Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)(11)

Dear. God.

The man obviously loved to read, but he didn’t love putting his books back on the shelves. Of course, from the look of the shelves that lined the walls, she wasn’t sure where he’d put the rest of his books. They were full to capacity and stuffed to the point she was afraid they would buckle if they hadn’t been made of such sturdy wood. Knowing the rest of the Montgomerys, Storm or Decker had probably made them for Griffin.

And this was just the part of the house she could see.

She didn’t even want to think about the bathroom.

The bathroom she would have to clean.

She shuddered.

“That bad?” Griffin asked, holding out a coffee cup. “I think I remember you having sugar and cream in your coffee at Taboo. I don’t have fresh cream so you’re stuck with the powered stuff. Sorry.”

She took the cup that looked clean and full of fresh coffee from him. He raised a brow then took a deep drink from his mug after blowing on it.

“Ahh…” he whispered into his cup, looking down at his coffee like it was made from the gods, rather than a machine. “I don’t have anything in this house most days, but I always have coffee. I used to have groceries delivered, but then I got stuck in my book and forgot to order again. But coffee? I have that on an automatic delivery.” He quirked a grin at her, and she was pretty sure her womb clenched.

Seriously. Her womb.

How the hell was that even possible? And come to think of it, that kind of clenching wasn’t sexy in the least. This man was single-handedly burning her brain cells. Soon, she’d have a single brain cell left, singing a sad little tune about being lonely.

“I see,” she said slowly. She took a sip of her coffee, praying he hadn’t poisoned her or something then sighed. “Damn.”

Griffin smiled full out. “I know, right? I live on this stuff. Best coffee in the world. I have a fancy maker in the kitchen that I grind beans for, but in my office, I have one of those one cup machines so I don’t have to get up often.”

Apparently, the best coffee in the world allowed Griffin to use his words. Of course, with the taste of manna on her tongue, she could probably formulate a sentence or two, as well. She didn’t want to think about the cost of such coffee. But maybe she could hold the cup closer when he wasn’t looking and cuddle it. On the other hand, that could be too much.

“So, you’re here,” Griffin said, rocking back on his heels.

She didn’t forget he was shirtless and all sexy in front of her, but she refused to look below his chin. That wasn’t easy since he was pretty damn tall, but he was now her boss. There were rules. Etiquette and the like.

Damned if she could remember it all right then, but she’d do her best to try.

“I’m here.” She looked over his shoulder at the clock mounted on the wall. “I’m early, but I didn’t know what schedule we would have. Your family hired me, but technically, I work for you so I figured we’d find a pace that works for us and move on from there.”

“You’re right. I didn’t hire you. I’m not sure I even need you.”

She held in what she really wanted to say after seeing his home and let out a breath. “You’re behind on your deadline and your home is a wreck. I think you need me more than you know.”

Griffin snorted. “And you think you can fix all that? Sorry, but I’ve been doing fine on my own all this time. I don’t need you.”

Ouch. She didn’t know why that phrase hurt as much as it did, but she ignored it. Apparently, bonding over a love of coffee wasn’t enough to make this day easier. Well, he’d just have to deal. Because she might have known this was a mistake, but she didn’t back down when it came to doing what she had to.

She set her coffee cup on the dusty side table and raised a brow of her own. “Really? You’re doing just fine on your own? Then why can’t you order groceries like an adult? Why can’t you dust your house? Or, you know, keep a cleaning service? I hear it’s because you don’t like other people having to depend on you for time and that nonsense. I think it’s all because you think you can do it on your own, and you want to do it on your own, but can’t. That’s fine. You don’t have to. You’re successful enough that you can hire someone. And your family did it for you. So get over yourself and let me help. You want to focus on your book and actually write? Then do it. I’ll take care of the rest. Because sitting in your own dust and dirty clothes without a proper meal isn’t helping.”

Griffin lifted a lip in a snarl but looked like he was holding himself back from yelling at her. Well, that was good. She hadn’t meant to say all of that to him just then. She was usually a bit nicer when it came to other people’s feelings, but there was something about Griffin that might not set her teeth on edge, but did something close enough to it that she didn’t know how she’d react in any given situation. And that was freaking dangerous for a girl like her.

He ran his tongue over his teeth then slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans. And no, she didn’t take a peek at what that hand would do for the bulge beneath his fly. Nope. Not her. She was professional.

Almost.

“What are you going to do for me? Hold my hand when I try to write?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself, writer boy. I’m not going to look over your shoulder while you try to put words on paper because, hell, I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to writing. But I can help you with other things. First, your place is a mess. How you can breathe in here is beyond me. And I hope to God you bring your dates to their homes or a hotel or something because one look at this house and they’d run screaming.”