Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(6)

“You have your Masters in Arts Management, with distinctions in photography and drawing.” He frowned, eyeing me over the pages. “That’s impressive. What brought you back here?”

“Did you miss it in all your research about me that the school I attended is in severe financial trouble and is no longer accepting new students because they’re closing their doors soon?”

Logan didn’t answer.

I shook my head. “Well, it’s a fortune telling for my entire career, I think. Finding a job as an artist when you don’t do graphic design or something similar is difficult. And so, here I am,” I said, sweeping my hands over our surrounding area before I folded my arms over my chest again.

Logan opened his mouth like he wanted to ask me more, but thought better of it. He reached deeper inside the folder, instead, pulling out two copies of a very colorful sheet of paper.

“Alright, then,” he murmured. “We’ll get to know each other better at a later time. For now, let’s go over your training schedule.”

The Becker brothers were known for being as devastatingly handsome as they were mischievous, and I couldn’t help but appreciate that fact as Logan started pointing out the various sections of my schedule. His skin was a mixture of olive and bronze, his hair a sandy brown shade that reminded me of the bark of an oak tree. His eyes were a bright hazel, almost like the golden yellow of a cat’s, and ringed with a darker shade of olive around the rim. He was considerably taller than I was, which I noticed when he stood to greet me, and his body was lean and fit. I found myself wondering if he got up to run every morning, or if he spent his evenings doing calisthenics workouts in his back yard.

But of all his physical features that demanded a second look, it was his smile that was the most mesmerizing.

He’d only flashed it at me once since I’d walked in that office, but it’d been genuine enough for me to see the slight pinch of a dimple in his left cheek, to note the way those pearly whites of his spread across his entire face. His mouth was large, his jaw broad and sharp.

It was no surprise to me that he didn’t let a girl tie him down. Why would you with a face like that?

“… and the yellow indicates lunch, which you’ll see I’ve paired you with a different lunch buddy each day of the week for the first two weeks. I figured it’s a good way for you to get to know some of the people who work here.”

I chuckled, snapping back to the moment and finally noting the — impressive? crazy? — amount of colors on the spreadsheet in front of me. Every minute of my day over the next few weeks was mapped out in blues and oranges and yellows and greens and purples.

Logan paused. “Is something funny?”

I popped my gum, giving him a smile. “Just you. You’re interesting, Logan Becker.”

“Why, because I have an organized schedule for you as a new employee? Because I have my books in order?” The muscle in his jaw clenched when I popped my gum again. “I’m not na?ve to the fact that you’re making fun of me, Miss Scooter, and I’ll have you know that I don’t appreciate it.”

I laughed harder at that, but it was cut short when Logan’s fists landed hard against the desk.

Everything on it rattled and shook, the little ball pendulum being thrown off track before it slowly swung back into rhythm. My eyes widened, and Logan’s narrowed, his next breath coming hard through his nostrils like that of a dragon.

“Why are you even here?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “You’re not taking me seriously, you clearly don’t want to be here, you’re dressed like a teenager and you have the manners of one, too. So, before you waste any more of my time, tell me — why are you here?”

It was the first time I’d seen Logan Becker’s backbone since I walked in that office, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on in the strangest way.

I’m here because I fucking have to be, I wanted to say. I’m here because if I do what my father wants, then I get what I want. I’m here because life isn’t fair and the starving artist life sucks.

“It’s none of your business why I’m here,” I said instead, leaning toward him over the desk. “And I wasn’t making fun of you. I think it’s endearing that you took so much time to create a color-coded training schedule. I apologize if I offended you.”

Logan narrowed his eyes even more, searching my gaze like he was looking for some sign of sarcasm. When he didn’t find it, he sighed, sitting back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t want to do this anymore than you do, okay? Training the new employee isn’t exactly high on my list of things I’d like to do, just like I’m sure working as a tour guide when you have a Masters in Art isn’t high on yours.”

My gut twisted.

“But, this is where we’re at. Okay? So, are you going to cooperate and let me show you the ropes or not?”

I just stared at him, wondering why I liked the severity of his expression now more than I liked the friendly one he offered before.

Something about that scowl…

“Good,” he said when I didn’t answer, tucking his copy of my training schedule back in the file and slamming it shut before he stood. “Come on, it’s time for the tour.”

He didn’t look behind him to see if I was following, and before I could stand, he offered one last remark over his shoulder.