“OK, I’ll tell her to come by your house then. I have a feeling you’re really gonna be impressed by the woman’s she’s become.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
We said our goodbyes and I slipped my phone into my pocket, my eyes still locked on the woman’s. Picking up girls had always been second nature to me, and it didn’t hurt that I had plenty of money. Most people knew the name Craig Johannsson, and sometimes my rep did all the work for me.
I gave the girl a nod, beckoning her in my direction. With another smile she complied, sauntering over like she’d already decided she’d do anything it’d take to be on my cock by the end of the night.
“Evening, stranger,” she purred, her voice as sexy as the rest of her.
“Evening. Why don’t you sit that gorgeous ass down right here and tell me your name?”
She laughed. I loved to be forward with women like that, and they liked it too. Like I said, I didn’t like screwing around. If I was into a girl, she’d know about it.
“Name’s Sammy. And you’re Craig Johannsson.”
I grinned. This was going to be easier than I thought. “I sure am.” I leaned forward, getting right into her personal space. “And, Sammy, I wanna buy you a drink, maybe see what’s on under those clothes.”
She giggled. “I’d love a drink, and if you’re lucky, you’ll see what’s under these clothes.”
“Tonight’s gonna be fun,” I commented, emphasizing the word tonight. She seemed smart enough to know what I meant.
She watched my eyes for a second, then nodded. “Tonight will be fun,” she repeated with a smile.
I smirked again. This was going to be a fun night.
Chapter 4
Craig
The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the fucking construction work taking place in my head. And it was the full crew – bulldozers, jackhammers, hell, even some demolition. I’d gone a little too hard on the bourbon last night, and it was always fun when you could tell the second you were up that you’d be paying for it the next day.
The other thing I noticed was that I wasn’t in my bed. I rubbed my eyes and looked around, taking in the scene around me. Definitely a woman’s room – the flowers here and there, the nightstand covered in makeup, the pile of clothes in the corner.
Then it slowly started coming back to me. I remembered the girl from the bar last night…Amy? Jenny? Something with a “y” at the end. I remembered throwing back shot after shot, getting closer and closer to her at the bar. I remembered doing a little grinding to some Motley Crue, followed by some public making out.
And then I remembered going back to her car, where she didn’t even wait for me to put my seatbelt on before leaning over and giving me what had to be one of the best blow jobs of my life. She went the full nine, too – tongue, eye contact, service with a smile. But it’d been a tease for what she’d really wanted. And I’d been happy to give it to her.
Her apartment had only been a short drive away, and the moment the door to the place shut behind us it was on. Well, the sex was on – the clothes were most definitely off. I glanced to the other side of the bed and sure enough, there she was. Becky or Wendy or whatever was on her side, her red hair splayed out over the pillow, the covers draped over ample hips. The girl looked good, no fucking doubt about that.
But I had a little rule, one that I lived and died by. And it was simple: No mornings. I’d done enough one-nighters to know mornings were the worst fucking part. Mornings were when you were hungover, when you had to see what the woman looked like in the hard light of day. When women wanted to know what last night “meant.”.
Sure, there was usually more sex involved, but it was never worth the hassle. Nope, best thing to do was sneak out before they were awake. And that’s what I was fixing to do. No muss, no fuss.
I watched Katie or Mellie for a few moments, paying attention to the steady rise and fall of her chest, making sure she was still out. When I was convinced that was the case, I slowly rolled off the bed and put my feet onto the floor as quietly as I could. I’d snuck out plenty of times before, and I was a damned ninja when I wanted to be. Ignoring the pounding in my head, I took one step, then another, then another, picking up my clothes and making sure I had everything.
Then, right as I found my jeans among the mess, my keys slipped out of my pocket. I’d had my jeans near the makeup mirror, and, of course, the keys fell into the middle of a small collection of nail polish bottles or whatever the hell they were. The noise smashed the silence of the bedroom.
Great, I thought. Just fucking great.
Of course, it was enough to wake up whatever her name was. Over my shoulder, I heard a soft yawn, followed by the sound of shifting sheets.
“Hey, you.”
She was going to be all sleepy smiles, ready to lure me back to bed. I turned, cock hanging long and low and jeans in my hand. Just like I’d thought, she was all bedroom eyes.
“Hey…you.” That would’ve been a good time to use her name, if I’d remembered it.
She glanced down at the jeans in my hand, her expression falling slightly. “You getting dressed?”
No sense in beating around the bush. “Yep. Gotta get moving. Shit to do today.”
She reached forward and placed her palm on the spot where I’d been sleeping. “Come on back to bed. It’s Saturday. Might as well get a fun start to the weekend.” She glanced down at my cock, already half-hard. “And you look like you’ve got the same thing on your mind. Or he does.”
But I wasn’t about to be lured by this particular siren song. The longer I stayed, the more of a pain in the ass it would be to get the hell out of there. That was the other thing – you slip out in the morning and you send a clear-as-hell message. You stick around, they start getting ideas. And the “ideas” are about whether or not you’re going to make your one-night thing something more serious. That was the last thing I wanted.
“Nah, just some, uh, morning wood that hasn’t gone away quite yet.”
She kept on smiling. “Well, why don’t you bring it over here and I’ll put it to good use?”
Nope. I would have to be firm. And not in that kind of way. I stepped into my jeans and pulled them up over my legs. “Nah, need to get going. Shit to do,” I repeated.
“Shit to do? It’s a Saturday morning – what kind of shit do you have to do? Get your ass back into bed.” She was still doing the seductive act, but there was something more to it, a little more desperation.
“Sorry, gorgeous. But I need to get moving.” I spotted my shirt and swiped it up and threw it over my shoulders.
“Seriously?”
“Listen, honey, I thought it was clear this was a one-night thing.”
She frowned. “Well, yeah, but the next morning is kinda fun too.”
I sighed but offered her a smile. “Last night was fun but I’m not looking for anything more than that. I’m a busy man. It’s time to get moving.”
I buttoned my shirt and headed for my socks and boots. There was a heavy silence in the air, and I knew I needed to say something before this girl started with the waterworks. But I’d have been lying if I’d said that between the hangover and her attitude, I wasn’t getting mighty annoyed.
“Listen, Katie—”
“Sammy.” Her tone was cutting, ice-cold.
“Sammy. I had fun last night, but last night’s all it’s gonna be. Now, I need to get going.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead, not wanting to be a complete asshole. “It was great meeting you. Take care.”
Chapter 5
Cindy
As I made my way down the dusty road that led to Craig’s place, all I could think about was nervous wreck inside my stomach. It was crazy. I’d always been the type of girl to have a cool head about everything, never getting stressed. Sure, the last few months in New York had been trying, but I was never a nervous wreck or anything.
But going to Craig’s was different. After all, it was nothing m
ore than a little chat, me talking to him about maybe working at his place for a few months. Job interviews could be stressful, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t simple jitters about whether or not I’d be hired. There was something more that I couldn’t put my finger on.
It wasn’t long before I spotted Craig’s house in the distance. It was big – one of the biggest houses in the area. But it wasn’t exactly a mansion or anything ostentatious like that, more like a nice-sized ranch home, a bigger, slightly more modern version of Dad’s house.
A lot bigger, actually. The property was surrounded by fenced-in areas with all sorts of animals you’d expect to see on a major ranch. Cows and sheep and goats and, my favorite, horses. When I was a kid, I’d always dreamed of having a horse of my own, a beautiful creature I could ride and groom and take care of.
But it had never been in the budget. Dad always talked about it, and each birthday or Christmas I wondered if that would be the one he’d surprise me. Never happened, though. Not like I held it against him or anything. It would’ve been cool, though.
My car bumped and lurched over the uneven road as I came to a stop in front of Craig’s house. As soon as I killed the engine, I really became conscious of the nerves firing in my brain. The drive had distracted me but sitting in the silence made the anxiety much more real. It didn’t help that Craig’s three-story house loomed over me, larger than life, in the way he always had when I was a kid.
“OK,” I said, talking myself up. “It’s only a chat with a family friend. Nothing to be weird about.”
I glanced at the small briefcase I’d brought with me that contained my resume and college transcript. No idea what the interview would be like, but I always made sure I was prepared for anything.
Briefcase in hand, I stepped out of the car. The day was cold, the sun peeking through the clouds and brightening the world for a moment or two before vanishing again. I took advantage of the temporary sunlight to check myself in the reflection of the car window. I was wearing my usual interview outfit of fitted black slacks, a smart, white blouse, and a pair of heels. My dark hair was up in a sleek ponytail, and a tasteful amount of makeup was on my face.
A strange thought hit me as I looked myself over. I wondered if I might’ve dressed too conservatively. Not only for the likely casual nature of the interview, but because part of me wanted to look good for Craig.
What the hell is wrong with me? Sure, I might’ve had a little thing for him when I was a teenager, but I was a grown woman now. He was a friend of Dad’s, and a possible boss. Thoughts like that should’ve been the last thing on my mind. Besides, he’d been a good-looking dude before, but that was years ago. In New York people stayed on top of their appearances no matter what age, but in towns like this, once men and women hit forty or so, it was a downward decline into middle age. Craig was probably bald and had a big beer belly by this point.
After one last steeling breath, I headed up to the house. I looked around for a truck that might be Craig’s, assuming he’d drive some monstrosity for pulling trailers, but didn’t spot it. Only a slightly worn-down sedan parked off the side hinted that anyone was actually there.
Here goes nothing, I thought as I gave the door a quick rap. Moments passed without anyone coming or any sound of movement inside. Was it possible he’d forgotten?
After a minute or two of waiting, I knocked again. Again, more silence. The seconds ticked by, and I began to feel like I might’ve gotten stood up for a damn job interview. But just as I was certain it had been a mistake to come, I heard the quick footsteps of someone inside. I was confused – they sure as hell didn’t sound like Craig’s booming footfalls in the work boots I’d always remembered him wearing.
They approached the door and stopped. The sound of a lock clicking open was next. Then then door opened, revealing a cute-as-hell kid who couldn’t have been older than seven. He said nothing, regarding me with big, dark eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I said I word I realized just how much this kid looked like Craig.
Shit! I’d almost forgotten he had a kid. The little boy continued to regard me with curiosity as I scanned my brain to try and remember his name. Kyle!
“Is that Kyle?” I asked, squatting down enough to meet him at eye level.
“Who are you?” He was blunt, too. Showed he shared more than only his looks with his dad.
“Kyle, you know that’s not a polite way to greet someone at the door.”
I glanced up to see a youngish woman, pretty with shoulder-length blonde hair. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her feet bare. It was hard to tell how old she was, but I guessed a little bit older than me. She stepped to Kyle’s side and smiled at me.
“Sorry. Kid can be a little on the brusque side.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I was kind of shy when I was that age – I probably acted the same around strangers.” Then I turned back to Kyle. “But I’m not a stranger, am I? We’ve met before, don’t you remember? I’m Mr. Samuels’ daughter Cindy.”
I kept my voice chipper, but it didn’t seem to do any good. If he recognized me, which I doubted, he wasn’t showing it. After all, he’d been about two the last time I’d seen him.
“I know Mr. Samuels,” he finally said. “But I don’t remember you.”
“Kyle,” the woman scolded lightly. “Why don’t we be a little friendlier?” She turned her attention to me again. “Sorry, was there something I can help you with?”
I stood up. “I’m meeting with Craig – I mean, Mr. Johannsson-- for an interview.”
The woman’s eyes flashed with realization. “Oh, that’s right – he sent me a text late last night letting me know you’d be coming by. I forgot all about it. Come on in.”
She gestured for Kyle to step aside, which he did, and opened the door. I stepped in and took a look around. Really, the place wasn’t too dissimilar from my house – only a hell of a lot bigger. Tall ceilings, wood floors, and the occasional oriental rug made up the décor. But man, the place was huge. Three stories and who knew how many rooms. You could’ve stuck the New York apartment I shared with three other people in there and forgotten about it.
“I’m Amy,” the woman said as we walked through the house. “Kyle’s sitter.”
“Craig’s not around?”
“Friday’s his usual night for going out. And he likes to be out late, which tends to make for late mornings.” She checked her watch. “It’s a little before eleven. That’s what time you were supposed to meet, right?”
“Right.”
“Hm. Well, let me see if I can get in touch with him, see where he’s at. Meantime, let me get you some coffee.”
She tilted her head toward the far end of the hallway, and I followed her, Kyle tagging along. We soon arrived in a big kitchen, all modern and stainless steel. The room was damn different than Dad’s kitchen, which looked like it hadn’t been updated since the house was built in the sixties. Craig’s kitchen looked like something from a cooking show. The scent of coffee was in the air, the remnants of what looked to be a lunch of grilled cheese and soup on the counter.
“Have a seat,” Amy offered.
I did, pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen bar and dropping into it. I was still a little nervous, and the house was making the effect even more pronounced – it was a very intimidating place. While Dad had kept Mom’s touches around our house, it seemed like Craig had gone in the opposite direction, making his home a sleek bachelor pad. I knew he’d lost his wife a few years back, and it appeared his and Dad’s coping styles were a little different.
“How do you take yours?”
“Light cream and sugar.”
Amy nodded, and soon a steaming mug of coffee just how I liked it was placed in front of me.
“OK,” she said. “Let me go see what I can find out about Craig. You mind keeping Kyle company? Should only be a few minutes.”
I turned to Kyle. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.
”
For the first time since I’d seen him, he allowed himself a small smile. “Um, OK. Sure.”
“See?” Amy asked. “Fast friends.” With that, she was off and Kyle and I were alone.
“How do you know my dad?” he asked, folding his arms on the bar in front of him.
“He’s a good friend of my dad’s. And your dad and I go way, way back – heck, I knew him when I was just a little older than you.”
“And now you’re a grownup?”
“Something like that.”
“How come you don’t have a job?”
Damn, the kid was really going right for the sensitive spots. “Because I moved back here to live with my dad for a while.”
“From where?”
“New York.”
He looked a touch impressed. “That’s a really big city.”
“It sure is. Bigger than Pittsburgh times five. Have you ever been?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I want to go someday, but Dad says it’s too loud and noisy and dangerous for a kid.”
“He’s not wrong about that. Heck, it’s almost too loud and noisy and dangerous for a grownup. But I love it. Loved it.”
“How come you came back?” More right-to-the point talk. This kid was really the spitting image of his old man in more ways than one.
“Because I needed a little time to figure out what I wanted.” Not exactly right, but close enough. Didn’t really matter, since Kyle didn’t really seem all that interested.
“I wanna go to New York, and I wanna go to France.”
This was interesting. “You wanna go to France?”
He nodded. “I wanna go to Paris. I saw it in a movie once and it looked really cool. And I heard the food is really good.”
Mistoletoe Surprise: An Older Man Younger Woman Christmas Romance Page 3