Sam
“Yo, Boss Lady!”
I hadn’t even put my pickup truck in park before my team lead, Barney, was at my side bellowing through my window. I turned off the truck and got out of the car before I responded.
“What’s up, Barney?”
“Not sure if you saw it, but we’re gonna have some help today.”
I could tell by the look on his face this was not good news. We were already behind schedule on the renovation of this giant Victorian mansion, we didn’t need any more delays.
“The company agreed to take on some community service volunteers and we’re getting’ one.”
I frowned. “Community service?”
“Yeah it’s like people who got arrested for something and instead of going to jail they gotta do good shit in the community like workin’ with puppies or teaching kids to read.”
I looked around to see if there were cameras on me. Maybe I was being punked?
“Are you saying that management is sending us criminals to do the restoration work on this project?”
“Yep.”
“Does the union know about this?” I asked as I grabbed my tool belt and snapped it around my waist.
“Yeah, they think it’s a good idea. I already talked to the steward.”
“Damn it. This has disaster written all over it,” I grumbled.
“Yep.”
“Well, there’s no arguing with management, so I guess we’ll just have to suck it up.”
Hopefully the guy knew his way around a hammer.
“Yep.”
Barney was a man of few words.
“All right, let’s get to work then.”
I turned as I heard the sound of gravel spraying behind me on the private road. A cherry red sports car skidded to a stop beside the assortment of pick-ups and work trucks in the makeshift parking lot we’d created. It was a Porsche.
No one had purchased this place yet so whoever this was, they must be lost. I headed towards the car.
“Did you take a wrong turn?” I called.
A woman stepped out of the car and my breath stuttered in my chest. She was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. Long blonde hair hung in waves past her shoulders, every strand perfectly styled. Her skin was like porcelain, not a single flaw. Wide brown eyes were framed with what had to be lash extensions, because no one had eyelashes like that in real life.
“Hi, I’m Olivia Laurent.”
She said her last name in what I was sure what a perfect French accent.
I couldn’t resist checking out the rest of her. She was wearing a white button down shirt which strained a bit across her generous breasts, tucked into a belt in the front and hanging loose in the back, and dark washed designer-looking jeans that hugged her slim hips and legs, and highlighting one of those thigh gaps that skinny woman were always so proud of.
Normally I liked women with a little more meat on their bones, but there was something about her that made my body perk up…
Then I looked down at her shoes. What the hell? I couldn’t even describe them. It was like a pair of Chucks had a one night stand with a pair of stilettos, producing a high-heeled pink monstrosity that absolutely was not appropriate to wear at my construction site.
