by Pepper North
Benton held out his hand and introduced himself, “You must be Charlotte Sanders. I’m Benton Gordon. This is my store. I hope I have the code to get in.” His brown eyes twinkled in merriment.
“Yes,” Charlotte answered simply and then blushed again when she realized it sounded like she was commenting on whether he should have the code to his own store. “I mean, yes, I’m Charlotte Sanders. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Gordon.” Charlotte stepped forward to shake hands but forgot the broken heel, and the kind man caught her for the second time. “Sorry!” she mumbled in embarrassment. “They just don’t make shoes like they used to.” She really didn’t want him to know that her shoes were second or third hand from the thrift store’s discard pile. She’d colored them in with a blue marker, and they looked pretty good. They just were too worn out.
“Let’s get you inside, and you can take a seat in my office, Charlotte. I have been looking forward to meeting you,” Benton pressed in his personal code and took Charlotte’s elbow to guide her inside and help her hobble on the broken heel. Once inside off the hot concrete, Benton commented wryly, “You are going to sprain your ankle walking on that broken shoe. Would you like to take your shoes off?” When Charlotte shook her head no in panic, he knew she was concerned by the unprofessional look of not wearing shoes. He picked her up before she could react and walked briskly into his office setting her in one of the plush chairs facing his desk.
Waving off her protests, Benton simply said, “You are as light as a feather, Charlotte. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. Who knows maybe you would have sued me?” Benton watched her face immediately crumple, and she began to sob.
“How did he know?” Charlotte was so overwrought. Obviously, her former manager had spread his inaccurate story blaming her for the lawsuit even to this remote store.
Excerpt from Tony: Dr. Richards’ Littles 10
The sound of a loud motorcycle engine interrupted the music playing in the car repair bay of the service station. The owner Rob Harris straightened up from his position under the hood of the sports car he was working on to turn and watch as an old-school chopper pulled in to park at the entrance to the shop. He grabbed an almost clean rag from his back pocket and started walking to the front of the shop as the motorcyclist pulled off his gloves and helmet before swinging his leg over with the grace of a regular motorcyclist. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked up as Rob walked out to greet him.
“Afternoon. Is there something that I can do for you?” Rob said as he cleaned his hand on the rag.
“Good afternoon. I’m Tony Perez. I came to apply for the job listed in your window,” Tony said in his deep gravelly voice. He was tan and slim but very physically fit. As he looked Rob in the eyes, Rob got his first glimpse at his unusual, ice-blue eyes.
“Do you have any experience?” Rob asked looking curiously at the young man.
“I just got my auto and motorcycle repair certification from the local junior college. I built my own bike from parts I scavenged from the junkyard in my hometown. I’ve done a fair amount of work on cars but I’ll admit more on motorcycles. I’m a fast learner and a hard worker, sir. I promise. You won’t be sorry you’ve hired me,” Tony spoke quickly with a devastating white smile.
“You’re not from around here, are you, Tony?” Rob asked looking past him to his motorcycle with the attached sleeping bag and duffle.
“No, sir. I came here to go to school. I grew up in Lincoln in the next state over,” Tony admitted. His smile faded. “I’ll be honest with you, sir. I left town because the local sheriff was trying to put me away for dating one of his children. He didn’t care for me much. It was better for me to move on,” Tony said simply.
“Oh, he didn’t like you dating his daughter, huh?” Rob said with a chuckle.
“No, sir... his son,” Tony watched him carefully to see if his sexual preference would keep him from getting this job.
Rob looked at him carefully. “I see. I’m Rob Harris, the owner of this service station. Bring your fancy certificates with you and come back to the office. I’ll buy you a soda and we’ll talk. You may decide that my shop isn’t what you’re looking for but I need a break anyway and I could really use some help.” Rob watched as Tony’s generous lips spread into a big grin.
“Wow, this young man is stunning,” Rob thought to himself. He was going to have to be careful to keep his distance. Tony had to be ten years younger than he was. Rob couldn’t keep his eyes from following Tony’s walk back to his motorcycle and he tried not to groan as he leaned over to open his duffle to pull out the certificate. “Lord, have mercy,” Rob kept the conversation going in his brain. That young man had a bottom that he’d see in his dreams for a while.