by Lacey Black
Malcolm is there, holding the door open. “I’ll see you soon.”
I slip past him, catching that now-familiar woodsy scent of his cologne as I go, and hightail it to my car, needing to get as far away from Malcolm’s potent gaze and intoxicating scent. I need to put him far out of my mind. He’s a job, a client. Plus, he has a reputation for being a playboy, and I have no time or energy for one of those in my life.
Pulling out of his driveway, I can’t help but take a look around. This is the type of place I’d love to raise Trace, but right now, that’s not in the cards. I used my inheritance from my grandmother to start my business. Part of what attracted me to the laundromat, besides the income it provided, was the apartment upstairs. My sister Laken did the same thing, and it was such a solid investment. I followed suit.
My ideal job wasn’t exactly owning and operating a laundromat. In fact, I actually have a bachelor’s degree in accounting from Washington State. I excelled in math all through school and thought a career with numbers was my ticket to financial success. Turns out, I hated it.
I was hired directly out of college to work at a small firm in the city I was living in, and it was horrible. I stuck it out for a few years, at the advice of my mom, especially since I was pregnant at twenty-three. With a baby on the way and a boyfriend who traveled for his job, I needed steady employment. So I stayed, hating my job, until the day I left Washington and returned home to Montana.
Now I’m the proud owner of an aging laundromat, who spends her weekend cleaning a cheap disposable diaper out of a washing machine. Did you know they swell up and explode all over the place when put in the spin cycle?
This is the life, isn’t it?
Sighing, I head to my next appointment, an old man who cooks bacon three times a day and tries to give me a smooshed Tootsie Roll from his pocket when I leave. At least I get to look forward to spending twenty minutes scrubbing splattered grease off the range, the counter, and the walls. Hell, it’ll even be all over the floor, especially knowing he likely stepped in it and dragged it all over the faded linoleum.
Yes, this is the life.
My life.
And I’m loving every second of it.
Chapter 5
Malcolm
I work quickly through the day, anxious to go home. I’ve never been one to speed through my job, but here I am, driving home after work to meet Lenora. It’s just before six, which gives me time for a short run and shower before she arrives.
My feet pound the pavement as I head out of town. There’s plenty of light to be seen on the country roads, and it gets me away from the insistent waves and flirty smiles I usually receive on my in-town route. I can feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I ignore it. I already know who it is. She’s been texting all day, hoping to drop by for a visit. The problem is Jessa is well aware of my meeting schedule, and even though I told her I had a prior obligation tonight, she’s relentless.
My run takes just over forty minutes, and by the time I return to my house, I know it’s getting close to seeing Lenora. Leni. She looks like a Leni, cute and with a hint of a shy personality. However, there’s an added danger value I’m attracted to when I use her full name. She’s not a fan of her full name, but there’s no denying the way her eyes dilate and her breath hitches when I use it.
It’s sexy as hell.
The shower I take is on the faster side, but I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to be standing here naked when she arrives. Reality of that prospect doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, it excites me. A little too much, if you know what I mean. The truth is, I want to be ready and waiting downstairs when she arrives. To help her with anything she may need to carry in.
I’m a gentleman like that.
Lenora pulls in at almost seven on the dot and starts unloading a plastic tote and a carrying bag with supplies. I meet her on the sidewalk and reach for the handle of the rolling tote. “I can get it,” she states, giving me a small smile as she walks by.
My eyes are immediately drawn down to her ass in black yoga capris. An ass that’s like the whipped cream on my hot fudge sundae it’s that fucking fabulous.
She steps through the open door, carefully lifting the plastic tote over the threshold, and never once asks for help. All I can do is stand there and watch, completely drawn to her drive, her tenacity, and her spunk, as well as her ass.
“Before I begin, is there anywhere you don’t want me to go? Any room I shouldn’t clean?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Like?”
She shrugs, pulling out her supplies and arranging them on the kitchen floor. “An office? Bedroom? Den? Possible sex cave with questionable items mounted to the walls?”
My eyes must bug out of my head. “A what? You’ve had a client with that?”
She meets my gaze and chuckles. “Well, no, not me, but someone recently in one of the chatrooms I belong to had that happen. She walked into something right out of that Fifty Shades of Grey movie.” Lenora stands up, a microfiber cloth and spray bottle in her hands. “The worst I’ve ever found is a few dirty movies and what I assume was a very large butt plug.” She shrugs her shoulders, as if it’s no big deal, and heads for the staircase. “Mind if I start upstairs?”
I stand there in stunned silence, waving off her question. I focus on the sound of her tennis shoes walking up the hardwood steps and try to wrap my head around what she just said. Just before she reaches the second floor, I can’t help but ask, “Who?”
Her bubble of laughter filters down to where I stand. “Not telling.”
Then, she’s gone, getting to work cleaning my upstairs. Is it wrong that a part of me hopes she’s walking into my bedroom right now?
I stay in my kitchen for about fifteen minutes, drinking water and scanning some documents from work, but my mind is elsewhere. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, I swipe my water bottle off the table and move toward the stairs. When I reach the second story, I find Lenora in my guest room. “How’s it going?” I ask, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Oh,” she startles, turning to face me. “Well. I’ve got the two bathrooms done and just starting on this room.” She turns back around and finishes dusting the nightstand before moving to the dresser.
“How long does it take? To clean?”
She looks around for a second. “A house this size? Two hours for a basic clean, three to four for the deeper one.”
I nod, watching her work. It probably stated that on the information sheet she presented me, but I didn’t really look at it. “That’s a pretty late evening,” I observe, my eyes following her movements around the guest room.
She shrugs but keeps working. “It can be. That’s why I try to stick with only three nights, sometimes four.”
“What about your son?” I finally ask, finding myself wildly curious about the little boy with dark brown hair and the same hazel eyes as his mother.
Lenora meets my gaze once more. “He’s with my sister tonight having a sleepover with Grayson’s twins.” She goes about her business.
I don’t know why, but that makes me feel a little better about keeping her away so late on a random Thursday. Yet, I can’t stop this really foreign emotion that keeps niggling at me.
Guilt.
“What’s his name?” I ask, genuinely interested in more details about her personal life.
She stops her cleaning, giving me her full attention again. “Trace. His name is Trace.”
I nod, thinking about the little guy strapped into the back seat of Lenora’s car and his wide, curious eyes as he hollered at his mom. Why the hell am I thinking so much about Lenora and Trace? I have no clue, but it’s oddly…settling, when I usually find it unsettling. I push off the doorframe. “Well, I should let you get back to it. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I turn and hightail it from the room, desperately seeking a little solitude. When I reach my office, I go to close the door, only to realize I want to be able to hear her moving around the
house. I tell myself it’s because she’s working and new to my home, so she might have questions.
But even I’m not buying that load of crap.
The truth is, I like having her here.
As unnerving as that realization is, I roll with it.
For now.
After spending time in my office and getting absolutely nothing done, I made my way to the kitchen and read a newspaper on my tablet. My stomach growls, but to be honest, I’ve never seen the kitchen shine as much as it does right now, and the last thing I want to do is get breadcrumbs all over the place while making a sandwich.
At almost exactly nine, Lenora comes around the corner carrying her supplies and a beaming smile full of pride. “All done.”
“This place looks amazing,” I tell her, setting my tablet aside and rising from the table.
She secures all of her product in the plastic tote. “Thanks. You know, your home is fairly clean already. You could probably get away with an every other week schedule,” she states as she finishes packing.
If it were any other woman, I might take her up on the offer, but not now. Not when I look forward to having her here as much as I do, especially since I rarely allow ladies I entertain into my space. I’m more of a go to their place kind of man. Much easier to make my exit that way.
“I think I prefer weekly, at least for now,” I tell her, trying to act all casual and like the thought of not seeing her every week isn’t a little dreadful.
She shrugs as she throws her bag over her shoulder and grabs the handle of her tote on wheels. “Okay, suit yourself. If you ever want to change it, just let me know. Same time next week?”
“If that works for you,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
She smiles, making my heart do this weird skipping motion in my chest. “I’ll see you next Thursday.” I swear a blush creeps up her neck as she diverts her eyes.
“I look forward to it,” I confirm, knowing I one-hundred-percent do. The only problem is that’s a whole week away, and that won’t do. I’m going to need to see her before then.
Following her out of the kitchen, I slip around her to open the door. She bobbles the tote as she pulls it over the threshold, the plastic container on wheels dropping awkwardly onto the concrete porch.
“Hey, listen, do you want to grab a bite to eat?”
She stops, turning wide hazel eyes my way. “What?”
“Well, it’s getting late, and I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’m assuming you haven’t either, since you’ve had a couple of jobs tonight. There’s not a whole lot left open this time of night, but we could probably still grab a pizza from Sauce It Up or some nachos from the bar.”
I seem to have stunned her by my invitation, and I have to be honest, it’s a little unnerving. Most women jump instantly, practically throwing their panties at me before we figure out where we’re going. But not Lenora. She seems nervous, shocked, and slightly confused by my offer, and frankly, it’s cute as hell.
Lenora glances down at her capri leggings and T-shirt with Squeaky Clean printed across the chest. “Oh, uh, thank you for the offer, but I’m not exactly dressed for dinner. I’ll just grab something at home,” she reasons, pulling her supplies toward her car once more.
“You look great,” I insist. Better than great, actually, but I don’t want to scare her off with talk about how amazing her ass looks in those tight leggings or how I want to peel that shirt off her body with my teeth. I’ll just keep those little fantasies to myself.
For now.
“Really, but if you’re concerned, we can go to Pony Up. They have the best nachos in the entire state of Montana.”
She stops at the trunk of her car, looks my way, and arches and eyebrow. “You’ve had the nachos from there?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
She seems shocked I’d eat bar food on a random Thursday night, when the truth is I’d rather eat there than at the fanciest of restaurants. I choose steakhouses or Italian places because it’s usually what my date expects, and truthfully, the food doesn’t really matter much to me. It’s what happens after the meal that I look forward to the most.
However, that’s not on my agenda tonight.
Oh, I’ve thought about it.
A lot.
But it’s not the reason I’ve asked Leni to join me for a meal. She’s been working all damn day, busting her ass to support herself and her son, and surely, she’s tired. Trace is with his aunt for the night, which means she’s got a little free time to enjoy a quiet dinner, where she doesn’t have to worry about anyone but herself.
Well, as quiet as you can get at Pony Up.
“Umm,” she hems and haws, probably trying to come up with a good excuse to decline.
But I won’t let her.
“Just a quick dinner and maybe a beer. You did such an amazing job in the kitchen, I can’t stand the thought of getting it dirty yet. You can drive yourself and head home right after. I promise, I won’t try anything,” I say, leaning in and adding, “unless you want me to.”
I throw her a wink and smirk just for good measure.
She laughs nervously before reaching down and lifting the tote into the trunk of her car. As she sets the bag inside, she glances my way and says, “I haven’t had their cheeseburger in forever. It does sound good.”
I mentally throw my fists up into the air. “Great. Let me go inside and lock up, and I’ll meet you there.”
She glances down at her appearance once more. “If you’re sure,” she mutters, not appearing as confident and excited as I am.
“Definitely. Be right back.”
I fly inside and grab my keys and wallet off the counter, double-check the back sliding glass door, and secure the front door on my way. After entering the code into the keypad beside the garage door, I jump into my car as soon as the door is up. Fortunately, Lenora is just now backing out of the driveway, so I have plenty of time to catch up to her and make sure she doesn’t change her mind.
I pray she doesn’t, because I don’t remember the last time I was this excited to go to Pony Up, nor can I ignore the reason why.
Chapter 6
Leni
What am I doing?
I should be heading home for the night, enjoy getting a full night’s sleep and not having to wake up at five in the morning because that’s what time Trace thinks the good cartoons come on. Instead, I’m pulling into the parking lot near Pony Up and parking in the first available space.
To meet Malcolm.
Malcolm Wright.
The mayor.
Rumor has it he’s dated pretty much every single lady in the state of Montana, with no signs of settling down anytime soon.
He’s the last man I need to sit down and share a meal with.
A knock on my window startles me. I glance over to find Malcolm standing there, a sheepish grin on his face. Man, he’s handsome. I can see why every woman in town loses their mind when he grins. He’s charismatic and incredibly personable, which is probably why he was so easily elected mayor.
I open the door and grab my wristlet, meeting him at the side of my car. “Ready?” he asks, standing closely, but not so close it weirds you out or you feel the need to step back. Not like some of the bars I visited with friends back in Washington. I always felt like the single male patrons didn’t respect personal space after getting a few drinks in their system.
“Yes.”
He flashes me the full wattage of his smile as we slowly make our way to the bar. “You sure? You seemed a little uncertain back there.”
I nod. When we reach the door, Malcolm reaches for the handle and pulls the heavy wood. The sound of laughter and country music greets us, and like every time a door opens, everyone turns around to see who has entered.
That’s one of the things I didn’t miss about this small town.
Jack’s behind the bar and waves before filling another drink order for someone sitting at the bar.
“Malcolm!” someone of the female variety hollers from the bar, but I keep my gaze down, trying not to make eye contact.
I feel Malcolm’s warm hand press against my lower back, the heat searing my skin through my T-shirt. “How about that table?” he whispers just loud enough to hear above the noise.
“Okay.”
He guides me to the table and waits until I sit before taking the chair directly across from me. Just as we get situated, someone comes over to our table. I’ve seen her around town, but don’t know the waitress well. “Hey, Malcolm. Been a while since we’ve seen you in here,” Josie coos without even offering a glance in my direction.
“It has,” he replies. “We’d like to get some food, if you’ve still got the grill going.”
“Anything for you,” she gushes so sweetly, it makes my teeth ache.
I mentally roll my eyes, only to hear the man across from me chuckle. When I glance up, he’s smiling, his dark brown eyes dancing with delight. That’s also when I realize that eye roll may not have actually been mental.
Oh well.
“Lenora, what would you like to drink?” he asks, still grinning from ear to ear.
“Just an ice water, please,” I reply, glancing up at the woman drooling all over the man sitting across from me. She’s still not paying an ounce of attention to me.
“And you, Mr. Mayor?” The way she says it, all breathless and pleasurable, I’m positive she might have just had an orgasm.
“I’ll take a Miller Lite draft.”
“I’ll run and grab your drinks and then get your order,” she says, yet makes no move to leave our table.
Finally, when things take a turn toward awkward, the young server turns and moves toward the bar, her hips swinging dramatically as she goes.