by Mazzy King
I glance across the table at him. He pulls his lower lip from between his teeth, his green eyes smoldering in the dim dining light.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
The voice makes me jump in my seat. I swivel my head to the side. My father smiles down at me, placing a light hand on my shoulder, before turning his penetrating stare to Colin.
There’s a weird beat of silence where they just study each other, so I blurt, “Daddy, this is Colin Smith. He’s our new maintenance technician.”
Colin stands and extends his hand. “You must be Mr. Whisler. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
My father slowly grasps his hand. “Eh, you too, Colin. I was sorry I was unable to get down to HR to meet you in person. Today was your first day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how did everything go?” My father smiles politely, but his stare is unwavering.
“It was very enlightening,” Colin replies.
“That’s good to hear.” Daddy gives him a smile, then turns to me. “Finishing dinner?”
“All done,” I reply, rising. “I kept Colin here late giving him a tour, and we decided to grab a bite, since we were both starving.”
“Ah.” Daddy smiles, but he doesn’t look thrilled. Then he reaches down to pick up the tab the server left us. “Let me take care of this.”
“Oh, no, sir,” Colin interjects.
“I insist. Welcome to the club, Colin.” Then he turns to me. “Could I see you for a moment?”
Feeling like I’m in trouble for something, I follow him toward the host stand, where he instructs the host to put our bill on his personal tab.
“Henny,” Dad says, “you might want to…think about how it looks for you—my daughter—to be dining with the maintenance man.”
I fold my arms. “Why’s that, Dad?”
He tilts his head. “Come on, honey.”
“No.” I jut my chin. “I was being a friendly co-worker. Anyone deserves that.”
“Honey.” He lifts a brow. “You’re a beautiful young woman. He’s a handsome young man. It doesn’t take rocket science to understand what’s going on. But I think it presents complications being that you’re both employees here. And especially you—you’re not just an employee, you’re the general manager.”
I tighten my jaw. “Oh? And if he were one of the silver-spoon douches who lives on the golf course and drops mortgage money in the pro shop?”
“Hendrix,” Daddy hisses, glancing around. “Just trust me on this one, please. There are plenty of other perfectly nice, well-to-do young men who would be much better suited for you.”
Now’s not the time, but I ache to tell my father I don’t want perfectly nice. I don’t even want well-to-do, necessarily. I’ve seen “perfectly nice, well-to-do” young men around here. All they want to do is talk about their Bentleys and their Teslas and name-drop the politicians their daddies know. All they want is to use me to try to get to my dad and his contacts—senators, the governor, local billionaires.
I want exciting, gruff. A little rough around the edges. A bad boy with a heart of gold.
A guy who can make me laugh, tease me, make me blush. A guy with bright green eyes and a smile that makes every single part of me tingle.
I cut a glance over at Colin. He’s still standing by the table, watching us. When our eyes meet, he gives me a little one-sided smile that makes my heart pound.
Stay away from him?
My father might as well have asked me to build a new golf course with my own two hands instead.
Colin
Whoops. I’m in trouble.
Again.
It’s not like I didn’t know exactly who Hendrix was. I knew who she was before I even started working at the country club. It wasn’t like our little dinner at the club was a date. I mean, not a real one. But with the eye-murdering Mr. Whisler was doing to me during his little chat with Hendrix, it’s clear he does not like seeing us together.
Hendrix comes back to the table to retrieve her purse. She gives me a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, I’m taking off for the night,” she says lightly. “It was nice meeting you today, Colin. Have a good night.”
I sigh inwardly. She’s being perfectly nice and polite, and that’s the problem. The flirty, snarky irreverence I had a front seat to fifteen minutes ago is gone, and the professional businesswoman is back.
Still, her dad is watching. Very closely.
“Thank you,” I say. “Have a great night.”
I’m going to see you tomorrow, if I have to break your office window to do it.
Hendrix gives me another small smile, then turns and heads out of the restaurant after pecking her father on the cheek.
Once she’s gone, Mr. Whisler beckons to me.
Here we go.
I join him out in the lobby. “Problem, sir?”
“You are not to hang around my daughter,” he hisses. “For any reason other than to fix something.”
I fold my arms. “Is this because you know my background? My record? The fact that I’m the maintenance guy and she’s a wealthy country club manager?”
“You’re here to uncover a drug dealer, for Christ’s sake,” he exclaims under his breath. A few people are in the lobby with us. “You think I want her mixed up in something like that? That might be par for the course for you, but it’s not around here.”
I narrow my eyes. “It’s not par for the course for me, either. I took the fall for my friend so he could keep his fellowship. I’ve never done a drug in my entire life. I barely drink.”
“Then that means you have questionable friends and you make poor decisions,” Mr. Whisler says tightly. “Either way, Hendrix has no room for that in her life. She needs someone with his head on straight who makes good choices in life.”
“And apparently someone who never makes mistakes.”
“Mistakes are fine,” he replies. “Bad decisions aren’t. Now, don’t get me wrong, Colin. I appreciate what you’re here to do. I want this issue stamped out in my club. I understand it takes someone very smart and brave to do that, and your father assures me that’s you. But spending time with my daughter is not a perk of this job. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply flatly.
Do I understand him? Sure.
But understanding and obeying are two different things.
4
Hendrix
Ten days later
I walk quickly in my heels toward my office, lips pressed together as I try to hold back the eager smile tugging at my lips and project a cool, calm front.
I walk through the main building of the country club campus, smiling and nodding at the guests and employees I pass. Then I rush the last few steps to my door and hurry inside.
The note is laying on my keyboard.
Coffee break, 10 a.m., pool.
Most mornings for almost two weeks, Colin and I have been “secretly” meeting throughout the day. The location and time always changes, but we haven’t missed a day since the first morning I found a note on my desk.
Dad’s been in his office more than usual and always seems to make a point to come down and visit me, so the notes have been a necessity—not to mention, being kind of fun and giving me something to look forward to each day. I keep waiting for Colin to ask me out on a real date, but he hasn’t yet. Either he’s really busy after work, or…
He already has a girlfriend and he’s being a dick?
I wince. I’ve been considering asking him out myself, but I always seem to lose my nerve. I’ve been out of the dating game since college. Most of the guys I meet leave a bad impression, so I’ve gotten used to turning down requests for dates. Now, the first time I meet a guy I’d like to date, my father not only disapproves, but I’m as shy as a sixth grader with her first crush.
Do I ask Colin myself? Should I ask if he’s seeing anyone? Would that ruin our vibe? Our brief chats have run the gamut from fun and lighthe
arted to more serious and deep, but we’re friends. I think he’d like to be more than friends, but I don’t know for sure.
And I think he’s single…but guys are assholes who’ll lie to get what they want. I do know that for sure.
At any rate—I’m going to meet him at ten, and it can’t get here soon enough.
A quarter to, I poke my head into Daddy’s office, where he’s on the phone having what looks to be a quiet but intense conversation. He looks up at me as I stick my head in the door.
“I’m heading down to check on the pool and spa,” I say softly so as not to disturb him.
He nods distractedly, blows me a kiss, and returns to his call.
The pool’s got a decent number of sunbathers and swimmers this morning, mostly retired people or stay-at-home moms whose kids are old enough to be left alone or who have other activities going on. I greet them as I pass, heading for a little space behind the outdoor, poolside café, concealed from the eyes of everyone in the area.
When we meet near the pool, this is our spot.
Colin’s already there, with two cups of what look like smoothies. He holds one out to me. “For you, milady.”
I giggle, taking it. “Thanks. What is this?”
“A tropical punch smoothie.” He takes a sip and makes an impressed face. “Damn good.”
I take a sip of my own, enjoying the cold refreshment. It’s much better than coffee on a hot day like this.
“So. How are you? How’s gala planning?” He smiles.
“Gala planning is steady, and things are coming together finally. It’s hard to believe that it’s all happening in two days.” I shake my head. Today’s Thursday, and the gala is set for Saturday night. I’m equal parts excited and a wreck.
“I’m sure it’s going to be amazing,” he says sincerely. “You are taking a date, right?”
“Ah, I don’t know. But…” Now or never! “Actually, um…I was wondering about something.”
Colin’s face becomes alert. “What’s that?”
There’s no trace of humor in his expression. It’s so surprising, I just stare at him for a beat. “I, uh… Well, we’ve been hanging out, kind of, for a couple of weeks now, and I just wondered if you, um, wanted to maybe hang out off the grounds sometime.”
His face relaxes, but he lifts his brows. “You mean a date?”
I blush. “Well, I suppose there are only so many words to describe it, but…yes.”
“Your dad wouldn’t like that.” He smiles.
“Well, no shit,” I say impatiently. “I thought that was the whole reason we’ve been doing this.”
Colin chuckles.
“Unless you’re busy,” I hedge. “Or…you have a girlfriend. Because if you do, that’s okay.”
“Hendrix, I don’t—”
“I just want to know,” I blurt. “It’s okay if you do, but I don’t like sharing. Most women don’t. And I don’t like lying dicks, either. If that’s the case, I want to know. Because I like you, Colin. I like you a lot. And I don’t want to end up liking you more and then finding out you have—”
Without warning, he pulls me into his arms. His hands are gentle but sure as they press me close, then slide up my arms to cup my face. He angles his head and then his lips are on mine.
The kiss lingers. When we break, it’s only for a second before he kisses me again. This time I slide my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close, and part my lips. The tip of his tongue slides into my mouth, cold and sweet from the smoothie.
“I don’t,” he whispers when he pulls away, “have a girlfriend. I don’t like sharing either. I’m not a lying dick. And I like you a hell of a lot too. And yes, Hendrix…” He kisses me gently. “Yes, I absolutely want to go on a real date with you.”
It’s hard to form words. I’m still drunk from his kisses. Mutely, I nod, gazing up into his eyes. My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I’ve liked guys before in the past. But I’ve never wanted one, truly wanted one with every cell in my body.
Until now.
“God,” he murmurs, running his thumb along my jaw. “Now I don’t want to go back to work.”
“Me either.” My words are swallowed as he captures my lips again and again. I place my hand on his chest and feel it pound.
He takes a deep breath and then steps back from me, but his eyes are green fire. “We’re going to finish our smoothies like a good little girl and boy, and then we’re going to go back to work.”
I take my outstretched cup from him with a smile, feeling my own heart slamming in my chest. “It’ll be awkward, since I can’t remember my own name.”
“Ah, I remember it. It’s Beautiful.”
I shake my head. “Corny.”
“You want to be called Corny?”
I give him a little push, and he chuckles. We finish our smoothies quickly, gazing at each other.
“You leave first,” he whispers.
I nod. “Okay.”
Before I step away, he catches my hand and pulls me close again. “One more for the road.”
I walk toward the spa, feeling like I’m floating on air. That’s corny, but it’s true. Colin and I are going on a real date and I couldn’t be more excited.
“What are you, sixteen?” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.
I poke my head inside the spa and say hi to the employees at the reception desk. No one seems to need anything, so I head for the ladies’ lounge to make sure it’s tidy and that there are plenty of towels and toiletries.
It looks like cleaning services have already been through here—everything looks great. I make a mental note to commend the team lead on the excellent work.
I’ve just finished my circuit and am starting to walk back to the entrance when I hear a loud, sharp sniffing noise coming from the other side of the bank of wooden lockers to the left of me.
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” a low voice asks.
“Oh, my God,” another woman says with a quiet moan. “That’s better than anything I’ve had before.” Another sharp sniff cuts through the air. “Where does he get this shit?”
“He’ll never say. That’s why he can charge so much for it.”
My heart starts pounding. I can be sort of naïve sometimes, thanks to my sheltered upbringing. And this is a country club, for crying out loud. But instinct tells me these women aren’t talking about designer handbags.
“Can you tell him to get me a gram?” the second woman says in a low murmur. “I’ll pay whatever he asks.”
“Good, ’cause he charges five hundred a gram—for repeat customers. Newbies pay a grand.”
“Then you buy it for me, and I’ll pay you back.”
“All right. Have the money at the gala, all right? He’s going to be conducting…business there.”
What do I do? Do I jump around the corner and yell “Gotcha”? Do I call the police? Do I tell my dad?
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket with a buzzing sound. A loud buzzing sound.
The two women go silent for a second.
“Someone’s here,” the first woman hisses.
Shit. I’m not prepared for this. I’m flustered, and I have no idea what to do.
So I turn and bolt.
You know—like a coward.
I keep running until I reach a short corridor well away from the women’s locker room. I pace, cursing. “Fuck. What do I do?”
My phone vibrates again. A call from the pro shop.
“Hello,” I answer, a little breathlessly.
“Hendrix?” a man says. “Hey. It’s Julian from the pro shop. Sorry to bother you, but we’ve been having some issues with the lights. Do you think you could get maintenance to come down and take a look?”
“Ah, yeah, of course,” I say, cupping my forehead. “I’ll let him know right away.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Sure.” I hang up with him and blow out a breath, then send a text to Colin’s work cell phone he received the second day o
f his employment.
On it, he replies.
It’s nice to know he’s got his shit together when I’m falling to pieces.
5
Colin
I head to the pro shop after Hendrix’s text message, toting a ladder. Part of me hoped she would use some flirtier words than “the pro shop needs help” after the amazing kisses we shared earlier, but, after all, this is my work phone and we are at work. I suppose one of us should be professional.
Then again, as I replay those secret, deep kisses behind the poolside café, who gives a fuck about professionalism?
The past couple of weeks at the club have been fruitless. It’s clear there are people using, but I haven’t been able to suss out any information that’s actually concrete and helpful. In between gigs around the club, I spend a lot of time in the locker room, eavesdropping.
My dad and Dominic warned me it might take a while. I’m learning I don’t have much patience.
Inside the pro shop, I see one of the overhead lights is rapidly flickering. The young guy behind the counter is helping a customer, but nods to me as I walk in. I lift a hand in reply, then set up the ladder under the lighting fixture. After examining it for a moment, I reach for some tools on my belt.
A few minutes later, the customer leaves, and the guy behind the counter saunters over, leaning against a display shelf.
“Please tell me that’s not as simple as just switching the lightbulb,” he jokes. “My toxic masculinity will be so offended.”
I chuckle. “Nah, these bulbs are a little more complicated than that. You were right to call. I don’t have bulbs on me here, though. Needed to see what kind you use.” I climb off the ladder.
“You new here?” the guy asks. “I think I heard something about our last maintenance guy retiring.”
I swipe my palm on my pants before grasping his outstretched hand. “Yeah, just started a couple weeks ago. Colin. Colin Smith.”
The guy nods. He’s probably my age, with shaggy blond hair and a skinny frame. “Julian Kemp.”