Chapter 2
Keeton
Growling at the computer that won’t do what the fuck I want it to do, I hear a knock on my office door. “It’d better be good,” I shout into the air.
“Oh, it is, brother,” comes a voice from the other side. A voice I recognize.
“It’s open.”
I hear the door click open and my little brother Eric steps in, shutting the door quickly. “Someone’s here to do an interview.”
I blink a few times. “What? I didn’t agree to any interviews.” I’m going to kill (or fire) our PR firm. “I don’t have time. I’m trying to sort out Molly’s bookkeeping shit. Her way of doing things makes no sense to me. I’m fucking it all up. When she gets back…”
“Ifshe comes back.”
“Don’t say it.” My little sister better not bail on us here. “Whenshe comes back from maternity leave, she’s going to be pissed.”
“Which is why she may not come back. She’ll see all the damage you’ve caused and…”
“Hey. It’s not just me,Eric.” Eric has been in here digging through shit, leaving papers and invoices strewn everywhere. It’s not just me.
Eric sighs. “Anyway, you’re gonna want to talk to this one.”
I run my fingers over the top of my head. I miss my hair. I got a burr up my ass last weekend and cut it all off. I’d grown it out halfway to my ass, but it was annoying me. My regret is offset by the knowledge that I donated it all.Thatwas worth it. Besides, I’ve still got a couple of inches of hair on the top, but the sides are short as hell. “Why do I want to talk to this one? Enlighten me.”
“You’re going to like her.”
“Like her?”
“She’s just your type.”
“I don’t have a type.” Not anymore. Women are trouble and a pain in my ass. My sister Molly and my ex-wife, Deb are the exception. I’ll cut Molly some slack, and not because she’s my sister. She’s had it rough and she’s weathered it like a champ. As for Deb? She’s always been cool. A better friend than a wife, for sure.
“You will after you see her.”
“Jesus, Eric. Just send her in.” I need to see what he’s talking about. He’s full of shit most of the time but at twenty-five, he’s still too young to know better. I sit stock still at Molly’s desk that is no longer neat and tidy like Molly likes it. Yeah, she’s going to kill us.
Eric steps out into the hallway and calls out, “Hey, sweetheart, you can come back here now.”
When I hear the click-clack of lady’s shoes, I look up and see her. Well, damn. I start at the prissy pink shoes and let my eyes travel up her legs. She’s got great fucking legs. At her knees, a blue skirt with pink polka dots appears. I follow that up past wide hips and a belt that is cinching her in at the middle. The belt might be too tight since there’s extra curves just above it. Her chest, damn, her chest is spectacular. I can’t see any cleavage because she’s got her top buttoned almost all the way up to her neck. The top is blue to match the skirt, with fluffy short sleeves. She reminds me of a woman from the 50s. Well, pictures of women from the 50s. I linger another second on her chest and move up to her face. My breath catches. Goddamn she’s pretty. Her hair is dark. I usually go for blondes, so Eric was wrong about that part. Everything else, though, yeah. Fuck yeah. Her dark hair is short, hitting her just below her ear. There are big curls and waves that look as soft as her skin; she keeps it all neatly tucked behind her ears. It looks thick and shiny but that’s not the appealing part. It’s her, well, her entire face looks like it came off an angel. Full, dark pink lips. A dainty nose between big eyes, that look to be hazel from here. I can’t quite make out the color due to her thick glasses. I stand and raise my hand to shake hers. “Keeton Gustafson.”
She blinks at me, giving me a small smile. Raising her hand, she takes mine and shakes quickly, returning her tiny hand back to her side, “Lainie Palmer-Bottoms.”
Palm her bottom?That’s got to be a joke. “Lainie Palmer-Bottoms? Really?”
“Yes. Why?”
“That’s a mouthful.” Oh, yeah, she is.
“Well, Bottoms is my married name. Or itwas,when I was married. I hyphenated my maiden name, so it wasn’t forgotten. You know, when or if… Anyway, I’m thinking about dropping the last name. You know? The divorce is fairly recent. So, um, yeah.”
I watch as she fidgets in her spot. She’s nervous. “Are you new at this job?” I can’t believe they’d send a rookie to interview me. It’s sort of insulting.
She rolls her eyes. “So new. You can tell?”
“You seem nervous.”
“I am. I’m sorry.” She looks down at the piles of papers on Molly’s desk. “Oh, you look busy. I can come back another time.”
