good. Articulate. Mature. Professional.

Was there a hole she could bury herself in for a bit? She didn’t need a deep one or anything.

“I thought I heard someone on the porch,” he mumbled. “I need coffee.” He stood back then turned away, walking deeper into the house.

She blinked. Uh…what was that? Should she follow him? Was he not a morning person? Maybe he wasn’t a people person. Why had she taken this job again? Oh, yeah, she was a glutton for Montgomery punishment apparently.

She took a hesitant step forward then paused. No, she couldn’t be tentative. She needed to be forceful, commanding. She needed to make this man into a better author and a more organized individual, and being a timid kitten around him wouldn’t work. She needed to raise her chin and walk in with a presence.

Autumn rolled her shoulders back and took another step into the room, only to freeze.

Dear. God.

The man cave had exploded, dying a fiery death of disorganization and clutter. Clothes were strewn over every piece of furniture he had. Dust covered the end tables and coffee table, though there wasn’t any on his crazy-ass large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Of course that made sense, as he’d want to watch TV without dust interfering. From the cotton shirts on the cabinet under the TV, she figured he used those to wipe it down when the layer of dirt got to be too much.

Thankfully, she couldn’t see any trash or crusty dishes beyond coffee cups lying around. So maybe it wasn’t dirty…it was just messy. But still.

How did anyone live like this?

Oh, she forgot the books.

So. Many. Books.

Paperbacks, trade paperbacks, hardbacks. Stacks of papers that looked like they were an older manuscript clipped together. And was that…yes, that was an eReader pressed between the pages of a hardback as if it were a bookmark.