Page 46 of Nick: His to Claim

When he informed her that she would be leaving work no later than five-thirty each night, she promptly jumped to her feet and just as promptly sat back down when his eyebrow shot up.

If something came up that required her crew to stop work early, such as poor weather conditions, she was to leave with the rest of the employees and not hang around alone for any reason whatsoever. No paperwork was so crucial that she would be expected to stay and put herself at risk.

There would be no more skipping lunch breaks and no extended overtime. If a supervisor was required to stay late, Charlie or one of the other senior workers would stay.

“I believe I’ve covered everything, Maggie. Do you have any questions?” Mason asked, his cool blue eyes never wavering from her.

“Just one. Did Nick put you up to any of this, or are they your ideas?”

“These are the rules for your continued employment at Kord Contracting,” he told her firmly. “Any conversations I may have had with Nick, or Rory for that matter, have only reinforced my own opinions. If these rules are unacceptable to you, I would be glad to give you a reference so that you may seek employment elsewhere,” he ground out holding onto his temper by a thread.

He promised Nick he would go as easy on her as he could. She’d had quite a weekend, and he had no desire to hurt her pride, but she needed to know he meant business. Maggie was strong-willed and pretty determined to get her way, but today that wasn’t going to work. Much as he cared for her, it would be his way or the highway. He owed it to her family and Nick to do everything he could to help keep her safe, even from her own poor judgment.

“Well, what’s it going to be Maggie?”

“You already know. I need this job, and as far as I can tell, I don’t have much choice. I’ll do as you say, Mace. Not because I think you’re right, but because you’re the boss.”

“Smart move, honey,” he told her smiling. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

"Be sure to let Nick and Rory know,” she replied sarcastically as she pulled her hat on and turned to leave. “Maybe you guys can meet later to congratulate yourselves with some good ole’ boys’ backslapping.”

She could hear Mason swearing as she shut the door. Thank God he didn’t come after her.

She was definitely out of line. Damn, would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut?

* * *

Promptly at five-thirty, Mason stuck his head out of the site trailer and spotting Maggie, jerked his thumb in the direction of her truck. Rolling her eyes, she stomped her way across the yard but restrained herself from flipping him the bird. No sense in pushing her luck.

Nick’s van was parked in the driveway and she could smell garlic the second she opened the door. She didn’t know what was better, the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen or the sight of him with his sleeves rolled up wearing one of the Grandmother’s aprons. How he could look so masculine in gingham, she didn’t know.

“Hey, how was your day?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck.

His hands slipped down to her bottom and snagged her tight against him. For a brief moment she forgot her day sucked.

“Was Mason a bear? I hope he wasn’t too rough on you, even if it was exactly what you deserved.”

Maggie, who had closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure quickly pushed back against his hard chest and tried to tamp down her desire.

“Mason’s always a bear, but then you all are. I swear if you had your way women would be permanently stuck in the fifties.”

Nick just grinned and refused to let her go, kissing her neck and rubbing her back in mock sympathy.

“Poor baby,” he crooned. “You’ll feel better after you eat. We’re having lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. I hope you like it. I’ve been slaving in the kitchen for hours,” he stated dramatically.

“You made it?” she asked in disbelief.

“Well I bought it, and I cooked it. Doesn’t that count?”

Maggie laughed.

“Anything I don’t have to cook counts,” she told him grinning. Peering over his shoulder she could see that the kitchen was sparkling clean, the table was set and there was a beautiful vase of pink roses sitting on the counter.

“Nick,” she cried, wiggling out of his arms, making her way to the flowers. “What are these for? They’re lovely.”

“I just wanted to see you smile, and besides, I’m wooing you,” he informed her with a crooked grin.

“Wooing me?” she laughed. “Really?”