“For the ninth time, yes we do.” She gestures around the small shop, pointing at our crimson walls.
“I painted last year.”
A mischievous little smirk appears on her full lips, making me think it turns her on to piss me off. “I appreciate that. And while I love the red”—she saunters up to the trash can and plucks the paint samples out of the abyss—“blue is the best color for a small business. Especially one where people already think you’re trying to rip them off.”
“Says who?”
“About a million marketing experts and the few thousand psychologists they paid to figure it out.” She puckers those rosy lips and blows this morning’s coffee grounds off her multi-colored swatches. My dick twitches despite my frustration. Every damn thing this woman does gets under my skin.
“Blue promotes calm, stability and trust.”
“And red?” I can’t keep myself from asking.
“You picked it, didn’t you?” I nod and she nibbles at her bottom lip. “Red means passion, urgency. Hunger,” she says on a ragged breath.
I grab a clipboard off the wall and look over today’s schedule. She giggles from right behind me.
Her phone buzzes for the millionth time today. She lets out a sad sigh, types something out and tucks it back into her pocket. The damn thing is always going off and it never seems to do anything but drive her nuts. I’d tell her to just turn the damn thing off it were any of my business. But it’s not. She can torture herself all she wants.
I’m pretending to scan the list of appointments in front of me when her accusing voice asks, “Why are you still using a handwritten schedule? I’ve already input all the appointments into the new computer system.”
The overpriced thing she talked Rob into buying was set up a few days ago, but I refuse to touch it. I don’t need it. Don’t want it.
“Because I trust my schedule more than some system. Despite it not being blue.”
My skin prickles when she puts a hand on my forearm. My sleeves are pushed up to my elbows, like always, and the skin-to-skin touch distracts me long enough for her to pluck the clipboard out of my hands. She’s running a finger down the list and walking backward.
I groan and chase after her. Without looking up, she sidesteps and dodges my searching hands. We dance around the small shop, me lumbering after her and her gliding just out of reach like a seasoned boxer. Fuck, she’s slippery.
Every time she evades my clutches, the corners of her lips curve up. Her gaze snaps to the bays, searching behind me where everyone is busy working. And I’m in here playing keep-away with a co-ed. I manage to corner her, but she slides the clipboard behind her back. She let me catch her. I reach around her and grab her wrist. I’m forceful, but she resists. She’s deceptively strong and all I manage to do is pull her body against mine.
She runs hot and her skin burns into mine through our clothes. My head tells me to step back, but I am too stubborn to let her win this little game. I peer down at her. I’ve made men piss their pants with this look, but Jessie just smiles up at me, happy as a pig in shit.
“You know why that’s funny?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Why?” I ask, my voice huskier than I’d like.
In one swift motion she shoves the clipboard into my chest and steps back. “Your schedule is wrong.”
I’m searching the list, checking it against the cars out in the service bays. Jessie skips—fucking skips—over to the counter, clicks a couple of buttons on the computer and prints out a new schedule.
She slaps the paper down in front of me, pointing to the yellow highlighted Buick that isn’t on my schedule.
“The guy with the F-150 canceled, so an internet appointment was slated in its place about an hour ago. Better keep up, Big Man.”
I toss the clipboard down on the counter and retreat to the office. I sit down in my ancient office chair and start poring over yesterday’s invoices. Her system is supposed to handle all the invoices and inventory too, but for now I was able to convince Rob to keep up the paper system that’s always worked. She can try her experiment, and when it fails and she leaves, I’ll still keep us going.
Jessie props that perfect ass against the desk beside me, her hip brushing against my forearm. I don’t move. Don’t react. I’m not giving in to her. She’s done pushing my buttons.
She waves the paint swatches in front of my face. “I’m thinking I can take Mikey to pick up the paint with me tomorrow afternoon and we can paint after we close. It’s a small enough space. It should only take a few hours.”
I give her a low hum in acceptance. She swings away, tucks the samples into her back pocket and saunters out of the door.
“Change is good, Big Man. You’re gonna like it. I promise,” she sings from the front of the shop. Doorbells jingle and I let out a deep sigh, knowing she’s gone.
I drag a hand down my face and let out a low laugh. No, JB. I’m not going to like it. Being around you is torture.
Chapter Nine
Devin
“How ’bout you dial it back a notch,” Austin complains, shaking out his padding-coated hand.
I don’t listen as I pummel the focus mitts he holds up in front of me, my glove hitting with a satisfying thwack. I’ve got too much pent-up energy to take it easy on him. He makes it another five minutes before he bows out. I transition to the heavy bag, and Austin slides in behind the bag and holds it steady.
“What’s got you so worked up, Big Man?” He uses Jessie’s stupid nickname and laughs. The fucker laughs. I hit the bag hard enough to knock him back a few steps. “She’s getting under your skin, huh?”
He’s got that stupid smirk on his face. I fantasize about punching his teeth out. Maybe hitting my best friend will release some of this tension, because destroying this damn punching bag isn’t doing shit.
I pull off the gloves and let out a long groan. “This is your fault, asshole.”
“Oh no, I can’t take credit for you being so damn irresistible.” He licks his lips and eye-fucks me like a depraved pervert. “You know you’re delicious man candy.”
He’s impossible sometimes. Everything is a joke to Austin, including my torture at the hands of a sexy, sadistic co-ed. I shove the gloves into my bag and head towards the door.
“Hey, wait up.” Austin chases after me. We walk next to each other silently, until we make it to my car. I toss the gym bag into my passenger seat and slam the door closed.
Austin runs his hands through his golden locks and gets serious for half a second. “Dude, I kept my mouth shut. It was Elizabeth. She seems to think you and Jessie would be good together.”
I like Elizabeth. She’s good for him. The weird little geek keeps him focused on not fucking up his life. He needs that—a purpose. I don’t. I know who I am and I’ve got everything I need. Elizabeth playing matchmaker and wreaking havoc on my life pisses me off.
“If you could keep your girlfriend out of my business, that’d be fucking fantastic.”
“That woman knows a thing or two about how to love. Plus, she’s smarter than both of us combined. Maybe she has a point.” He laughs. In only a few months, he went from serial player to lovestruck dipshit. It’s obvious he’s totally gone, beyond in love with her. “Besides, the damage seems like it’s already been done.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“It can’t be that bad. Having something a little nicer to look at than greasy dudes. Or is that your thing?” Austin winks.
“Fuck off.” I wipe my hand down my face, trying to erase the image of Jessie’s bright smile. “You have no idea. She’s everywhere, man. Getting into everything.”
“And you want to get into her?” Austin deadpans.
I ignore him and walk around the hood to the driver’s-side door. Austin follows after me, laughing lightly.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You walked into that one.” He grabs my door so I can’t slam it in his face. “So, why don’t you? We both know you’ve w
anted her since that party.”
“She’s not my style.”
Austin cocks his head to the side and stares at me. The shape of Jessie’s curves flash through my mind again and I know I’m full of shit. She’s gorgeous. She’s every man’s style. That’s the problem. A girl like that has options. A future. Somewhere far away from my dirty little auto shop. Any fun we might have isn’t going to beyond a few months. I’m sure the fireworks would be spectacular right until they burn my life to ash. The drama ain’t worth it. I like steady. Reliable.
“It’s not going to hurt anything to have a little fun for once, Dev.” Austin lets go of the door and slaps the hood of my car. “Who knows, you might like it.”
I rev the engine as I drive off. Fuck Austin. Fuck Jessie. Fuck everyone trying to tell me what I’m going to like.
I lock myself in my office after the gym and charge through the day, forgetting Austin and all the rest of it. The door jingles and the sound of Jessie’s light laugh fills the shop. It’s an amazing sound, like pure unadulterated happiness. Like nothing in life could ever touch her. It grates on my nerves for reasons I’m not willing to admit. I walk to the office doorway and take in the sight of Mikey making goofball faces at Jessie, who’s doubled over in laughter.
“I swear, he blew up like a marshmallow over the fire!” He sets down the large paint cans he’s holding and floats around the shop like he’s a balloon in the Macy’s day parade, arms wide and cheeks puffed out. He catches me staring. Straightening up, he clears his throat and looks sheepishly back at Jessie. “Hey, Dev. I was just telling Jessie about that time Sean forgot he was allergic to shellfish.”
“How does someone forget they’re allergic to something?” She giggles, setting down two large bags full of what looks like painting supplies. She turns to face me, tracing her gaze up my body, her eyes sparkling with delight when they meet mine.
I’m snarling and she’s smiling. This woman doesn’t intimidate easily. She’d laugh in Death’s face.
“That’s Sean for you,” Mikey adds. I glare at him and he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I’ll just go see if anyone needs help cleaning up.” He slips out to the service bays, leaving me alone with Jessie.
“Have fun?” I bark out.
She looks over at where Mikey’s stealing glances at her. “Sure. He’s sweet.”
It bothers me even though I know it shouldn’t. She can flirt with whoever the hell she wants. I stalk up to her, encroaching on her personal space. She doesn’t budge. She straightens up and pulls her shoulders back.
“Can I help you with something, Big Man?” she asks, staring up at me,
I nod down to the bags.
“I got a handful of brushes, some drop cloths and some painter’s tape. Just the basics.”
I grunt in approval, focused more on the heat radiating off her body and the vanilla smell of her than her words. Her hair is up in the same ponytail as always, but a wisp has slipped out. I want to roll the strands between my fingers, feel their softness under my fingertips as I lift them to my nose and take a deep inhale.
She’s off in a flash, buzzing around the room, rambling about all the prep work she’s going to get done before we close in twenty minutes. I watch her scurry around and hum. She’s got nervous energy to burn. Maybe I should have taken her to the gym instead of Austin this morning.
I slip into the office and let the Jessie tornado tear through the shop. By the time I come out half an hour later, she’s got everything off the walls and all the furniture pushed into the middle of the space, covered in a drop cloth. She’s up on a ladder, laser focused on painting a straight line along our ceiling. Mikey’s underneath her, laser focused on her exposed thighs.
“How’s it look?” she calls down to him.
“Great,” he coos.
Fuck this.
In three large steps I’m across the shop, gripping Mikey’s shoulder and squeezing hard. He backs away, arms raised in surrender. He grabs his jacket off the pile in the middle of the room and heads for the door without turning his back on me.
“Hey, where are you going?” Jessie asks when she hears the door chime.
“Sorry, Jess, I gotta head out. Forgot I’ve g-got some p-plans for dinner,” he stammers. Mikey’s always been a bit of a pussy.
She looks down at me, her eyebrows pinched together. “What was that about?”
I don’t answer. My eyes are locked on the skirt tucked under her as she sits on the top rung of the ladder. It’s riding high on her thigh, showing off those legs that seem to go on forever. I don’t bother answering her. Instead, I grip her waist and pull her down, keeping my eyes focused on the floor beneath us until her feet come into view. Her shirt slips up and my right hand slides against her silky skin. I’m staring at it, the spot where my skin is melting into hers.
“Hey!” she shouts.
The paintbrush in her hand tickles my cheek and she presses into my chest. I tighten my grip on her waist and my fingers ache to slip farther under her shirt. She looks up at me and our eyes lock. My heart skids to a stop in my chest. Her eyes are so green, turbulent like the ocean during a storm.
“Hey,” she murmurs in my arms. I’m leaning down, giving in to whatever draw she has on me. I brush my nose against her hair and take a deep breath, inhaling her sweetness. She moans in my ear. Her eyes flutter shut and her mouth falls open the smallest bit. I lick my lips, hovering just above hers. I’m desperate to know if all of her tastes as sweet as she smells.
The shop phone rings and I snap back to reality. I shove her away, turning and striding into the office as fast as I can without looking like I’m running.
“Hey!” she shouts at my retreating back. Those three letters manage to carry an unnerving amount of anger and frustration. She follows me and slams the office door behind her even though we’re the only ones here.
“East Side Auto?” I say into the receiver. A guy’s voice rambles into my ear, but I can’t comprehend his words.
“Hey,” she shouts again from across the small space. I hold up a finger and point to the phone. “Oh hell no. I don’t care if that is the Pope! Hang up the damn phone and get back over here.”
I lean on the edge of the desk. “Uh huh,” I say to the guy, who’s mimicking the high-pitched squealing sound of what I’m guessing is a loose fan belt.
Jessie rips the phone out of my hand. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.” She slams the phone down and grabs my shirt. My knuckles go white when I grip the edge of the desk to keep myself from touching her. I could take her right here, in this office. A quick swipe to send invoices and shit tumbling to the floor and I could prop that sexy ass on the desk and…fuck.
“You scared off my help,” she accuses, her voice hoarse and her chest heaving.
“He scares easy.”
“Listen to me, Devin Bennett. I already have three overly protective brothers. I. Do. Not. Need. A. Fourth.” She steps between my spread thighs, pressing her chest against mine. “Now, if you want to talk about becoming my jealous boyfriend—”
“Not happening.”
She releases my shirt and pats my chest. She spins around, whipping me in the face with that damn ponytail. My dick stirs. Now hairplay is my fetish?
She’s halfway to the door. “Then you’ll just have to get used to anyone looking at me however and whenever they want.”
“Don’t wear skirts on ladders,” I command.
She pauses in front of the door with her back to me, bends forward a few inches, lifts up her skirt and flashes me her bright red panties. Turning, she rests her chin on her shoulder with a sinister grin.
“I’m wearing boy shorts,” she says as if that makes a difference. She drops her skirt, but it’s too late. The vision of her perfect ass in those red panties is burned into my memory forever.
I cross the room and slam the door shut when she tries to open it. I press my body against hers and cage her in.
Her voice cracks. “It’s killin
g you, isn’t it? Losing control.”
“My shop. My rules.”
“My body. My rules.” She shifts her hips against me. I wrap an arm around her waist and hold her there. “You’ve made it quite clear that my business is none of your business.”
“What will it take to make you behave?”
“Date me,” she answers, triumph in her voice.
“No,” I growl.
“Yes,” she moans.
I drop my forehead to her shoulder and fill my senses with her. She’ll consume every inch of me. “One date.”
“Three,” she counters.
“Two.”
“Three. Final offer, or next time I’ll go commando.” Her voice is sultry. Her tight ass pressed against me makes it impossible to hide how hard I am.
“Three.” My voice is the angry low rumble of an eight-cylinder diesel.
She twirls in my arms like the tornado she is, a bright smile on her beautiful, innocent face. She kisses me on the cheek, shoves me back and slips out of the door.
“Good. Now, get out here and help me paint.”
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter Ten
Devin
I take a long pull on my beer and try to figure out how the hell I got here. I look at my hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle. They’re rough, callused and stained with black grime. I spent thirty minutes scrubbing my fingernails, using half a damn bottle of orange degreaser. My fingers are raw and there’s still a coat of dirt that just won’t go away. I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. Jessie wants this. She thinks she wants me. She doesn’t even know me. She will by the end of the night.
For our first ‘date’ I told her to meet me at a nasty dive bar. It’s dark and dank, smelling like old sweat and fresh bodily fluids. My boots stick to the floor from what I’m hoping is spilled beer. Little Miss Sunshine is going to have a rude awakening tonight.
I’m sitting at the far end of the L-shaped bar, facing the door. I spot her the second she walks in. She’s drop-dead gorgeous. Sexy heels, tight black pants, flowing top that skirts the swell of her breasts. My dick stirs in my pants and I let out a possessive growl. She should not be dressed like that here. A dozen sets of sleazy eyes peruse her figure as she stands in the doorway. She bites her lip, searching the room for me. I raise my hand, but she doesn’t see me tucked in the corner.
This is So Happening (So Far, So Good Book 2) Page 6