by Liz Crowe
Great! Looking forward to it. I promise to behave. If you will. Dustin.
Chapter Five
Helena smoothed her linen skirt once more, nervously creating wrinkles in the too-expensive material as she waited for Dustin to show up. She’d made a quick credit card payment and then ran the damn thing back up again with a new suit, shoes, hair color session and, in a fit of bizarre optimism, Brazilian bikini wax. All in the name of presenting a professional front, she justified with every swipe of the card. By the time she got to work Friday morning she had worked herself up into a regular state, unable to eat, to choke down coffee, or even sleep much thanks to him. The twin combination of anticipation and anger fought for control in her brain.
She ignored the rest of the salesmen in the break room, flipped off a few of them at their asinine commentary about fancy clothes and fancy boy toy for the day. Once she figured out Mr. Boy Toy himself was going to be fashionably late, she let anger win the arm wrestling match in her head. She opened her laptop and starting banging out the weekly reports she would normally be doing anyway were she not nearly three hundred dollars further in debt thanks to him. God damned fucking rich boy asshole. Her ears buzzed and her gut roiled every time she heard the front doorbell chime, indicating someone else had walked into their front office. She glanced at the phone when it buzzed with a text.
Sorry. Running late. There in twenty.
She stared at the unfamiliar number, shrugged and entered him as a contact and tried to tame the butterfly parade that had risen in her stomach. Visions of him, memorized from earlier in the week, had danced in and around her libido for hours at a time, making her nearly insane with lust tinged with fury at herself. You can’t have him. He doesn’t want anything more from you than a quick lay. Don’t do it. Unless you think you can handle it. She bit her lip, willing herself calm when the doorbell sounded and she knew before she even heard the deep rumble of his voice that he’d arrived.
She sat, frozen in place, hands clutched together. He made his way back, greeting everyone as he came toward her small space. She looked up at the ceiling, then down and met his eyes. He leaned on the opening to her cubicle, grinning, eyes twinkling. Clad this time in expensive-looking tan trousers and a blue button-down open at the neck, the man was as delectable as she remembered. More so. His essence filled her space, her very pores seemed to open and accept him. Odors of rich malt and piney hops filled her nose.
I’m screwed.
The words tumbled around in her head as she stood, knocked her coffee cup onto the keyboard of her laptop. He jumped forward to grab it at the same time she did, his nose colliding with the top of her head. “Holy shit,” he muttered as he threw tissues from the box on her desk down on the spreading brown stain.
“Here.” She handed him some for his nose. “Sorry. I’m a klutz.” She let her hair fall over her face in hopes of hiding the extreme flush that had spread over her skin. “Damn.” She sopped up the mess, wiped the computer down, praying she hadn’t ruined it. The sight of him holding a tissue to his perfect nose, one eyebrow raised at her nervous activity, somehow made her giggle. His smile grew, which made her snort with laughter.
“Glad I can entertain you,” he mumbled behind the tissue. “I aim to serve.” He stood and made his way toward the bathroom as tears streamed down her face and her gut ached from laughing so hard. By the time he’d returned, a smile still playing around the corners of his full lips, she’d calmed to hiccups. She grabbed her keys and phone and led the way down the back hall toward the parking lot.
Dustin’s head spun as he followed her, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the sound of her earlier laughter. All the anticipated stress he had ahead of him as he broke off the relationship with Valerie and dealt with parental fallout faded as he let the fuzziness of time with Helena wash over him. They tucked samples into the trunk of the POS Toyota again and he slid into the passenger seat. She nodded toward his obnoxious black car two slots down from hers. “That must be yours.”
He shrugged, suddenly at a loss for words. Even the smell of her set his nerves dancing with lust. The clean linen, slightly floral notes of her perfume curled around his brain and settled in for the long haul. He gripped his knees. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. The distinct sensation of his control slipping away from him, giving way to base urges and a near painful need to have her in his arms, now unnerved him so much his leg shook and a headache took hold in his temple.
“Very alpha male. You overcompensating?” The look on her face was one of pure evil. He had to physically restrain himself by hanging onto the door handle not to yank her close and kiss the look off her face.
“No. I’m not.” He settled for that and feigned nonchalance, not believing for a minute that she bought it.
She started in on their selling itinerary for the day, but he heard nothing but the buzzing in his ears that had begun earlier in the week and had ramped up to nearly deafening decibels. But he settled himself in, focused on his goal, and turned to her as she pulled into the early morning traffic heading north toward the resort areas along Lake Michigan. “Thanks,” he said simply.
She glanced over her shoulder and merged onto the busy highway. It took her nearly five minutes to acknowledge him. He spent the time well, studying the clean angles of her face, her high cheekbones, bright blue eyes and hair that fairly begged for him to plunge his hands into. When she spoke, it startled him, so absorbed was he in the future fantasy. Of her, him, together, with kids of all things, running the brewery, happy forever. Jesus, Prufrock, you have gone female on yourself.
“You’re welcome.” She glanced over and smiled. His heard pounded so hard he was surprised she didn’t see it move his shirt. “For…”
“Huh? Oh, well, you know, for taking me out again.” He watched as his hand moved, breached the distance between them, hovered, then retreated when she shot him a hard look. “I know, I promised to behave. And I will. So—” He shifted, attempting to find a comfortable position. The constant state of arousal he seemed to experience around her felt familiar so he let himself own it. “Repeat the agenda for me, would you? I was, ah, distracted earlier.”
She cleared her throat and did so, and he tried very hard to concentrate on her words and not just the cadence of her voice. One way or another he had to get his hands on her again, today, soon, now even. He had a small thrill of worry that maybe that was all he wanted from her. Then realized that was something he never felt about Valerie. Their various sexual exploits consisted of her trying to prove how good she was at blowjobs or how quickly she could orgasm. Boring. Predictable. And unsatisfying. He licked his lips and snuck another glance at her just as she was doing the same to him. He grinned, and she looked away first, her face flushing a delightful shade of red.
By one o’clock Dustin had worked his flirtatious sales magic with all seven of the stops they made, charming one lady bar manager into ordering six cases in anticipation of the upcoming holiday weekend. Helena attempted to not be irritated at his ease with women, and how every single one of them ended up doe-eyed and slack-jawed by the time he was done. Fucking playboy. She tamped down the jealousy, reminding herself he was making money for her after all. The moment in the car when he’d almost touched her then stopped still made her quiver with anticipation.
But she did her best to give off a “stay away” vibe. And it was working. He’d gone all business the minute they’d hit the first store. The big test would come after they had lunch at the Grand Traverse Resort. They already had a permanent tap handle there, so no selling was required, just checking in, having a good meal and relaxing a little. But with her nerve endings zinging with the sort of twitchy, flat-out horny energy she had not experienced, well, ever in her life, relaxation seemed like a distant, unobtainable goal. And thoughts of the three large beer stores they needed to really nail after lunch made fatigue hover on her horizon.
“Holy shit, my jaw hurts from talking so much.” Dustin groaned and stretch
ed. She kept her eyes averted to avoid the temptation of staring at the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. He rubbed the ache in question and she had to clench her fists under the table to keep from doing the same thing—she could practically feel the roughness of his stubbled face. “How the hell do you do this every day?”
She gulped some water. They’d had some great conversation in the car between stops. Talking about the business, his process, her need for him to be more in tune to what the salesmen tell him. “We are on the front lines, you know. We know what people are buying, thanks to the retailers who place the orders.” He’d laughed at her tale of touring the one brewery larger than his over in Detroit. She’d been wearing high heels and had slipped on a puddle of glycol and landed on her ass, resulting in a bruise that took weeks to heal.
But now, facing him once more across a very small table overlooking the pristine golf course at the resort, her nervousness returned. The words “out of your league” and “looking for a quick lay” dashed across her brain, making her dizzy. But he kept talking, and she kept nodding, trying not to stare at the way his lips moved and how much she wished he’d shut up and kiss her. What was wrong with a simple physical relationship anyway? Her last boyfriend had not been that good, she’d just been in that for the companionship and had been bored silly. The chemistry that rolled between them now was obvious to her—and to him, she felt certain. She smiled at him, shifted her shoulders and tossed her hair. He hesitated, lost his train of thought in a very satisfying way. His next words made her blink in surprise.
“Where did you come from anyway?”
“Huh?” She sipped the Prufrock IPA to hide her confusion.
“Did you just spring in all your fully formed beauty into my world from nowhere? I mean, did you grow up here? How have I never seen you before?
“Oh, well, I doubt you attended the crappy public school I did or the crime-riddled high school or that we would have seen each other at the public pool where I worked as a lifeguard. You know, I didn’t belong to the country club.”
He reached over and grabbed her hand before she realized what he was doing. His skin was warm, perfect, and she let him hold onto her, discovering that her sudden spike of pique at his question had faded away at his touch. “Helena,” he soothed as he ran his thumb across the top of her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Let me try again.” He leaned in and took her other hand, making her nearly choke on the stone-fired pizza bite she’d just taken. “Tell me your story. I want to know all about you. Including the crappy school, the public pool and whatever else.”
“I assure you it’s boring.” Her face burned and she tried to pull her hands from his but he wouldn’t let go. His dark gaze mesmerized her. “Uh, I was an original latch-key kid. My single mom worked at a bowling alley. I wore second-hand clothes and fixed shitty, unhealthy meals for myself. But made good grades, had a few friends. Got into Western Michigan but my mom died of what I’m pretty sure is AIDS when I was a sophomore. She was turning tricks in her car it seems.” Why in God’s name she was telling him all of this she had no idea. But he kept staring at her. And she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her again, like he had earlier in the week. “I had some money saved from being a lifeguard, and got a fair bit of financial aid, but once Mom died, well, I just lost interest…or something.” She let her voice fade, realizing how incredibly lame the whole thing sounded. She tugged out of his grip, pissed at him for making her say so much.
He leaned back, sipped his beer, kept quiet.
“So now that I’ve impressed you with my pedigree, I guess we can agree that anything that happens between us,” she pointed to him, determined to get this shit out in the open once and for all, “is purely physical. I mean, I’m not your type, as I said. Other than for a quick fuck, I guess.”
Anger shot through Dustin’s eyes, and he leaned forward. “I said it once and I’ll say it again, Turner. You don’t have the first idea what my type is. So stop putting words in my mouth. It’s annoying.”
She shrugged, tried to keep her expression casual. But the burning sensation in her face had traveled south, down her spinal cord and settled in her core once again. She watched his hands, imagined how they would feel against her bare skin. Saw his lips moving, remembered exactly how they felt on hers. When he reached out and ran his finger over her cheek she jerked back, shocked when she saw the wetness on his fingertip. She swiped at her face. Angry tears had been her downfall her entire life.
She stood, determined to put some distance between them before she made a complete fool of herself. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t get up.” She turned away before he could speak. Once inside, she collapsed against the bathroom stall door, breathless with lust and furious with herself for falling for the rich boy bullshit.
Chapter Six
Dustin forced himself to stay put, sipping his beer, clamping a lid on his libido and the sudden urge to save her. To plunk her into an expensive car, house, with designer clothes on her back, vacations to Europe, all the shit he took for granted. Something told him she’d balk at all of it anyway. Stubborn woman. He smiled, watching her return to the table. Stubborn, beautiful, smart and wholly unsuitable according to his ingrained parental requirements for a life partner. Ignoring the small whisper of doubt about his motives, he rose, threw some money on the table and guided her back out to her car. His head awash with images, all of them erotic and all starring her and him and the first of many long weekends together.
But she stayed quiet, giving only monosyllabic responses to his questions for the next hour as they drove along the coastal Lake Michigan resort towns. Figuring now was not the time to invite her to pop in at his family’s large house on a bluff in Manistee, he kept at it, trying to get her talk, to shake her funk or whatever had settled over her at lunch. By the time they reached their destination, he had her laughing again at some anecdote about his time in Germany. The sound was like a symphony of perfection to his ears. She parked and they sold, hitting three places and making three pretty impressive pitches together, learning to riff off each other, fill in the blanks and impress some fairly recalcitrant bar managers.
“Jesus,” she sighed, stretching before getting back into the car, giving him a heart-stopping view of a small sliver of her skin between skirt and blouse. He had to step away from her before he did something stupid. “I’m exhausted.” He threw her a weak smile and climbed into the car before she saw the effect she had on him. “One more stop, then we’ll head back, hopefully miss the worst of the traffic on 96 back to town.”
He nodded and stayed quiet, trying to calm his newly raging lust and visceral need to touch her.
She shot him an odd look as she started the car. He gulped and looked away. He had never had this weird, almost queasy feeling in his gut about anyone before. Erik had brought out something in him he’d embraced, enjoyed and let go. But this…this was something different entirely and he was not sure he liked it. But realized he was willing to try, to break off his engagement and get this woman into his life.
The tension between them was more than palpable. It shimmered in the air, suffused his every pore, made him twitchy, horny and pissed off all at once. It was, in a word, perfect. He let it carry him along as he followed the luscious sway of her hips up to the door of the giant liquor store, their last stop before the long trek back down to Grand Rapids. He needed to make a move, but for the first time in years had no idea how to go about it.
“Helena!” A tall, handsome blond guy came out from behind the counter and enveloped her in a hug, setting Dustin’s teeth on edge. He forced a smile, shook the guy’s hand. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to yank her back, tuck her under his arm, show this preening GQ model asshole whose woman she was. He groaned to himself. She is not yours, Prufrock…not yet.
She frowned at him and he realized he hadn’t risen to her cue. He shook his head and started in on the patter that had netted them so many sales today. At one po
int during their back-and-forth he looked at her, really studied her profile and made a vow to get her back to Grand Rapids tonight and take her out, show her an amazing time, and cut to the chase once and for all. He started when he felt a sharp pain in his toe. Looking down, he saw her high heel pressing on him, reminding him he’d gone moony again, lost the train of their collective thought on this last crucial stop.
Finally, she pushed herself off the counter where they were leaning, chatting, tasting and trying to get the blond man to place a large order for his summer crowd. Dustin noticed the guy eyeballing her cleavage and felt a rush of fury. He shoved his hands in his pockets and decided he no longer cared if this asshole bought a single beer from her. They were done here. He stepped back, raised an eyebrow at her glare and said no more. He was not begging for a sale and he did not care for how the jerk was devouring her with his eyes. He watched her jaw tighten but kept his lips zipped, unwilling to rise to her bait to keep up the banter or to acknowledge how fucking furious he was at the man’s reaction to her.
“So, um, Trevor, why don’t I just go back and check your stock real quick. You guys, you know, carry on.” She brushed by him, mumbling under her breath, “Cut the shit, Prufrock. Close the damn deal.”
He frowned at her, then over at the giant asshat behind the counter, who eyeballed her perfection as she made her way toward the back of the warehouse-like store. The guy dragged his eyes from her backside over to Dustin, grinned and shrugged. Dustin stared at him for about three seconds longer than he cared to, then spoke. “It’s up to you, Trevor. You know this beer will sell. I guess you can keep stringing her out so you can feel her up with your eyes a few more times or we can be out of your hair. Your choice.”