Page 30 of The P*ssy Next Door

Hayes followed me back to the small office, his presence a comforting warmth at my back. I collapsed into the chair in front of the laptop, rubbing my temples.

“I guess we should take a look at the books,” I said, my mind laced with exhaustion before we even started. I did not enjoy digging into the details like this. I was a whole lot better with people than I was data. “Let's see how much I can afford to spend on repairs.”

I doubted it was much based on the first weeks’ worth of business.

Hayes perched on the edge of the desk, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Okay, let's boot it up and see what we're working with.”

I opened up the financial spreadsheet, but the rows of numbers swam before my eyes. I couldn't focus, and the only thing that kept me staring at it for as long as I did was the way Hayes's thumb traced soft circles on my skin. After I entered today's sales and the row calculated this week's running total, I groaned and slammed the laptop shut. We were in the red. Literally. That stupid little box turned bright red, taunting me with its negativity.

Crappity crap. I hated feeling so absolutely inept. I always did whenever I was home surrounded by my family's expectations. Which I never lived up to.

“I shouldn't have said I could do this.” I sank into my chair. I also shouldn't have said that out loud. What I didn't need was Hayes thinking I was a whiny, weak bitch who didn't care about anyone but myself.

Hayes cupped my head and gave my temple a soft kiss, then slowly opened the laptop back up. “I think it's my turn.”

He pulled me out of the chair and took over, typing away, making the spreadsheet move in ways I didn't even know were possible. He even made some pretty graphs that, while colorful, didn't mean a damn thing to me.

“Huh. Umm, I think we're going to be here a while, babe.” He stared back at the screen and honestly, his face looked a bit horrified. “These books are a mess. Make us some tea? I'm gonna need some caffeine.”

Tea? Since when did he drink tea? “Don't you mean coffee?”

He glanced up at me and gave one of those small don't-be-ridiculous headshakes. “You don't like coffee.”

Exqueeze me? I put my hand over my heart, mightily offended. “Of course I do. I'm working in my family's coffee shop. I'm a barista for goodness’ sake.”

Hayes spun the chair around, yanked me into his lap, and gave me a long, lingering, extra tongue-filled kiss. “You taste like some kind of tea that I don't know the name of. Never once have you tasted like coffee.”

“Maybe I just don't want coffee breath.” I gave him a so-there smirk. Besides, coffee breath wasn't conducive to getting kissed.

“The first day I was in here, you told me I was boring for wanting a cup of black coffee.”

“Black coffee is boring. Who drinks hot bean water plain?”

“See, just the fact that you refer to coffee as hot bean water is disdainful. You come up with all kinds of crazy flavor combinations that taste more like ice cream than java, the cups with your name on them always have the strings with the little paper flags hanging off the side, and,” he poked me in the chest, right over my heart, “you broke the espresso machine.”

I had no response to that. He was on a roll now, and it was scary correct.

“Not only do you not like coffee, I think you've got a bit of a mad-on for it. I'd go so far as to say you hate coffee.”

“I... don’t...” He'd noticed all of that in the ten-ish days I'd been here and figured out what no one else in my family ever had? “I don't know whether to be weirded out that you've been coffee stalking me, or relieved that you've figured out my deepest darkest secret.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned in for another kiss. He whispered against my lips, “I want to know all your secrets, Willa.”

He was the first person I ever wanted to share the real me with, and that was bad, because I was already ignoring my own advice and getting way too attached to Hayes Kingman.

WELCOME TO THE KINGMAN LIFE

HAYES

It took some long hours to work through the mess Willa's uncles had left the books in. By the time I had them sorted out, it was real damn clear that George had been floating the business for years. It wasn't even close to profitable.

At least he'd left plenty of money in the business bank account so that Willa didn't have to worry about actually paying the bills, but she was not fucking happy when I showed her how much money the place was bleeding.

“The good news is that you can afford to hire the maintenance guy to fix the espresso machine.” I showed her the details I'd found. “And you don't have to worry about paying him, because it seems George has him on retainer.”

Willa nodded and sagged a little. “I don't know if that's good or bad. Good for the moment, but how often does that piece of crap break down?”

“According to the books, a lot. And if you look here, the shop had no income on the days following, so I think Liam had the same idea as you and shut the place up for those days.”