Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  But she wouldn’t mention that to him either.

  Not when she couldn’t stop staring at those Montgomery blue eyes that looked so freaking sexy. The other Montgomerys may have similar eyes, but no one had ones as beautiful as Griffin’s in her opinion.

  And that was why she couldn’t work for him.

  She’d be cleaning up after him, organizing his life, getting in the way… There was no way she’d be able to do all of that and remain professional. Of course if she gave herself any credit at all, she would remember that she’d worked with sexy men all her life. She could just get over it. She hadn’t had a serious relationship yet, and she wouldn’t start now—not with the state of her life. So she wasn’t about to fall for a man, especially not one who would dare to call her Fall.

  The real reason that she couldn’t work for him was that she was getting too close to the whole family. It would be harder to leave when the time came—and that was soon. They might miss her or want her forwarding address. She couldn’t afford to have either occur.

  But because she was an idiot, instead of packing up her belongings and heading out of town, she stood on Griffin’s doorstep, his spare key in hand, and her throat as dry as a desert.

  Because that made total sense.

  She adjusted the strap of her cross-chest purse that she kept with her no matter the outfit she wore and lifted her hand to knock. She wouldn’t use the key Marie Montgomery had given her yet. The older woman had mentioned the week prior when Autumn was hired that Griffin might not be the most…energetic when it came to the idea of a personal assistant—one more reason not to accept the position—and had given Autumn a key in case Griffin didn’t answer the door. She’d also mentioned that his not answering the door could be for a number of reasons—he was working, sleeping, or otherwise occupied. Or he could just not want to answer the door and let her in.

  Hence why most of the Montgomerys walked into each other’s homes whenever they felt like it. It was as if they trusted one another to try and respect their idea of space and personal boundaries.

  Such a strange concept.

  The door opened with her hand in the air, hovering just off the door while she contemplated running back to her car and leaving Denver altogether. She blinked, her mouth going dry once again at the sight of him.

  Griffin stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled as if he’d just woken up and hadn’t bothered to run his hands through it in an attempt to tame it. He also had lines from his pillow on his face, and his eyes were only partially open—the early morning light much too harsh for him.

  Her gaze traveled down from his face to his bare chest and she had to force herself to not lick her rapidly drying lips. He had a sprinkling of hair on his torso—no over-manscaping for him—and ink on his pec, sides, and part of his neck. His washboard abs looked like he spent hours at the gym, yet not crazy like some of the overly muscled men looked. The deep V at his hips pointed to a nice happy trail that ended at the top of the jeans he’d left unbuttoned. From the look of him, he’d hastily put on a pair of pants to get to the door, but hadn’t bothered to button the fly…or put on underwear.

  Was it getting hot out? She was pretty sure she could feel sweat roll down her back at the sight of him.

  “You.” His voice was gruff, unused.

  She shot her gaze to his face as he ran his hand over his beard. “Me.”

  Oh, good. Articulate. Mature. Professional.

  Was there a hole she could bury herself in for a bit? She didn’t need a deep one or anything.

  “I thought I heard someone on the porch,” he mumbled. “I need coffee.” He stood back then turned away, walking deeper into the house.

  She blinked. Uh…what was that? Should she follow him? Was he not a morning person? Maybe he wasn’t a people person. Why had she taken this job again? Oh, yeah, she was a glutton for Montgomery punishment apparently.

  She took a hesitant step forward then paused. No, she couldn’t be tentative. She needed to be forceful, commanding. She needed to make this man into a better author and a more organized individual, and being a timid kitten around him wouldn’t work. She needed to raise her chin and walk in with a presence.

  Autumn rolled her shoulders back and took another step into the room, only to freeze.

  Dear. God.

  The man cave had exploded, dying a fiery death of disorganization and clutter. Clothes were strewn over every piece of furniture he had. Dust covered the end tables and coffee table, though there wasn’t any on his crazy-ass large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Of course that made sense, as he’d want to watch TV without dust interfering. From the cotton shirts on the cabinet under the TV, she figured he used those to wipe it down when the layer of dirt got to be too much.

  Thankfully, she couldn’t see any trash or crusty dishes beyond coffee cups lying around. So maybe it wasn’t dirty…it was just messy. But still.

  How did anyone live like this?

  Oh, she forgot the books.

  So. Many. Books.

  Paperbacks, trade paperbacks, hardbacks. Stacks of papers that looked like they were an older manuscript clipped together. And was that…yes, that was an eReader pressed between the pages of a hardback as if it were a bookmark.

  Dear. God.

  The man obviously loved to read, but he didn’t love putting his books back on the shelves. Of course, from the look of the shelves that lined the walls, she wasn’t sure where he’d put the rest of his books. They were full to capacity and stuffed to the point she was afraid they would buckle if they hadn’t been made of such sturdy wood. Knowing the rest of the Montgomerys, Storm or Decker had probably made them for Griffin.

  And this was just the part of the house she could see.

  She didn’t even want to think about the bathroom.

  The bathroom she would have to clean.

  She shuddered.

  “That bad?” Griffin asked, holding out a coffee cup. “I think I remember you having sugar and cream in your coffee at Taboo. I don’t have fresh cream so you’re stuck with the powered stuff. Sorry.”

  She took the cup that looked clean and full of fresh coffee from him. He raised a brow then took a deep drink from his mug after blowing on it.

  “Ahh…” he whispered into his cup, looking down at his coffee like it was made from the gods, rather than a machine. “I don’t have anything in this house most days, but I always have coffee. I used to have groceries delivered, but then I got stuck in my book and forgot to order again. But coffee? I have that on an automatic delivery.” He quirked a grin at her, and she was pretty sure her womb clenched.

  Seriously. Her womb.

  How the hell was that even possible? And come to think of it, that kind of clenching wasn’t sexy in the least. This man was single-handedly burning her brain cells. Soon, she’d have a single brain cell left, singing a sad little tune about being lonely.

  “I see,” she said slowly. She took a sip of her coffee, praying he hadn’t poisoned her or something then sighed. “Damn.”

  Griffin smiled full out. “I know, right? I live on this stuff. Best coffee in the world. I have a fancy maker in the kitchen that I grind beans for, but in my office, I have one of those one cup machines so I don’t have to get up often.”

  Apparently, the best coffee in the world allowed Griffin to use his words. Of course, with the taste of manna on her tongue, she could probably formulate a sentence or two, as well. She didn’t want to think about the cost of such coffee. But maybe she could hold the cup closer when he wasn’t looking and cuddle it. On the other hand, that could be too much.

  “So, you’re here,” Griffin said, rocking back on his heels.

  She didn’t forget he was shirtless and all sexy in front of her, but she refused to look below his chin. That wasn’t easy since he was pretty damn tall, but he was now her boss. There were rules. Etiquette and the like.

  Damned if she could remember it all right then, but she’d do her best to try.


  “I’m here.” She looked over his shoulder at the clock mounted on the wall. “I’m early, but I didn’t know what schedule we would have. Your family hired me, but technically, I work for you so I figured we’d find a pace that works for us and move on from there.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t hire you. I’m not sure I even need you.”

  She held in what she really wanted to say after seeing his home and let out a breath. “You’re behind on your deadline and your home is a wreck. I think you need me more than you know.”

  Griffin snorted. “And you think you can fix all that? Sorry, but I’ve been doing fine on my own all this time. I don’t need you.”

  Ouch. She didn’t know why that phrase hurt as much as it did, but she ignored it. Apparently, bonding over a love of coffee wasn’t enough to make this day easier. Well, he’d just have to deal. Because she might have known this was a mistake, but she didn’t back down when it came to doing what she had to.

  She set her coffee cup on the dusty side table and raised a brow of her own. “Really? You’re doing just fine on your own? Then why can’t you order groceries like an adult? Why can’t you dust your house? Or, you know, keep a cleaning service? I hear it’s because you don’t like other people having to depend on you for time and that nonsense. I think it’s all because you think you can do it on your own, and you want to do it on your own, but can’t. That’s fine. You don’t have to. You’re successful enough that you can hire someone. And your family did it for you. So get over yourself and let me help. You want to focus on your book and actually write? Then do it. I’ll take care of the rest. Because sitting in your own dust and dirty clothes without a proper meal isn’t helping.”

  Griffin lifted a lip in a snarl but looked like he was holding himself back from yelling at her. Well, that was good. She hadn’t meant to say all of that to him just then. She was usually a bit nicer when it came to other people’s feelings, but there was something about Griffin that might not set her teeth on edge, but did something close enough to it that she didn’t know how she’d react in any given situation. And that was freaking dangerous for a girl like her.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth then slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans. And no, she didn’t take a peek at what that hand would do for the bulge beneath his fly. Nope. Not her. She was professional.

  Almost.

  “What are you going to do for me? Hold my hand when I try to write?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself, writer boy. I’m not going to look over your shoulder while you try to put words on paper because, hell, I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to writing. But I can help you with other things. First, your place is a mess. How you can breathe in here is beyond me. And I hope to God you bring your dates to their homes or a hotel or something because one look at this house and they’d run screaming.”

  She shut her mouth, her eyes widening. She so did not need to think of him with his dates. Now, she could only imagine him naked above his date—who happened to be her, of course—sliding in and out of her oh so slowly, his gaze on hers, never breaking contact. He’d flex his ass as he slowly tilted his hips up, fucking her with such a sweet seduction that she’d come achingly long over his cock before he filled her, groaning her name as he fell off the high cliff along with her.

  Her cheeks burned, and Griffin tilted his head, studying her. “I don’t bring my dates here. But I’d pay a whole hell of a lot to find out what just went through your mind just then, Fall.”

  That brought her out of her embarrassment. “Fall? Really? Are you like twelve? I thought you were a writer. Can’t you come up with something a bit more clever?”

  “I could, but I like the look on your face when I say it. It’s a mix of annoyance and laughter that I can’t quite place. So you’re stuck with that if you’re not going to just go away.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Fine. But I don’t know what cleaning my house will do. I’m still not bringing dates here because this is my place. The one you’re currently invading. And while I’m here, I need to work, yet I don’t think you cleaning will help with that.”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” The word invading irked her, but she ignored it. He’d just have to get over himself.

  “You’d think. But I fired the other cleaning services because they messed with my writing time.”

  “Put on headphones, then. Because I’m cleaning. And cooking because you can’t survive on coffee, takeout, and the occasional meal at a family member’s for long. You’re in your thirties. You need to take care of yourself.”

  From the look of his body, good genes and working out helped, but the damn man needed vitamins, as well.

  Enough thinking about his body.

  “So you’re going to cook, clean, and I take it shop?” Griffin sucked in a breath. “And all of that should free me up so I can write?”

  She wanted to scream at his attitude but stopped herself when she saw the look in his eye. The man was scared. Or at least something close to it. She knew he was behind on his deadline because the family had told her, but why was he behind? Could he not write at all? Because if that were the case, it would be a shame. She loved his worlds, the way he wrote, and everything about his books. And if she could help him at least a little bit, it would be worth the attitude.

  “I don’t see how it couldn’t help. Plus I’m going to revamp your site.” She frowned. “Wrong word. From what I can see, your site has a decent template. I can just update it and make it so your readers know what’s coming next. Things like that. And I’m going to get your social media working because readers need to know who you are.”

  Griffin narrowed his eyes. “They don’t. They just need my books. That’s it.”

  She waved her hand at him. “You’re a thriller writer, honey, you only think that. I’ll help you and make sure I don’t make it too personal, but have them think it’s just personal enough.” That last part was what she excelled at in real life. It couldn’t be any harder to put it out on the Internet where there was a computer to shield her.

  “I don’t want them knowing everything about my life.”

  “And they won’t. But they need to know you exist. At least a little. Also, I’m going to help you with a book bible or whatever else you need.”

  “Don’t touch my books.”

  She held up her hands. “I will not ever touch your books while you’re writing them. Nor will I harm your words. I just want to make things easier for you. It’s why your family hired me. When I get the lay of the land, I’ll know better what you need, but you need to know you’re not alone in this. I’m going to help.”

  “And if I still don’t want your help?”

  “Suck it up, buttercup. I’m here to stay.” At least until I move away again.

  “Buttercup? Really, Fall?”

  She flipped him off. Oh, perfect way to suck up to the boss. “Now, go to your office or whatever you need to do to get started for the day. I’m going to work on laundry. Or dusting. Or at least something so I can breathe in your house without feeling the need to shower.”

  His gaze raked her body, and her nipples pebbled into hard points, pressing into her bra and for damn well sure showing through her shirt.

  “If you need to shower, Fall, go right ahead.”

  She snorted and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Not until I clean it. I don’t know where you’ve been.” And with that, she pulled out a notepad and a pen, ready to take notes so she knew exactly what she needed to do and what supplies she’d need. Because this man’s house was going to be a full-time responsibility, and the man himself was going to be even more.

  She might be making a mistake, but at least she’d be good at it while she was making it. And if she kept telling herself that, she could try to ignore the way just the man’s presence made her want to spread her legs and beckon him over.

  Because that wasn’t going to happen.

  Ever.
>
  Chapter Four

  Griffin was in hell. A hot hell where the voices in his head didn’t talk to him anymore and his cock was so hard he was afraid he’d rip through his jeans and embarrass himself.

  Why had he told his mother that having Autumn over was an acceptable thing? Oh, yeah, he hadn’t. He’d slightly given in but not fully. It wasn’t like he could truly say no to his mom. Add in his three sisters, and he was screwed. He didn’t like people in his space while he was working. Well, he didn’t like people in his space on days he wasn’t working either.

  He had family over when he had to, and even let his cousins stay over since he had the most space for them. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Of course, none of this actually had to do with why he felt like he was in hell currently.

  No, that privilege went to the woman currently humming in his living room.

  Humming. Like she was actually happy about cleaning up after him. Damn it. He was an animal. A pig. A teenager who refused to clean his room because he was a fucking lazy screwup.

  Of course, he hadn’t truly thought that until he had a woman he didn’t know but thought was fucking sexy as hell standing in his home and looking on in disgust. He wasn’t filthy. There wasn’t trash sitting around with bugs and shit, but still, he was cluttered. He knew that. He cleaned up when he could, and honestly, right now was the worst it had ever been.

  And it was all because of this book.

  This damn book that he couldn’t write.

  And, of course, he wasn’t writing it like he should be right then because of her.

  Fall.

  Autumn.

  Her.

  He couldn’t concentrate when she was so close. He could still scent the lotion on her skin; still feel the heat of her even though he hadn’t touched her. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, wanted to know if her lips would plump as he sucked on them, maybe even nibbled. He wanted to know the color of her nipples, if she had dimples on her lower back where her ass started to curve into that luscious shape.