Guilty as Charged

by Harlow James

  “Ugh. I would love a sub right now, but I’m trying to cut back on the carbs. My sister’s wedding is in a few months and I don’t want to be the fluffy bridesmaid.” She reaches into her lunch pail beside her desk and pulls out a clear Tupperware full of salad.

  I narrow my eyes at her and then put her in her place. “First of all, you are anything but fluffy. You are gorgeous and curvy and you should love your body. Second, I’m at least going to bring you back a cookie because life is too short to not give in to a little sugar fix once in a while.” I wink at her, grab my purse, and then head for my car, cruising to the Italian deli in Newberry that is always packed around lunch time.

  I find a parking spot in the back and make my way inside, the smell of fresh baked bread hitting me the moment I open the doors. Waiting in line makes my stomach lurch at the prospect of food, so as soon as I pay for my order, I run to my car and open the sandwich wrapping on my lap, diving in for that first bite like my sub might grow legs and walk away from me.

  “Oh my gawd,” I mumble around a mouthful of my lunch. I am by no means a vegetarian, but their no meat sub is full of my favorite things—fresh tomatoes, avocado, pepperoncini’s, olives, lettuce, bell peppers, and onion, and topped with a homemade vinaigrette that takes the sandwich to another level.

  As I sit in my seat and stuff my face, my eye catches on the gleam of sun hitting metal when a truck door closes abruptly to my right. My head follows the noise as I take in the Gibson Construction logo on the door—but that’s not the only thing that catches my eye.

  Striding toward the building I just came from with his crew members in tow is Javier Montes, decked out in worn blue jeans, an orange construction shirt that clings to his well-defined torso I’m quickly becoming a fan of, and a black bandana tied around his head, keeping the sweat from pouring into his eyes during this humid and hot Texas summer day. The skin exposed on his arms seems even darker than I remember, his tattoos flashing a pinch of danger in his presence. But his smile is carefree and given easily as the men joke with each other while making their way inside, showing me that the hard lines of his face and down turn of his lips I’ve grown accustomed to must be an expression he only saves for me.

  And then it hits me. Javier works for Gibson Construction? I thought he worked for Elite Gym? Maybe he does both? Holding down two physically exhausting jobs can’t be easy, and for a moment, I admire his work ethic until the rasp of his voice calling me Princess whispers in my ears and suddenly I’m irritated with him again.

  Wanting to see if I can catch him off guard, give him a little aggravation to ruin the lightheartedness he’s carrying around with him today especially after his less than welcome attitude last night, I decide to go inside Russo’s again and purchase a few more cookies. The office staff has been working hard and I think everyone deserves a treat.

  I check my teeth in the rearview mirror, fluff my hair for good measure, and then walk back toward the door, opening it and seeking him out without being too obvious. My legs are shaky and I momentarily consider leaving, but Javi and his two buddies found a table right near the register, giving them a perfect view of me as I walk straight to the cashier.

  “Sydney? Did you forget something?” Hattie, the teen girl behind the second register asks me, worry evident in her eyes.

  Out of my peripheral vision I see Javi’s head pop up but I don’t dare turn in that direction. I don’t want him to know that I see him, for him to read me in any way which would allude to the fact that the man has been in and out of my mind for the past eighteen hours and I’m here just to spite him.

  “Well, yes. I need to get a few more cookies, please. The office staff needs an extra pick-me-up today.” I wink at her as Javi shakes his head, momentarily pulling mine in his direction.

  “Oh, sure. All chocolate chip?” Hattie asks, drawing my attention back to her.

  “Yes, please. Just make it a dozen so there’s more than enough.” I flash her my poised smile and then hand her the money for my purchase.

  “Looks like you don’t know how to wait in lines, do you, Princess?” Javi’s words pull me back to him as I see his co-workers are now watching our interaction too, grins plastered on their faces.

  “Excuse me?”

  His arm flies out to the side, gesturing to the line of people still waiting for their sandwiches. “There’s people that are waiting for their turn, you know? What the rest of us are taught to do?”

  “The rest of you?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Those of us that haven’t been handed everything in our lives.”

  “Here are your cookies, Sydney,” Hattie says, breaking my stare down with Javi, which is probably best seeing as how my blood was boiling just looking at him. However, the space between my legs was heating up too, which makes no sense as he was acting like a complete jackass to me just now.

  “Thanks, hun.” I grab the bag and then turn back to Javi, taking the few steps over to the table where he’s seated. His eyes falter for a moment from mine, taking the opportunity to study me from head to toe. And in that moment, I’m so glad I wore my maroon pencil skirt that makes my ass look great and the sleeveless black blouse that pairs perfectly with it. My black heels give me a few extra inches and lengthen my legs too. I know I look good today, and I’m so glad I feel that way because it’s giving me an extra boost of confidence as I prepare to put this guy in his place.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but that second register is exactly for purchases like this one.” I hold up the bag. “If you’re not waiting for a sandwich to be made, you can go right over there.”

  “You think you need all of those cookies?” he says now, changing the subject, and then takes a large bite of his sandwich, chewing as he continues to watch me.

  “Why do you care? It’s not like that little class of yours is going to help me burn any of these off. I barely broke a sweat last night.”

  The two guys sitting next to him choke on their lunch, laughing through their mouths full of food.

  “Is that so?” he fires back.

  I keep the act going, loving how I can see him grow increasingly frustrated. “Yup. I was not impressed with your stamina at all.”

  “Fucking, A,” one of the guys spits out, wiping his mouth that is stretched into a pleased smile as he boils over in laughter.

  Javi’s jaw becomes tense, the only indication that I’m rattling him. “I was going easy on you, Princess. You have no idea what my true stamina is like.”

  I shrug and then turn to leave. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Have a good day, boys.” I wave, but then stop and do a Princess-style wave for good measure, loving how Javi’s eyes narrow but the grin on his face stretches wider before I turn around completely and exit the deli, pleased with showing him that I’m not some girl he thinks he can treat like dirt even though being that bold made me feel like I was about to throw up the little of bit of my lunch I was able to gobble down so far.

  But I’m a woman on a mission to be taken seriously in all aspects of my life, and somehow I feel like standing up to Javi a bit put me on the right path.

  Chapter 8

  Javier

  I’m having trouble pinpointing why I’m so anxious as I sit in the chair at the desk of the gym, waiting for my next class to start.

  At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. But deep down I think I know exactly what has my hackles raised and my chest tight.

  It’s knowing that any moment now Sydney Matthews is going to walk through those doors and make me want to punch something.

  After our little run-in at Russo’s yesterday, Cory and Trilch both gave me shit for the way the woman tried to put me in my place. And I’m not gonna lie—the confidence she portrayed and the words she spit back took me by surprise. Apparently Sydney has grown a bit of a backbone since I last saw her, and I can’t deny that watching her eyes light up with disdain for me didn’t give me a half-chub in my jeans.

  When we returned
to the site of the new houses being built in the Ashwood community, I fought to keep images of her out of my head—her long, dark hair, those pools of aqua in her eyes that reminded me of the ocean in the tropics, her long legs stuffed into closed toe heels that I would love nothing more than to see draped over my shoulders as I plowed into her…

  Obviously, my conscience sent me into a downward spiral as I realized I was fantasizing about the woman that I had engrained in my mind years ago to hate. I don’t know who she is now though, but if her little display at the deli was any indication, I’d say the woman still has an entitlement bone in her body and I can’t wait to see if I can bend it in place.

  The bell above the door rings and a few of the girls in the self-defense class walk in, giggling and waving to me before talking to themselves as they make their way over to the lockers to deposit their things. As I watch them walk away, a familiar voice catches me off guard as I jump up in the chair.

  “It’s not very professional to check out your clients, don’t you think?” Sydney’s vision is planted directly on me, along with a hand on her hip.

  “Are you jealous?” I ask, moving to stand and the difference in our height makes me tower over her. I’m just shy of six-feet, but without heels on Sydney has to be five-five.

  She scoffs. “Please. I’m just wondering if you’re going to be too busy drooling over those girls to actually give us a decent workout tonight.” There’s a fire in her eyes as they momentarily dip down to my mouth, my jaw ticking as I watch her.

  “Don’t worry, Princess. I made sure to incorporate plenty of moves to get you sweating tonight. I’m going to show you just how good my stamina can be.” I grin knowingly in her face and then walk off, taking a deep breath to bring my pulse down to normal as I open up the room and the girls start to file in.

  Even though the class is designed to teach the women how to deal with a person attacking them, it’s also a grueling workout. In order to possess the strength to fight your opponent, you must build those muscles, which in turn, builds confidence.

  So at Sydney’s request, I put the girls to work—lunges, push-ups, crunches, burpees, and laps around the mat. I focus on cardio while building in some strength training that will guarantee to leave them sore for a few days. And I do the workout right alongside them so Sydney has no choice but to eat her fucking words.

  As she rests on her knees and finishes her last round of push-ups, I kneel down in front of her, putting my face in line with hers.

  “Why, Miss Matthews? Is that sweat I see gracing your face?” I take great pleasure in knowing right now that she’s probably regretting her little dig she took at me yesterday.

  “About time,” she fires back and all I can do is chuckle as I stand and wait for the girls to finish.

  When they’re all winded and resting on the mat with their water bottles in their hands, I move to start the lesson. These women came here for a reason—to be able to feel confident enough to defend themselves physically in a situation that warrants that response. And even though some instances leave you vulnerable and unable to do so, like my sister’s, at least having the knowledge of how to react in those situations can offer women peace of mind. Defending yourself isn’t just about using physical means either, which is something we will explore bit by bit during each class.

  “Okay. So today, I’m going to show you a few moves that you can use if your attacker is coming at you from the front …” I stagger to my feet and get in position in front of Clay, one of the other coaches that helps me out with demonstrations.

  Sydney’s hand shoots up the air, and with how she’s sitting cross-legged on the mat, I feel like I’m transported back in time, staring at an elementary version of the girl in front of me. I try hard to conceal my laugh, feigning irritation instead.

  “What, Sydney?” I snap as she moves back in her posture, taken by surprise by my unwarranted reaction. I want the women to ask questions, but with the way this girl’s been acting around me, who knows what’s about to come out of her mouth.

  “When will we discuss what to do if they come at you from behind?”

  I let out a breath and then turn to answer her. “Next week. We usually start with front attacks because they’re easier and a lot of the moves can be adapted to that situation.”

  “Oh … okay, thanks.” She gets quiet and immediately withdraws, which piques my curiosity. But I shake it off quickly and resume the demonstration.

  I show the women how to use slight movements as simple as how to position their body when their attacker is moving toward them or when they have their hands on them. We even discuss simply using their voice as an intimidation tactic or their car keys as a weapon if the situation escalates quickly.

  After the hour is up, the girls prepare to leave, but I can’t help but feel like Sydney is lagging behind on purpose. She’s dawdling, staring at posters on the walls instead of exiting the room in a hasty fashion.

  “Did you need something else, Princess?” I ask from my hunched over position, retrieving my water bottle before I stand and take a long drag.

  She sighs and then walks over to me slowly, taking enough time that it gives me a moment to study the curves of her body, not that I hadn’t noticed those before. It took everything in me to avoid checking her out as she moved around during the workout, her shapely figure covered in black and lime green spandex today. The bounce of her breasts as she ran, the jiggle of her thighs as she jumped, the flex of her biceps as she performed her push-ups—every movement of hers caught me in some way, and it wasn’t one that I was anticipating.

  But when she looks up at me again beneath dark lashes and a mischievous grin spreads across her lips, my gut tells me that this woman might just make me want to go back to prison so I don’t have to deal with her entitled ass.

  “You may have made me sweat today, Javi. That I won’t deny. And I hope I showed you today that I’m serious about this class.” Her smile fades as her face grows serious, a total transformation from the playful thing she was five seconds ago. “But I’m not here to mess around, and the sooner you understand that I’m not leaving, the better things will be between us. I don’t know what it is that you have against me, but you need to take your preconceived notions about me and shove them up your ass.” As her chest begins to rise and fall with her heated breaths, the sight of her getting angry with me again is making blood rush south. “I’ll be back next week, and I’d appreciate if you treated me with the same respect and attitude you do the other girls.”

  With that, she spins on her heel and heads for the exit, never once looking back to watch me watch her walk away, contemplating what the hell just happened. Even though I didn’t know Sydney personally back in high school, if there’s anything the past week has taught me is that maybe there’s a fire inside of her that I never cared to notice. That or something happened to her to put it there.

  Whatever it is, the memory of her glaring up at me as she told me off becomes the image I channel that night in the shower. As soon as I recalled the turn of her lips, the silk of her skin, the intent in her voice, my dick grew painfully hard in an instant.

  I lathered up and stroked myself to thought of her, a notion that both intrigued and confused me at the same time. If you ever told me ten years ago that there would be a moment in my life where I found myself lusting after Sydney Matthews, I’d bet you that pigs would fly first. And yet here I am, a world away from the boy I was once, a man now with a record and intent to fly under the radar, avoid trouble and unnecessary distractions as I try to put my life back together, and yet I find myself face to face with a temptation that I never knew I could have.

  A woman that as much as I want to believe I know who she was and still is, is proving to me that she may be a world away from the girl she used to be too.

  As I pull and rub my dick, drawing on her lavender smell that would hit my nose as she walked past me in the deli, or the way her neck seemed longer with her hair pulled back off of it
, the onset of my orgasm begins to form. With each stroke, the vision of Sydney on her knees taking my cock all the way back in her throat has me gasping for air and yearning for release. The vision of her body bared for me to see—the good girl that might just be bad behind closed doors pulls on every temptation in my marrow and before I know it, I’m spilling my release all over the tile floor.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, resting one arm and my forehead on the shower wall as I bring my heart rate back to normal. But I don’t think that after jerking off to Sydney Matthews, my mind will ever be normal again.

  The next day, Cory, Trilch, and I head for the Ashwood community to work on one of the new builds. I do a damn good job of pushing Sydney from my mind, focusing on pounding nails, positioning boards, and getting the frame of the house ready for plywood sheets to prepare for stucco and brick work on the outside. We work in sync throughout the long, humid day, taking rests when needed. And as five o’clock approaches, a red convertible Mustang goes cruising past, stopping at the mail boxes down the road.

  I swear my eyes play tricks on me as the smooth legs of the driver appear underneath the open driver’s side door, but when she stands, I have no more doubts about the siren in front of me.

  Sydney Matthews places a key in one of the boxes, standing on her white heels in a red pencil skirt and white blouse with her hair pulled away from the front of her face.

  “Damn, güey.” Trilch comes up beside me as Cory joins and we all enjoy the vision in front of us. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a lady as fine as that.”

  “Isn’t that the girl we saw at Russo’s?” Cory asks, turning to garner my reaction.

  “Looks like it.”

  “You hittin’ that?” Trilch inquires.

  I scoff sarcastically and then turn back around as not to draw attention to how much seeing her is rattling my resolve. “Fuck, no. That woman is a nuisance.”

  “Ay. But you know her, right?”