And just like that, I know it won’t be like lunch with Mr. Anderson. His calm demeanor, steady voice, and respectful distance were a far cry from what I’ll face on Friday. Mr. Anderson was polite. Didn’t touch me. He was perfectly content talking about art, politics, and every other subject my father ensures I keep up to date with.
This time, I won’t be so lucky. After years of this, I can judge who I’ll be conquering based on my father’s instructions. Whoever his newest client (read: victim) is, he enjoys young women. Too young.
Illegal, hence two braids, no makeup, and the corset-styled red mini dress. It’s modest at first sight, but the semi-sheer panels and deep scoop neck make it very inappropriate, even for a woman with my cleavage. My small boobs look twice the size and almost bounce out with every step.
With a deep sigh, I text him back, before he has a fit.
Me: of course.
ELEVEN
Cody
ICAN’T SHAKE SUNDAY OUT OF MY HEAD.
Almost a week of replaying the look that crossed Blair’s pretty face when I pinned her against the wall. The surprise and twinge of arousal in her deep blue eyes. The softness of her skin. How fucking sad she was and how quickly that sadness melted away under my touch.
And damn... she looked so fucking good in my hoodie. So damn sexy with her makeup smudged, hair disheveled, big eyes bright.
I shake off that thought. Girls always look super hot in their boyfriend’s clothes. Nothing extraordi—
A sudden onset of migraine splits my head in two.Boyfriend? Fuck. That’s not how I meant it. She just looked good in my hoodie. End of story. Period. Comma. What-fucking-ever.
The black, soft fabric swished around her thighs, hiding enough skin it could pass for a dress. A far more modest dress than the one she had on underneath... yes. Good thinking.That’s why I couldn’t stand the thought of Blair stripping off my hoodie. Because I’m a gentleman and didn’t want her flashing her firm butt at Brandon.
God, I’m so full of shit.
I know I’m toeing a line I cannot cross. I imagine things that should never enter my mind, but the more I fight the visuals, the more frequent they become. All because of that night when she came over to help with River. I saw a different side to Blair that night, and got a few more glimpses during the graduation party.
The uncertainty as she watched me, realizing my watch was in her small hand. The gratitude when instead of pouring her a full shot, I poured half.
I can’t stop thinking about how she felt, curled in my arms, when I carried her out of Brandon’s house. How my temper raged out of control knowing Alan had her alone in the closet.
Someone’s hands on her body shouldn’t bother me, but the mere idea of anyone touching her has me running around in fucking circles.
Sweat trickles down my temples, stinging my eyes as I sprint up the stairs, heart galloping in my chest. Every muscle in my body screams in agony, protesting the grueling day of construction work. Last summer’s gig under Logan’s watchful eye was a cakewalk compared to what I got myself into now.
I thought managing a team would be easier since I’d have hands on deck for heavy lifting while I delegate tasks.
Yeah... it doesn’t work like that.
Ninety percent of my team are newbies, clueless greenhorns with no idea what they’re doing. Logan insists on making me work my way up the ladder, just like he did.
And I get it.
I’ve had enough handed to me on a silver platter, and my career is something I want to earn. But I never anticipated how challenging it’d be to train my team while trying to manage everything else.
I have skilled workers specializing in plastering, tiling, and bricklaying, but they’re not there to handle the grunt work. That’s the young guys’ job and most of them are either college dropouts or fresh out of high school.
As they grapple with the ins and outs of construction work, I hold their hands at every turn. I work my ass off, teaching as I go. Three months of hard work with Logan and three years of construction management classes in college are finally paying off.
I may be young but I can teach these guys a thing or two.
Once they get the hang of things, it’ll get easier. But for now, I’m drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, and every inch of my body aches. A bath and a few cold beers have been calling my name for three hours now.
With that goal in mind, I climb the last flight of stairs to my condo. As soon as I emerge in the corridor, I stride with purpose, key in hand.
And I’m gritting my teeth, pushing down the sudden prickle of annoyance.
