Free Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) by Lindi Peterson Page A

coffee. Just as he finishes sipping he misjudges his route, and his left leg slams into the desk, spilling the coffee down the front of his white shirt. He leans his body forward, the liquid missing his slacks.
    “That’s hot.” He sets his coffee on his desk and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I don’t do anything but stare at his chest as his shirt flies open.
    Oh, my.
    He untucks it as he walks out of his office, and I am the recipient of six-pack abs.
    Talk about face flushing.
    I guess this job does have its perks.
     
     
    THE DAY GOES BY quickly. It takes me quite a while to organize the box of papers, but I do, laying out piles on top of Court’s desk. I love how his scent invades this room, and when I move his chair, or fan some papers, I’m reminded of him.
    I find more papers of the girls’ schoolwork than actual homeschooling information. There are attendance records that don’t seem to be filled out correctly, or if they are, the girls didn’t get much schooling. There’s also a lot of North Carolina information which won’t help me at all.
    What Florida contact information I find is a couple of years old, but it gives me a place to start. It seems there is a co-op that I can contact and see where to go from there.
    Another discovery that I make is that Bristol and Darling have an aptitude for art. Well, I’m assuming it’s both of them. There are no names on the artwork, but a lot of the pictures are done twice.
    It’s interesting, this box. As much as Court’s scent invades this room, I catch a fresh, sunny, flowery scent every now and then on the papers.
    Vague memories of seeing MaryLeigh with Court on the television when I did have the unfortunate timing of being at home when a race was on, try to make their way into my mind. Visions of blondness and sunglasses are about all I can recall.
    Deciding I need to start scanning the documents, I try to download the printer drivers on my computer. One frustrated hour later, after a slow internet connection and being unable to locate the software in any of the drawers, I shove my jump drive into Court’s computer.
    I don’t like working from someone else’s computer, but unless I want to keep digging in this box, this is my best bet.
    Mrs. Stratton comes in the office. “Would you like me to make you dinner?”
    I look at my watch. Six-thirty. “No. That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
    “There are plenty of items to make a salad. Several different salad dressings in the refrigerator.”
    “Okay. Thanks. That sounds perfect. Have a good evening.”
    “Same to you. Are you almost done?”
    “Getting there. I have a few more items to scan.” I wave my hand over the many stacks still sitting on Court’s desk.
    “Should have been done long ago, in my opinion. But the Mrs. could do no wrong. In anybody’s eyes. Not speaking ill of the dead, mind you, but facts are facts. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    With those parting words, she shuts the door.
    The sound of the feeder jamming brings me back to reality.
    I unjam the feeder, and restart the batch of papers.
    The stack is rather large, and when it appears they will go through without jamming, I sit back at Court’s desk. He only has a couple of folders on his desktop, unlike mine which is littered with documents and folders.
    A cute picture of Bristol and Darling is his screensaver. As each batch finishes scanning, I hit the display button and name the file, then store it to the jump drive.
    A pretty monotonous project.
    Quite boring actually.
    Until I accidentally hit the wrong drop down box and find myself in Court’s documents folder.
    There aren’t too many documents. A lot less than I would expect from a business owner like Court. Unable to stop my curiosity, I scan the titles.
    One catches my eye.
    TAG Investigation.
    What kind of investigation?
    Is Court’s company investigating someone or something?
    Is somebody investigating Court’s company?
    My wandering mind is once again interrupted