Savannah doesn’t say anything, just levels those brown eyes… which now that I look at her some more, are really quite lovely.
“Besides… I’ll be in my office most of the time, and you will probably never see me,” I add on, hoping she reconsiders my offer. I really don’t have time to interview other companies, and I’d like to get this taken care of so I can get working on my manuscript.
“What exactly would my duties be? And the pay?” she asks as she turns fully to me.
“Like I said… clean the house, do my laundry. Nothing too hard… twice a week. I’ll pay you five hundred dollars.”
She blinks at me in surprise, and I realize the money I just offered her was ridiculously generous. I didn’t know that until she blinked, but based on the look on her face, it’s clear I have no clue what the value of a cleaning service is. Oh, well… too late to take that back now. I’ll just have to make sure she earns it… like maybe scrub the floor with a toothbrush or something.
“That’s too much,” she tells me, and now I’m the one blinking at her in surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“You would be paying me way too much. It will probably take me about no more than three hours a day if I were to come twice a week. That’s got to be something like… eighty bucks an hour or close to it. Way too much.”
Seriously… this girl… woman, just had a major opportunity to make some serious cash off me, yet here she’s telling me that I’m overpaying her? Who the f**k is that honest these days?
“Tell you what… how about you cook dinner for me the days you come to clean?” I offer.
“That’s still too much,” she says, her eyes determined not to take advantage of me. This is f**king weird? In fact, she’d make a fantastically kooky character in one of my books… a character that was honest to a fault, which means she probably doesn’t have much in the brains department. She’d get eaten by one of my monsters in a nanosecond.
But, I’m officially over being amazed by her naivety and tell her, “Take it or leave it. I don’t have time to mess around with this further, as I’m already terribly behind on my work.”
There she stands again… staring at me in uncertainty, and I can see she’s actually contemplating turning down a job that will pay her more money than she’s probably ever been paid for a job before. It sort of irritates me this foolishness she’s exhibiting, and I start to open my mouth to tell her to get the f**k out, when she says, “I’ll take it. When do you want me to start?”
“How about next Tuesday? The house is practically spotless right now… that will give me a chance to mess it up a bit,” I tell her with a loose grin. “I’ll also make sure to wear clothes every day so you have some laundry to do to earn your paycheck.”
She returns a tentative smile. “I can do that. How about I come on Tuesdays and Fridays then?”
“That will work.”
“Any particular time?” she asks.
Shrugging my shoulders, I walk back into the kitchen and pull a cup out of the cabinet above the coffee pot. The liquid gold is still brewing, but I’m done waiting for the caffeine. I pull the pot back, noting the hiss and sizzle of coffee that drips to the burner before sticking my cup underneath the stream. “I don’t care. I’ll give you a key.”
My cup doesn’t take long to fill, so I pull it back and put the pot back in its place. I take as big of a sip as I can without burning my tongue and turn back to face her. Her eyes are leveled with the fly on my boxers again and they snap up quickly, but not quickly enough to miss her look.
Caught your hand in the cookie jar, little girl, I think to myself and smirk at her while my c**k jumps at the attention. I’m surprised by the boldness of her actions, because she’s seems to be nothing but a shy slip of a girl. But when I see the worry in her eyes that I just busted her sneaky peek, I realize that her look wasn’t bold at all. It was more of an involuntary reaction when I spun around on her, and now she is mortified to have been caught looking at me like that.
Yes, she’d be a lamb left to the slaughter in one of my books. She’s the antithesis of everything that I would find attractive in a woman because while I like my conquests to keep their lips sealed for the most part because conversation is usually a turn off to me, I don’t like the work involved with someone that seems so unsure of their self. I like a woman who knows what she wants and lets it be clear to me that she’s available for the taking. It’s easier that way.
Which makes it very odd that my body would even give the slightest reaction to her. It usually takes a lot to get my dick to twitch since my tastes are pretty singular, yet here I’ve been sporting a semi the entire time I’ve been talking to Savannah this morning.
Oh, well… no sense in dwelling on it. She’s so not my type, so I’ll chalk it up to my c**k just having general curiosities.
Setting my cup down, I walk over to the set of keys that Casey left me with yesterday that I had tossed onto the back kitchen counter. I see there are three keys that all look the same, so I twist one off the ring and hand it over to her. Savannah steps forward and quickly takes the key, grabbing it with the very tips of her finger so we don’t touch.
That amuses me somewhat, and I snicker to myself. Yes, she’d make a wonderful character in one of my books… an anti-heroine of sorts that the reader would feel a bit of kinship to, but would be well satisfied when she met her demise because she’d probably deserve it due to her lack of confidence and complete innocence. Maybe I’ll use her as a muse in my current project. I can never have enough bloody and tortured bodies in my work.