by Box Set
A booth is replacing me? Seriously? “This shows how much you don’t know the ins and outs of the industry. I doubt you will find drivers who will agree to this, especially when they feel overworked as it is. And even if they do, that doesn’t mean they have excellent people skills. Some of them prefer to just drive.” Most of them. Hank was close to retirement, but she doubted he’d be into doing more than what he already did. Was it fair for the company to let him go before he could retire just because he wasn’t up for performing additional tasks?
“We’ll up their salaries, and give them incentives.”
“If you already have every single detail nailed down, then why do you need me?”
“Because the drivers like you. And maybe in the process of transition you can help us train them.”
She took another swig of water, and wished it were alcohol. “Oh. So not only will I help you get rid of my colleagues, but I will be the pain in the ass who bosses the drivers around.” They will hate me.
“The ones who choose to stay and agree with the new policies.”
“The new policies suck.”
“I missed you, Roxie. How you tell it like it is.”
“Yeah I’m sure you did. Don’t think a compliment will keep me off track.”
He took a bite of his steak. “I don’t. In two days, the first bus with the booth installed will arrive. Can we test it then?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. Even if a side of her protested unwelcome and ridiculous change, what could she do? She couldn’t just up and leave. She had a mouth to feed at home, and impulsive decisions would take her nowhere. “Then yes.”
“By the way, I didn’t know you had a son until we had dinner the other day.”
“Adam is three.”
He leaned in, and glanced around before gazing at her and saying, “I apologize for what happened… if you’re involved with another man. I would never touch another man’s wife.”
“Oh I’m not. My ex husband is dead,” she said, and brought a generous amount of Caesar salad to her mouth. Was there a better way to say she happened to be a divorcee, widow and single mom all wrapped in one nice, paranoid package?
He frowned. “Really?”
“Yes. But we were divorced before he died in a car crash.” Because he was driving and texting some ho.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and the tenderness in his voice assured her he meant it.
“Thanks. He lived on the fast lane, though, so he sort of had it coming.”
“How is your kid?”
She bit back a smile as the image of her cute little toddler formed in her head. “He’s smart and ballsy, and he has a heart of gold.”
“And he has his mother to thank for it.”
Chapter 4
Stefano clasped the colorful bouquet he’d purchased. Usually buying flowers for a woman was a quick affair—ordering online was the easiest. Yet, today he’d actually walked into a flower shop and had been unable to decide between the large sunflowers or the orange tulips or the soft lavenders. Clearing his throat, he glanced at all three kinds of flowers now wrapped in a tasteful, beautiful bouquet.
To keep his mind from racing, he rang the doorbell of Roxie’s apartment again. Mierda. Why did he act like he was on a damn date, when all he wanted was to give her some flowers? Her chatty coworker had told him Roxie had called in sick and taken the day off unexpectedly.
He motioned to ring the doorbell one more time, when the door swung open, his hand hanging in mid-air.
“What?” she asked, with a towel over her head.
“Your colleague said you were sick. She also gave me your home address. I came to check in on you,” he said, managing to sound confident and in control, almost as if he was doing her a favor.
A pair of sweat pants with the words PINK on it covered her legs, and she had on a flimsy blue tank top.
“I’m…” she started, then rubbed her temples. “I’m okay. Are these for me?”
“Yes,” he said, giving her the bouquet.
She eyed the bouquet intently, then let out an exasperated sigh. “Shit. Come in,” she said, getting out of her way. “Unless you came just to deliver these. Which would be pretty nice.”
He winked at her. “I’m not that nice,” he said, desperate to add playfulness to the strange throb in his gut. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he came to visit her just because he couldn’t deal with spending a full day without seeing her—sick or healthy. And that bugged the shit out of him.
“Welcome to my humble crib.”
A set of sofas and a coffee table with those kid-proofing foam things in the corners, plus a couple of stains on the otherwise clean carpet reminded him this was someone’s home. A few trucks and Lego pieces scattered across the floor, gave the apartment a comfortable, homey lived in feeling.
Did he own a home? No. He managed to keep several houses in different cities that he lent to close friends and visited when he was at that particular location.
He almost slipped on a sippy cup, then bent to retrieve it from the floor and placed it on the wood coffee table.
“Sorry. The place is a mess.” She tightened the towel over her head. “Listen, I’m leveling with you. I’m not sick, but Adam has lice. I didn’t want to come clean at work because then everyone would be scratching their heads when they saw me, and wondering if I had it, too.”
Lice. Something he didn’t hear everyday. “And you got it?” he asked with a shrug.
She stuck out her tongue. “Nope. I didn’t find any, but I’m shampooing my hair for prevention. He got it from a playgroup my parents take him to. My mom caught some too, which is why she got so desperate and went home. She gets fussy about hair.”
He heard a laugh, and turned to his left, where a small blonde boy played a tower building game. Without much thinking, he walked up to him, and kneeled down. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi. I’m Adam. You’re Momma’s friend?” he asked, his big blue eyes on him. Adam watched him with curiosity, sizing him up.
Stefano nodded. “Yes. I’m Stefano, Momma’s friend.”
“Steph—” Adam started, obviously having a hard time pronouncing, he shook his head and pointed at the blocks a couple feet away. “Let’s play. Play.”
“Honey, Mr. Stefano is actually busy,” she started, but Stefano ignored her and sat next to Adam.
He winked at her. “I have time to play.” If she thought she would get rid of him that easily, she could think again.
She cleared her throat, and fiddled with a truck she just picked off the floor. “Nice, but you don’t have to,” she said, and he didn’t miss the hint of nervousness in her voice.
“I don’t mind. And I’m not nice.” What was it with the nice stuff? During his whole life he never had been called a nice anything. Focused, egocentric and smart, yeah. He swallowed. “I happen to be into building stuff.”
She gave him a glance, and shrugged. “Right.” She crossed her arms around her chest. “If you don’t mind, would you watch him for a few minutes? I have to rinse my hair really soon. I already did his.”
“Take your time.”
“Thanks.”
She dashed away from him, and he used the next several minutes to entertain the little guy. Adam made it so real. Roxie had a son. She had married and settled down—something he hadn’t managed to do. Apprehension tugged at his chest, and a strange thought bugged him. Did she accomplish more than he? Financially, he’d win. Easy. But otherwise… how many real meaningful relationships did he have? And why did any of this matter?
For the next twenty minutes, he found himself fascinated by how tiles and blocks could be so entertaining. Adam focused on the task, but from time to time turned his face to Stefano and watched what he did, to ensure Stefano paid attention to him.
“Sorry,” she said, coming into the living area. Her hair still damp, and the waves framed her face, the loose curls touching he
r back. She exuded beauty, youth and freshness in a non-threatening way. “I had to rinse it well.”
“No worries.”
She rubbed her palms together. Was she hinting for him to go? “Well thanks for dropping by. As you see, I’ll survive.”
“Do you think you can make it to the test tomorrow? If not, we can reschedule.” he asked, without moving an inch.
She nodded. “Of course. My dad will watch Adam tomorrow if my mom bails again. So I should be okay.”
Adam destroyed the tower and dozens of tile blocks thumped the carpet. He didn’t seem heartbroken. Nope. The kid gave Stefano a mischievous grin, then turned to his mom. “Where’s my pizza?”
“Oh crap.” She slapped her forehead. “I meant to call the pizza place. This is so nuts. I still have to wash and dry a lot of his linens and clothes.”
“Let me order it for you. And if you need help with laundry count on me.”
“You’re quite the errand boy.”
He parted his lips but hesitated. Should he tell her he was responsible for laundry at the ranch? How many times did John order him to one of the tasks he most disliked? The good thing about washing clothes, boy, is they usually come out cleaner, better. There’s always a second chance for them.
She drew back for a second, sizing him up like she pondered if she should send him away. Then, she tilted her head, her brows furrowing, and he would have given thousands of dollars to find out what was going in her head. “You know what? I’ll take it.”
He helped her clear the table for dinner, then watched Adam while he had little caveman’s antics as he ate. The next two hours flew by: he enjoyed helping Roxie wash copious amount of linens and clothes. More than anything, he enjoyed being with her.
After she put Adam to sleep, she came to the living room carrying a green bottle.
She gave him the bottle. “Your turn. You need to shampoo your hair.”
He palmed the shampoo. “What?”
Determined, she continued, hands perched at her waist. “To make sure you don’t get lice. You were playing with him earlier.”
“Oh. Ok. I will buy it then,” he said, and tried to read the name on the white sticker.
“This is prescription. Much better than the over the counter crap, trust me. I’ll take care of it. I can’t let you leave like this. That’s the least I can do after you helping me.”
He frowned. “Now you’re the one being nice.”
She waved him off. Yes. Foxie Roxie was nice in all sorts of ways. Even though he could take away the jobs of those she had grown close to, and her own position at Floridian she still cared enough for him to make sure he wouldn’t be itching his head like a monkey on a humid day.
“Head to my bathroom. The other one is too close to Adam’s room, and I don’t want him to wake up.”
Lathering his hair in lice shampoo wasn’t a terrible idea. She opened the door to her room, and gestured in the direction of her en-suite bathroom. He did a quick scan of the area, with a queen sized bed, a dresser filled with make up items and some more Legos and even a couple of awards. Several frames hanged over the nightstand.
Several unlit candles, and those smelly plug-in things his housekeepers bought at the supermarket, filled her bathroom. The walls were a light, minty green, with a pink pattern.
She turned on the dimming light that shone over the tub rather than the little flower shaped lamps over the sink. “Take off your shirt. You don’t want this stuff to stain your clothes.”
He pulled the shirt over his head, rolled it into a ball and tossed it on the floor. When he’d pictured himself half-naked with Roxie, the imagery had been completely different.
She pointed at the garden tub. “Sit down on the edge.”
To dispel the tension, he chuckled. “Okay, boss.”
“You will thank me later.”
He glanced at her breasts, straining against her cotton tank top as she lathered the shampoo on her hand and applied it in his hair. In a way, he was already thankful. Desire arrowed down in his body, the oxygen in his brain shortening as his balls heaved.
“Close your eyes and pull your head back.” She gently put his head against the shower stall. He felt something rough on his eyes. A towel.
She kneaded her fingers into his hair, and a minty cool sensation flooded his scalp.
He could almost relax, if his body wasn’t so fired up for her. She massaged his hair, her fingers kneading his scalp. He squared his shoulders. His erection popped up.
“Now all you need is to leave it on for ten minutes.”
Ten. Minutes. What would he do to kill time?
Time he’d spend inside her bathroom surrounded by her most intimate stuff. He coughed. Better to get this act straight. “Tell me about your ex husband” he demanded, possibly the most cock-blocking topic he could come up with. But, damn it, he would use it for now. Anything to keep his needy hands from outlining her curves, and his tongue from tracing over her flesh. His shaft responded to those thoughts with one hard throb at the tip of his cock.
She sat the shampoo on the counter and turned to him, leaning against the edge of the vanity. “What can I say that won’t make me sound bitter? Charlie was a lot of fun, but marrying him wasn’t as much fun. He tried, but commitment wasn’t his forte,” she said, and behind that no doubt calculated speech lay sadness and bitterness. “Some guys can’t commit I guess. I mean just look at you.”
The pulse at his neck jumped. Was she comparing him to her ex? “I don’t cheat, and I would never marry someone with the intention of cheating,” he said truthfully.
“Would you ever marry?” She lifted her chin. “Let me rephrase, have you ever been married?”
He lifted his hand to run in through his hair, but half-way remembered his hair was lathered in some tea tree mint junk so he settled for rubbing the back of his neck to work out some of the tension. “I’ve never gotten married. My mom did it three times, so I don’t know how I feel about it.” He cursed himself inwardly. He knew exactly how to feel—he didn’t hate the institution, but never really settled anywhere long enough to make a priority. And maybe never would. So why did those words get trapped in his throat when he gazed at Roxy, and her eyes carried a message he couldn’t decode?
“I understand. I was so in love with the idea of getting married that I didn’t really see what was right in front of me.”
Restless, he surged to his feet. “What was it?”
She shook her head. “He was a cheating bastard and I would never be enough for him.”
Stefano’s gut clenched. A cold sensation swept through him, and he wished he could punch someone who didn’t value being with Roxie. Kind, funny and wonderful. Sexy as hell. He stared into her eyes, and lifted up her chin. “How can you not be enough for anyone?”
Chapter 5
Roxie sucked in a breath. She hadn’t been enough for Stefano either, had she? He’d used his time at whatever the youth ranch he got sent to as an excuse to never search for her again. Had he even known what she’d done so Donny wouldn’t press? Probably not, otherwise he would have mentioned it. Take it off of your mind. It’ll only bring resentment.
She focused on the here and now. His eyes radiated warmth and desire. She should just let him be and leave him to his own devices. He knew how to wash his hair, for crying out loud. Then why was she there? Why were her feet grounded like tree roots?
He was gorgeous—which should be enough to kick him out of her place. Sure, he had eyes that weakened her knees, and a body made for dirty, sweaty, shameless sex. But shouldn’t she be beyond all that? She, Roxie Sullivan, a single mom with no time for bullshit, and no time to warm the sheets of the man who was a liability to her job—and her heart.
He traced a long, light brown finger along her jaw. “You know, we never talked about that night.” His voice deepened, with that delish Cuban accent lingering and melting her bones one by one.
“What do you mean?” She needed to buy herself some t
ime. She slipped out her tongue and licked her lips, desperate to give her dry mouth some relief. Screwing her best friend had been a mistake; now they were boss and employee, and the mistake would have even worse consequences. Because he wasn’t the kind of guy who stuck around. He wasn’t the kind of guy she needed.
“Why did you sleep with me, Roxie?”
She studied his face, and her stomach dropped to the floor. When he had a semi-frown on his handsome face, and that mocking glint vanished from his stance, he was even hotter. And dangerous. Especially dangerous. “I guess I was mad at Donny.” And attracted to you. And drunk enough to act recklessly.
“And you gave me your virginity?”
She fiddled with her necklace. She had wanted to get back at Donny who had broken up with her because she wouldn’t have sex with him at the time. Not her finest moment. “So?”
“You said it was pretty crappy.”
She chewed on her lower lip, trying to escape his gaze, but not managing to. How else could she have described it? She had been young, inexperienced and plain dumb. “Wouldn’t you agree? There’s no need to reminisce anyway.”
“Are you sure?” He leaned into her, and every centimeter his face dipped closer, her heart thumped one beat faster. Harder.
“I…” she started, clinging to the last thread of reluctance. Her voice caught in her throat, and her breath wasn’t far behind.
God. “No,” she said, her voice raspy. Wasn’t that the truth?
He brushed her lips with his, the simple caress setting a jolt of awareness through her. Her sex clenched, and she stood on her tiptoes, wishing she could fast forward to the part they were naked in bed.
He groaned, and when she lifted her hand to feel his hard chest, she palmed his heart. It beat madly.
She moaned, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Thankfully he pulled her into him, otherwise she would have faltered. “I think… you need to rinse your hair soon. Otherwise…” she said, between kisses. He pulled her into the shower stall, both of them still clothed.