Ten minutes before the appointed interview time, I closed my book and went into the office. Six years of employment meant the receptionist knew me, so she waved me back to the interview area.
“Miss Smith?” Carla called. She winked at me. It was her way of wishing me good luck.
Inside the small conference room was a man and a little old lady seated on one side of the rectangular table. I scoped out the lady first—she was the one I would have to win over. Salon permanent, steady hand with her makeup, white embroidered cardigan. Her hands and eyesight were still doing well and she had enough cash and friends to go to the beauty parlor every once in a while. She’d be a great client. I sat down and smiled.
“Good morning, ma’am.” I accentuated what little bit of a southern accent I had left. Then I turned to the man sitting next to her. “Good morning, sir.”
The word sir caught in my mouth. I doubt he got called that very often. He was wearing a black leather vest with a patch that said Demon Horde. Underneath was a long-sleeved T-shirt, pulled up to show a skeleton hand tattoo poking out just above his wrist. His hands were clean, but stained darker from whatever his job was. Running drugs? Committing murder? Working for some neo-Nazi paramilitary organization?
I took a deep breath. I tried to calm down and not jump to conclusions. He wasn’t wearing any swastikas, so I was probably okay. I needed to focus on the patient. If I wanted this job, I had to win her over. But the question was, did I want this job? Who was this guy and how did he fit in?
“Nice to meet you, my dear.” The old lady smiled. “I’m Anne Remmick and I need a home health aide.”
Nodding, I shook her hand.
The man cleared his throat. “Clint Remmick, her grandson.” He held out his hand. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
Shit. I had hesitated in shaking his hand and not even realized it.
“Oh, of course.” I shook his hand. “I’m Jordan Smith, but please call me Jo.”
I turned my focus to Ms. Remmick, my client. There were the usual “tell me about yourself” questions and then questions about my job history.
“Your last position was just three weeks?” Clint asked, looking at my resume. “Why so short?”
Before I could answer, Carla jumped in. “Sometimes we get temporary positions and I sent her out on one of those. The client moved to Arizona. He needed the warmth.”
I looked at her and smiled. I was grateful for her lie. Once she’d realized I was reliable, she always kept me employed, even if it meant a white lie or two.
The interview was pretty unremarkable. I usually try to stand out somehow, but the big guy in leather was throwing me off my game.
“So, let’s talk about scheduling,” Clint said. “I work and Nana can’t be home alone on her own.”
“Well, I am in school.” I gulped. Often this killed my application. Families didn’t want a home health worker with other obligations in her life. I tried to soften the blow. “I have night classes that we’ll need to schedule around. I do need to study sometimes, but I promise it won’t interfere with my job.”
I stared down at my hands. Maybe bath time with the veteran wouldn’t be so bad if I used extra towels. Definitely a lot of extra towels.
“Oh, that’s lovely, dear.” The old lady smiled. “What are you studying?”
“Nursing, ma’am.” I took a deep breath. “I like to use what I learn with my patients.”
“And how long until you finish?” She carefully picked up her pencil and wrote something on my resume.
I cleared my throat. Oh yeah. This job was toast.
“Actually, only one more semester. So, I’ll be done at the end May.” It was mid-January. If they wanted someone long-term, that wouldn’t be me. I was planning to get a real nursing job just as soon as I had my RN.
“So this would be just a temporary position for you?” Clint asked, frowning. “You plan on getting another job after you graduate?”
“Yes, sir.” My lungs deflated. At least I would get paid twenty percent more for the creepy guy.
“That’s nice to hear.” Anne winked at her grandson. “When you get tired of your old nana living with you, Jo can just start her new job. I like this idea.” She turned to me and nodded. “And I like that you’re in school. I think it shows moxie. A woman should always be able to support herself. I did bookkeeping when my girls were little. Took a few classes myself.”
“Wow, thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say and twisted my hands in my lap. I wasn’t sure who called the shots, Anne or her grandson.
Clint looked at me and then back to Anne. “Whatever you want, Nana.” He bowed his head. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at me. “I like you. You’ve got the job. Can you start in one week?”
The world stopped and I replayed the words in my head. No one had ever offered me a job right at the interview.
“Yes.” I looked at Carla. Had she ever had this happen before? “I can start whenever you’d like.”
Clint slid a piece of paper across the table to me. “Here’s the address. You can move in as early as Thursday.”
“Great.” I nodded and peeked at Clint. He was writing something on a notepad. His skeleton tattoo looked like it would jump right out from his sleeve and grab me. I shivered. I would also be living with the scary biker. “I’ll see you Thursday.”
Chapter Three
Jo
On Thursday, I stood in front of the 1960s single-level and knocked on the door. Move-in days were pretty easy. You meet the family, they show you your room, maybe you get a schedule. Everyone was on their best behavior. You never saw Mom yelling at Grandma, or someone forgetting to change a diaper for five hours. The families would put on their best front for the first few days. After that was when things got messy.
The door opened and it was Clint. The big scary guy, wearing a long-sleeved henley but no vest this time. He was wiping his hands on a dishrag.
“Welcome.” He stepped aside for me. “Come on in.”
I walked past him and found myself in the family room. Usually things were an utter mess or looked like a hospital, but this place was shocking even with all of my experience. It was totally empty.
“Did you just move in?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, got the keys from the rental agent last night. Nana had to sign some papers, so she’s back at the coast. She’ll be here in two days for her next dialysis appointment. It’s just you and me until then,” he explained. “So, uh, can I help you with your stuff?”
It all clicked into place. Nana lived in a small town and she needed to be closer to the big city. He was probably the only family member who could take her. It made a lot more sense now why a scary biker would be living with an octogenarian.
“I can get my own stuff. I don’t have much.” Behind him was a hallway, I craned my neck to look. “Can you show me which room is mine?”
He led me to a room. Basic bedroom, small closet, high rectangular 1960s-style single-paned window. No bed. Damn. Oh well, I had a decent sleeping bag.
“Thanks.” I smiled. “This will be perfect.”
He left me to do my own moving in. It didn’t take long. I had a suitcase of clothes and a couple of boxes of photos and bathroom stuff. As I was hanging clothes up, Clint knocked on my door.
“So, is your stuff coming now or later?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb. “You got a friend with a truck or something? I can help with anything you need.”
“Well, usually a bed is provided.” I covered my mouth with my hand. Damn. It’s never good to ask your brand-new boss for something expensive. “I don’t expect you to buy me furniture. I’ll just use a sleeping bag until I can get one.”
“But most people have a bed for you?” He frowned. “That’s why you don’t have one of your own?�
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“It’s okay, really,” I assured him. “I have a good sleeping bag and these are carpeted floors, so it’ll be fine.”
“No. It’s not okay.” Clint shook his head. “I should have thought of that. Finish getting your stuff settled and then come find me. We’re gonna go buy a brand-new mattress.”
After he left, I fussed around with my clothes and repositioned my personal photos on the windowsill about fifteen times. I was stalling. I really wanted to take him up on his offer. It’s never fun to sleep on the floor, but he’d mentioned a brand-new mattress. I’d never slept on a new one. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine no valleys from previous owners, no pokey springs, and no stench of fumigation chemicals. It sounded amazing.
Finally, I heard him knock. “Jo? We should leave soon,” he called from the hall. “The store is going to close.”
Slowly, I opened the door. He was wearing his vest again. Demon Horde. I kept saying those words over and over. It had to be a group, but what kind?
“Right, okay.” The temptation of a comfortable new mattress was too much to refuse. I grabbed my purse and followed him down the hallway and out the door.
He stopped in front of a beat-up brown truck and opened the passenger-side door. For me. I was rooted to the ground. He wanted me to get in the car with him. His shirtsleeve was pulled up a little more—there was an odd-looking chain around the tattoo skeleton’s hand. My heart was pounding in my ears. Was he going to kidnap me and take me as some sort of offering? I knew that Carla had background checked him and everything was fine, but I was still nervous.
“You gonna get in?” He raised an eyebrow.
“What’s the Demon Horde?” I demanded. I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t going to get into a car with him until I knew. “On your vest, it says Demon Horde. Is that some kind of organization?”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Um, it’s a club. All of my friends are members. We all like motorcycles.”
“Oh.” It clicked in my head. “You’re a biker then?”
“I prefer the term motorcycle enthusiast.” He laughed and shrugged. “It’s a line from a television show.”
“So, it’s not like any white power or Nazi stuff?” I asked bluntly. I was tired of beating around the bush. “Look, I have to ask. You have a lot of tattoos and most are covered up. I just want to know that you’re not gonna kill me and hang me from a tree.”
“Hey.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “I promise you, I’m not some crazy racist and I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll be totally safe with me. I’ll do anything you want to prove it. You name it.”
There was not a hint of laughter or deceit. I searched his eyes, listened to his tone of voice. I even watched his mannerisms. Nothing that would show me he was lying. I looked down where he was holding my hand and saw the tattoo again.
“Will you show me your tattoos?” I was a little ashamed of myself for asking. He’d just made this impassioned statement and frankly, I believed him. But I just had to be sure. I had to make sure I was safe.
“Absolutely.” He slipped his vest off his shoulders and handed it to me. “Hold this?”
The leather was warm from his body as I draped it over my arm. I thought maybe he’d push up his sleeves, or pull down the neck of his shirt. Instead, he caught the hem and just took it off.
My mouth went dry when I saw what was underneath. His arms were covered from the top of his shoulder to his wrist in skeletons holding chains. Then he turned. Another skeleton, this time wearing a crown, was riding a motorcycle. It was while I was staring at his back that I realized, he had some serious muscle. Muscle that I wanted to touch—and not in a clinical way. Sweat beaded between my shoulder blades as I got a good look at his muscles.
He turned to face me and there was one last tattoo I hadn’t noticed before. I couldn’t really tell what it was, but it was on his incredibly sculpted pectoral. Right over his heart. I reached my hand out to trace it. Before I could touch him, he caught my wrist.
“Shit!” I screeched, and snatched my hand back. I had made the man show me his body for my own inspection in the driveway. “I didn’t mean to touch you, I was just looking at the tattoo. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Look, let’s forget the whole bed thing. I’ll get one with my first paycheck.” I thrust his vest at him and started walking back to the house.
“Hey, Jo.” He jogged up behind me. “Stop, let’s talk, okay?”
I turned and saw a mountain of muscle in my face. I tore my gaze away and looked up. Maintain eye contact, I reminded myself. Don’t let your eyes drop to that fantastic chest.
“Don’t feel bad about anything.” His eyes were icy blue and determined. “You’re a single woman moving into a house with people you don’t know. You’re vulnerable, I get it. I will do anything I can to make you feel comfortable. If that means parading around shirtless all day, I’ll do it.” He grinned, but then it died. “I’m just trying to be funny and that came out like I’m hitting on you. Which I’m not. I just don’t want you to be scared of me or anything. You live in my house, that means it’s my job to make sure that both you and Nana are safe and protected.”
I nodded. Damn it, I believed him. That good guy act he was putting on was real.
“You ready to go get a bed?” he asked. “We can do it another time, or I can just pick something out and you don’t have to go at all. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
“I’ll go.” I smiled. He’d been so nice, it was the least I could do.
He put his shirt and vest on and we climbed into the truck. It was a fast but quiet ride to the mattress store. I breathed in the smell of new plastic as we walked in. I’d never bought new furniture before.
“Hello!” The salesman beamed at us, probably smelling fresh meat. “What are you looking for? Queen size? California king?”
“Twin,” I responded.
“Queen,” Clint said at the same time as me.
The salesman looked from Clint and back to me, waiting for us to make up our minds.
I cleared my throat. “A twin would give me more space in my room.” I turned back to the salesman. “We’re looking for a twin.”
The sales guy, Gary, was clearly disappointed he wouldn’t make his sales quota with our visit. He turned and walked the other direction. I hurried to follow him.
“Here’s the twins.” He gestured to a bunch of mattresses set up on kid frames. One was a racecar, one was a pink sleigh bed. “Lay on them and let me know which one you like.”
“Oh, I know which one I want.” I pointed to the cheapest one. It was in a frame with cartoon characters all over. “We’ll take that one.”
Gary rolled his eyes.
“Hey,” Clint broke in. “Why don’t you give us a few minutes? We’re still looking.” He sat down on a plush pillow-top and patted the spot next to him. “Come sit down, okay?”
I sat. Shit, another serious discussion, just like we had in the driveway. At the rate this was going, he was probably gonna fire me before Mrs. Remmick even arrived.
“Let’s get something straight.” Clint turned to me. “I’m not rich, but I’m not poor. A proper bed is well within my means, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered. It had been so long since someone had done something nice like this, I wasn’t sure what to say.
“If the ninety-nine-dollar special is really the one you want, then we’ll get you that.” He put his hand on my shoulder, but then let it drop to the mattress. “You’re gonna be taking care of my nana. I need you to be well rested and comfortable. You got it? I want to make sure you’re happy at our house.”
“Oh.” Of course, he wasn’t just being nice, he also wanted to make sure I was okay to do my job. That made it all a little less weird. I looked up at him. He was frowning just a little; brown brows framed his blue eyes
. It was like he was looking into me, like he thought of me as more than just a servant who would live in his home. I was a person. “Thanks.”
“This one isn’t bad.” He bounced up and down on the bed. “Come on, pick out one you like.”
Soon we were laughing and flopping on beds all over the store. I finally found a twin-size firm pillow-top that was like sleeping on heaven. I was looking for the price tag when Clint walked up behind me.
“Is this the winner?” he asked. “You’ve come back to it like three times.”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said, kneeling by the side of the mattress. “But I can’t find the price tag.”
He and I searched around until we finally found the tag attached to the foot of the bed. Gary, smelling commission, mysteriously reappeared.
“We’ll take this one,” Clint announced.
He was no longer the scary leather-clad thug. He was just Clint, a nice guy.
Who looked into my eyes and thought of me as a real person.
And was dangerously hot.
And lived with his grandma.
Chapter Four
Clint
I lay on my mattress on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Damn, Nana’s nurse was smokin’. She was a little standoffish, but she was all leg, with a pair of perky tits that made me look twice. Once she’d loosened up, we shared a few laughs while shopping for her bed. I couldn’t get her throaty giggle out of my head. It was running through my brain like a damn song I couldn’t forget. I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to remove the image of her reaching out to touch my chest. I laughed—I should have let her do it.
Getting up, I stretched. I needed to get going. The prospects would be here soon and then moving day would begin. I’d been shopping used furniture sales for the last two weeks and everything was arriving this morning.
I headed out to the hallway and saw Jo. Wet hair streamed on her bare shoulders. She had a towel wrapped around her that pushed her boobs into magnificent little pillows. Just a little bit lower and I might have seen some nipple, but not quite. She hitched up the towel a little and blushed. Shit. I needed to keep eye contact so she wouldn’t realize I was staring at her boobs.
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