Page 4 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

“I know exactly where I am.”

She moved on to an unrelated recovery question, so Rex took the call private and stepped toward the window while I returned to the second desk.

For the first time since the restaurant sale had begun destabilizing my job, I had something concrete in front of me that I could improve. The relief was immediate. I separated current items from older records, grouped property expenses together, and made a small pile of anything that appeared to require Annette’s attention. I didn’t reorganize his office around him. I simply began making the existing system visible enough that another person could follow it.

By the time Rex ended the call, I had cleared a section of the desk.

He stopped beside me and looked down at the exposed wood. “I’d forgotten what color that was.”

“You’re welcome.”

His low laugh followed me as I reached for another stack.

He was close enough now that I caught the clean scent of soap beneath the faint trace of cold air clinging to his flannel. When he reached past me for the stapler, the movement brought his arm beside mine, and awareness tightened low in my belly before I could pretend I hadn’t noticed the contact.

Rex straightened with the stapler in his hand. His gaze met mine and held for an extra beat.

Then he moved back to his side of the desk.

I concentrated on a vendor receipt with more determination than it deserved.

When I was twenty-one, Rex McCord had been inseparable in my mind from Gavin’s case.

Seven years later, he still carried that history, but it had become difficult to ignore that he was also forty-six, broad enough to make the office feel smaller, and wearing flannel in a way that should probably have violated some local ordinance.

We discussed employment terms while continuing to sort.

Rex offered a fair hourly wage immediately. I had expected to negotiate, and the lack of games made it easier to explain what I wanted.

“I’d like part of every paycheck to go directly toward the Dean reimbursement balance.”

He stopped entering an expense on his computer and turned toward me. “You know you don’t have to structure it that way.”

“I know.”

“I mean legally, Georgia. You weren’t an original indemnitor on Gavin’s bond.”

“I understand what I’m paying.” I set down the receipt I had been holding so I could give him my full attention. “North Fork’s surety paid after Gavin forfeited. My family had collateral and started repaying the resulting obligation. I took over the payments later because I chose to. I’m not confused about whether somebody can force me to keep doing it.”

Rex listened without interrupting, and nothing in his expression suggested he planned to argue with a decision I had just explained.

After a moment, he nodded. “Then we can direct an agreed percentage if that’s what you want. Your wage stays the same as it would for anyone else doing the job.”

“That works for me.”

“I’m freezing further interest while you work here too.”

That took me longer to absorb.

I rested my hand on the edge of the desk. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t.” Rex turned the computer monitor slightly, bringing up what appeared to be the account information without exposing anything unrelated. “You’re coming in here to make North Fork run better. I’m not going to let this balance grow while you’re spending your working hours fixing our backlog. If you quit next week, you quit. The job doesn’t create a new obligation, and neither does the payment arrangement.”

I could accept the terms without feeling as though I had surrendered anything.

“Okay,” I said. “Then thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”