by Chiah Wilder
“Are you following me?” she asked.
“I am. I like seeing how excited you are with the project.” If talking projected numbers and marketing ads stirred her up, he could only imagine how wild she’d be in bed.
As if reading his thoughts, she tapped the pointer against the easel’s wooden frame. “Keep your mind out of the gutter.”
“I can’t promise to do that when you’re around.” He laughed when pink began to stain her cheeks. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”
Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I’m sure you are.”
She walked back over to the desk and picked up another stack of exhibits and placed them on the easel. Smokey couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of her hips beneath her suit skirt. Those shapely legs would feel real good wrapped around him as he thrust into her. Damn—what a woman.
Ashley looked over her shoulder and glared at him.
“What? I’m waiting for you to show me the actual ads.”
“Yeah, right.” Picking up the pointer, she tapped the poster board. “Here is what I envision for a series of ads highlighting the down-home feel of your company.”
“These are good,” he said as she flipped to another exhibit.
She looked over and smiled, the softness replacing the earlier tightness in her face. “Thanks.”
As she continued with the presentation, Smokey wondered if she was going to keep up the charade that Saturday had never happened. Maybe she really does want to keep things between us strictly professional. But if that were true, then why was she trying so damn hard to play Ms. Professional of the Year? And why did she keep sneaking peeks over at him? He had too much experience with women not to know when a chick was into him, but Ashley was proving to be a real challenge. Unlike the numerous women in his life, she wasn’t rushing to get into his bed. That was what intrigued and excited him about her—the chase. He’d never had to work so hard to get a woman. The chicks were always coming to him, and if he did come across one who played hard to get, he could usually get between her legs within a day—two at the most. But with Ashley, he didn’t have a clue how long she’d hold out. There was a sexual charge between them, and he was pretty confident that they would eventually hook up. The only question was: how long was she going to make him chase her?
“Which of the ads do you like the best so far?”
Fuck! “The first one about the home feeling shit—I mean stuff—was good.” Once again, the muscles in her face tightened. “Look, Ashley, I don’t know fuck all about this. You’re the expert, and I appreciate all the hard work and time you’ve put into this marketing stuff. I trust your opinions and your experience. Narrow it down to two for the first campaign set, and let’s see how it goes.”
She set the pointer down, then folded her arms across her chest. “Most clients like to have a say on which ads we use. After all, they are spending a lot of money for them.”
“I’m not ‘most clients.’ I trust you. Zach said you were the best.”
A slight tinge of color lit up Ashely’s face, making her eyes sparkle.
“So, are we good here?”
“Yes. I’ll pick out two I think are the best and show them to you. Even though I appreciate your trust in me, I’ll feel more comfortable if you see and approve the first set of ads.”
“Okay. Now, what about some lunch?”
“I’m swamped. I have to meet with the CEO of Tech Plus next week, and I have a Zoom conference with Zach and Jeremy about a difficult client in Denver.”
He knew she was pushing him away, and it irked and excited him at the same time. “Gotcha. Just put the final two on my desk and text me when you do it. I’ll be on a couple of job sites for the rest of the week.”
“Oh … okay.” Disappointment laced her voice.
I’m up for the chase, baby, but there’s no fuckin’ way I’ll beg anyone for anything. “Good luck with the Aspen client. Zach told me you’ve been working hard on it.” He reached for the contract Pearl had set on the desk earlier.
Gathering up the exhibits, she nodded. “I’m sure Zach has painted a picture of me as a lonely workaholic.”
“Sort of, but I don’t believe it.” He looked up and met her gaze. “I know you like to bike ride.”
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for installing the alarm system in the house. You really shouldn’t have.”
“You’re good at changing the subject.”
“I didn’t know we were on a subject.”
A smile spread across his face. “Whatever you say, Ashley. And you’re welcome. I tried to talk the cheapskate into doing it, but when he flat-out refused, I had it done. I would’ve done it for any employee who has someone on her ass.”
“No one’s out to get me, but having a security system does make me feel safer. This will probably sound dumb to you, but I’m used to a lot of noise. Living in a small town … it’s so quiet, and kind of spooky.
He laughed. “I can see how moving from the city to a town can take some adjusting.”
She picked up her briefcase. “It does. I’m still trying to get used to it. I signed up for a yoga class at the recreation center.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
Smokey pushed his chair back, then stood up. “I’m glad you’re finding the time to do something outside of working.”
“It’s sort of out of character for me. The funny thing is, since I’ve been here, I feel like taking more time off than I did in Denver.”
“It’s small-town living. The pace is slower and calmer here, and that can be pretty seductive,” He walked over to her.
“I guess you’re right. A lot of things in life can be seductive.” She looked up at him with those captivating eyes and smiled.
Smokey reached for her before he knew what he was doing. He pressed her to him, feeling the soft crush of her tits against his chest.
“Smokey, we can’t do this,” she whispered, but didn’t push him away.
“Can’t we?” he rasped.
Twining his fingers into her hair, he pulled on it, tilting her head back until their eyes locked. “Ashley.” Dipping his head low, he crushed his lips to hers.
Dropping her briefcase and papers to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his, allowing him to take possession of her mouth.
Desire burned through every nerve in his body, the voracious wildfire blurring the edges of all reason. He couldn’t remember ever wanting—needing—a woman more.
His hands on her ass, he ground his dick against her as his teeth tugged at her earlobe.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled.
“No,” she murmured, dropping her hands to his waist.
Smokey stared down at her, confused. “What the fuck?”
“Not like this,” she whispered. “Pearl, or anyone else, could walk in.”
He ran one hand up her arm to her neck. “They know to knock, but I can lock the door.”
Ashley pulled away, and he stepped back, his jaw tight, the veins in his neck pulsing.
They stared at one another, a tense silence hanging between them. Finally, she looked away and quietly gathered the materials that had fallen to the floor. He watched her every move, the anger he’d felt a few seconds before dissipating. As much as he wanted to throw her on the desk and fuck her, he wanted their first time to be special. Special? This woman has me all fucked up.
“We’re acting like a couple of animals in heat. We need to stop this.”
“We’re attracted to each other. I don’t see a problem.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he laughed. “I want you and you want me, so let’s cut the shit. You can’t fight chemistry, baby.”
Clutching the portfolio against her chest, she said, “Yes, I can.” Walking over to the door, she looked over her shoulder. “And don’t call me baby.”
He winked at her. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”
; Letting out an exasperated huff, she opened the door and marched out of the office.
It was hot as fuck the way she was making him work for it. No woman had ever affected him the way she did. There was something about her that ignited a fire deep inside his darkness. He felt drawn to her in a way that both stymied and excited him.
“Women.” Chuckling, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed the piece of paper Ryan had given him with the name of Hannah Gleason scrawled across it.
In less than a minute, he had her address and place of employment. It always amazed him how willing people were to share every aspect of their lives on social media.
The Cole Brothers wouldn’t arrive at his office for another two hours, which gave him plenty of time to talk to the alleged victim about what she claimed Ryan had done to her. Smokey knew she was bullshitting, but he wanted to find out why. He had a nagging feeling that someone had put her up to this, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out the whole story. He ducked into the en suite bathroom, changed his clothes, and left the office.
The ride to Newberry’s on West Main Street was a short one. With its red and white striped awning, and white painted brick façade, the dime-store stood out among the brown brick buildings that lined both sides of the street.
Smokey took off his sunglasses and put them in his jacket pocket as he walked into the store. Cool air fanned his face as he stood by a bin of novelties, scanning the area. He was looking for a short, bleached-blonde woman with facial piercings. The store was busy, but that wasn’t a surprise. Newberry’s had been a town favorite for several decades. Replete with pressed tin ceilings, wood floors, and a candy counter, entering the dime-store evoked memories of simpler times, when life was lived at a much slower pace.
A tall, willowy woman wearing a red apron approached him. Turning, he walked in the opposite direction to avoid her, and that’s when he saw Hannah Gleason at the soda fountain in the back of the store. There were a few people seated at the counter, and another employee helping her out. Shoving both hands into his pockets, Smokey made his way toward her, and almost bumped into a trio of boys huddled around the gumball machine.
Hannah came over and wiped the marble counter, then set a glass of water in front of him. Light brown eyes moved over his muscled arms to his chest, then slowly up to his face where her gaze settled. She smiled wide.
“The specials are Frito pie and grilled egg salad with bacon and cheese. Oh, and homemade butterscotch ice cream. It’s real good.” Licking her lips, she leaned over the counter.
“When’s your break?” he asked.
Raising her eyebrows, she pulled the top of her uniform down a bit. “Why do you want to know?”
“Do you have to ask?”
Her face relaxed, her lips turning up into a wicked smile as she glanced over at a fellow soda jerk, then back to Smokey. “Hang on a sec.” The sway of her hips was exaggerated as she walked away.
A few minutes later, Smokey was behind the store with her. He leaned against the wall, one knee bent, his foot pressing flat against the bricks at his back. His gaze skimmed over the nametag on her uniform.
“We gotta talk, Hannah.”
“How do you know my name?” He pointed to the nametag on her uniform, and she giggled. “What’s your name?”
He ignored her question. “I’ve got a problem, Hannah—a big problem.”
She giggled again. “And you want me to fix it?” Her gaze shifted to his crotch, then back to his face.
“Yeah, I want you to fix it. I’m hoping you cooperate, ’cause I don’t wanna get rough with you.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked down at the ground. “I like rough sometimes.”
“I wanna know one thing—why the fuck did you lie about my brother touching you?”
Her eyes snapped up to his, her coy smile gone. “What are you talking about?”
Smokey pushed away from the wall. “The bullshit you told the police about Ryan Harty.”
A scowl crossed her face. “That’s why you wanted me to come out here with you?”
“I wanna know who told you to make up that BS. And don’t even think of lying to me.” He stood less than a foot from her—motionless, and staring menacingly.
Hannah cast a quick glance at the store’s back door.
“Don’t even think about it,” he gritted out.
“I didn’t mean to get your brother into trouble. He opened his coat, and I just sort of … freaked. And when he came over, I thought he was going to hurt me or something.”
Grabbing her arm in a viselike grip, he shoved her against the wall. “You’re trying my fuckin’ patience. Tell me the truth. Now.”
“I’ll tell the police I made it up, I swear.”
“I’d hate to cut your face, but that’ll be up to you,” he growled.
Smokey could smell her fear. Hell, he could see it on her face. He didn’t want to rough her up—it wasn’t his thing—so he hoped his threats would do the trick.
“My boyfriend’s brother told me to do it. When I told him about Ryan, he came up with the idea to exaggerate the whole incident.” She wiped her brow with her free hand. “I know Ryan from high school—he was a couple of years ahead of me. And he didn’t even really flash me. He just opened his coat and I saw his hard-on.”
Squeezing her arm tighter, he demanded, “Give me a fuckin’ name.”
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered.
“What’s the brother’s name?”
Hannah leaned her head back against the brick. “Do you know what he’ll do to me if he finds out I snitched? He’s in a motorcycle club, and he’s bad news.”
Surprise shot through him. “Which MC?”
“I forget the name.” She grimaced when Smokey again tightened his grip. “I’m not lying!”
“Is it a local MC?”
Her eyes widened. “No—it’s not the Insurgents. I wouldn’t be telling you shit if it were. The club is near Cottonwood.”
A tornado of rage swirled inside of him. The only club he knew of in that part of the state was the phony MC Skeet led. “Rising Order,” he muttered.
“That’s it. I’m surprised you know of them. I’d never heard of them until I started dating my boyfriend a couple of months ago. Do you know someone in the club?”
“We’re not out here to chat, so shut the fuck up.” Releasing his hold on her, she rubbed her arm.
“I’m just trying to show you I was used, and didn’t want to make up all that stuff. I like Ryan, but Skeet is real scary.”
I had a feeling that fucker was behind this. I’m gonna beat his traitorous ass!
“Are we good now?”
Smokey nodded. “Go back to work.”
Hannah smiled at him. “My break isn’t over yet.”
“Then walk around the fuckin’ block or something.”
“There’re no hard feelings, right? Maybe we could hook up sometime.”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“We have an open relationship. Anyway”—she ran a finger over his forearm—“I like bad boys. It’s one of my flaws.”
He stepped away from her. “Not interested. I’ll give you until the end of the day to correct the record with the fuckin’ badges. If you don’t, I’ll look for you, and I won’t be in a good mood like I was today. Don’t be stupid—be smart. In my world, smart people live a lot longer than the dumbasses.”
“I’ll call them now. Tell Ryan I’m sorry about causing him so much grief.”
Smokey turned around and walked away, his anger rippling through him so fiercely, his whole body shook. Ever since Skeet left the Insurgents to join up with the Rising Order, Smokey had wanted to beat his ass good. The two of them never got along, but Smokey tolerated him because he was a fellow member. But now, all bets were off. Skeet was a lying, double-crossing piece of shit. In his mind, Skeet had just declared war, and Smokey was more than ready to go to battle with the fucker.
And Smokey didn’t plan on losing.
12
As soon as the elevator doors swooshed open, Smokey stepped out. He hadn’t planned to go into the office, but he had a few emails to check and a conference call to make before he had to head back to the clubhouse for church.
Sabrina flashed him a bright smile as he walked through the lobby and into the hallway where a few of the assistants milled about, but quickly scattered upon seeing him. Needing a jolt of caffeine, he headed down to the break room, smelling the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans. He silently praised Pearl for making sure there was always a fresh pot available. With a big mug of java in hand, he made his way to his office.
An hour after settling down to work, he felt someone’s eyes on him. Looking up, he saw Ashley staring at him from the doorway, looking beautiful in a dot-and-floral dress, bare legs, and high heels, carrying a black portfolio in her hand. Their eyes locked for a long moment until she took a few steps toward him.
“I didn’t think you’d be in,” she said.
“Or you wouldn’t have come by?” One corner of his mouth hitched up into a bemused smirk.
A small frown creased her forehead. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it.” He pointed to the portfolio. “Is that for me?”
“Yes. These are the ads we talked about yesterday. I was going to leave them on your desk.”
“And now you can hand them to me.”
She started to place them on the chair. “I’ll leave them—”
“Are you afraid to come closer?”
She shook her head, her hair shimmering with the motion. “No. It’s just that we do better when we have a respectable amount of distance between us.” The portfolio dropped with a soft thud onto the leather chair.
He laughed. “So we’re back to being strictly professional?”
“That’s right. If you could review these ads and let me know which one you want to start with, I can have it in print and on social media by the end of the week.”
“All right.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head.
“Do you have any questions?”