World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

She pulled the large box out and balanced it on her shoulder as she nimbly climbed down the ladder as though she usually carried boxes bigger than herself on a regular basis.

“You scared me,” I finally said.

Saidy shrieked and spun around to face me. “What are you doing? You know I hate getting scared!”

“Well, we’re even. Because I just watched you teeter on the top of that ladder like you were about to crack your head on this concrete.” I tried to keep my tone level; I really did. But by the angry furrow in her forehead, I don’t think I’d succeeded.

“I made it, didn’t I?”

“What’s all this broken glass?” I pointed to the tiny shards covering the floor.

“I knocked one of my spare light bulbs down. I’ll sweep it up. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know what you’re freaking out about.” She shrugged as she set the box onto her worktable and grabbed a broom.

“I’m freaking out because I don’t want to see you hurt! If you’d fallen, no one would have known you were in here.”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” she replied saucily as she swept the broken glass into a pile. I was glad she was wearing close-toed shoes on this rare occasion.

I took a step toward her, her eyes widened, and I opened my mouth, ready to deliver a lecture on safety.

My work phone chimed loudly, interrupting the moment. It was my special chime that sounded like a short foghorn blast. I saved it specifically for one person.

Need you to send some files secure. —Sullivan

He always added his name to a text. As though no one had ever heard of caller ID.

Now. —Sullivan

Technically, Sullivan paid me enough to keep on retainer. He thought I had a small start-up and was still struggling to pull in some customers. He thought that in my spare time, when I wasn’t working for him, I was doing a multitude of other IT tasks for any customer I could drum up.

He offered to pay me twice my normal fee to do some ‘extra’ tasks for him. Which meant he was wanting me to keep my mouth shut about anything I might see in my role as his computer expert.

He’d been considerate of the fact that I had a small business, and originally hadn’t demanded much of my time. But the more I proved that I could keep my mouth shut, the more Sullivan needed me.

Lately, however, Sullivan hadn’t been as lenient with my time. He needed more security. More routine checks. More secure servers. He wanted everything he did to be secure—even things like paying for a cup of coffee he didn’t want traced back to him. That’s how paranoia set in on someone who was about to pull off the score of their lifetime. His paranoia was working in our favor, however. He was getting sloppy. Tipping his hand in ways he never had before this.

He’d asked me to help set up a secure server for some business transactions, and unfortunately wanted me there anytime he needed to make said transaction.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

“Duty calls,” Saidy mocked as she swept the last of the glass into the dustpan.

“Saidy,” I growled.

She pretended to tap her invisible watch on her wrist. “Time for you to go to work.”

“I’ll be back when I have more time.” Would it take me any extra time to grab the bags right now? No. But I needed an excuse to stop by and see her again.

She didn’t look pleased with that, so I hurried away to go deal with a moody criminal broker.

Chapter Eight

Saidy

Mom: I’m going shopping tonight after work. Are you free?

Saidy: Yes!

Mom: I’ll pick you up at 5:30. We’ll grab some dinner together.

I finished taping up the last edge of a mantel after I read my mom’s text. It would be easy to contract out the painting part of interior design. But when there were intricate pieces to work around, or special designs, I preferred to do it myself. Today I was painting a stenciled pattern above the fireplace mantel in a new build. It was so much simpler to do these types of things before someone moved in. I had a wide-open space to turn into exactly what they wanted.

This house might go down in history as my favorite to work on. They hired me to do all of the design. And I mean ALL of it. I was even given a budget to furnish the place, and while I was out shopping with my mom tonight, I could be picking up the pieces the owners and I had decided on.

My one-person company, Bespoke Perez Design, was all about creating a unique design experience for my clients. If I couldn’t find a unique thing to fit their needs, then I would alter it, resurface it, or build it custom for them. It was why I loved my job. Everything had my own personal touch on it, and my clients could tell. They weren’t going to go to their neighbor’s house for dinner and sit on the same chair they had at home. They knew their home design would be special and completely unique just for them.

Setting the tape back into my work crate, I took the laser level and lined it up on the wall, finding the perfect height for the stencil.

I taped the stencil in place and picked up my paint brush from the paint tray.

Thirty minutes later, and I’d finished the first coat. I left the stencil on the wall so that I could do the second layer first thing in the morning.

I carefully stashed all of my paint brushes in the wet bags to keep them pliable for the morning.

With a final check to make sure my stencil wouldn’t slip overnight, I walked out the front door, locking it with the key the owners had given me. I double-checked the lock once more, just to be sure.

The