Page 16 of Keeping Denver

I don't bother trying to negotiate. Pushing myself away from the wall, I shoulder past the woman. I have no one to blame but myself. I was the one naive enough to believe in a stranger, and in the end, I paid the price. I learned a valuable lesson today. Number one, you can't trust people and number two, karma is a bitch. This is the universe paying me back for being a thief myself.

I walk in a haze back to the subway station, my mind racing. I bump into a few people on the street who reward me with dirty looks. I don't have it in me to care or say excuse me. By the time I make it back to the subway, I realize my hands are empty. Shit. I left the air mattress back at the apartment, or dropped it somewhere. I contemplate going back for it because that's thirty bucks I can get back returning it to the store, but quickly squash that idea. Someone would have swiped it by now.

Pulling my coat tighter around my body as I try to fend off the blistering cold, I step out of the subway onto the busy city streets. The hour-long ride has done little to calm my despair. I was supposed to be spending my first night in my new home. Instead, I am headed back to the shelter.

"Denver." Lucy rushes up to me the moment, and I step inside. "Are you okay? She looks me over. "What happened? I thought you were moving into your apartment today."

I wipe the tears from my face. "I was. But it turns out the guy I met with yesterday was not the apartment manager. He was just some guy who had been living there and was being kicked out. He placed a fake ad online. He took my money and is gone. I found out all this from the woman who is the actual manager."

"Oh, no. Denver, I'm so sorry. Does this woman know where you can find the man? Have you thought about going to the police? I can go with you if you want."

I shake my head. "Harold is long gone. I don't see the cops being able to do much. There is no telling how long it would take to track him down."

"It's still worth a try. Don't you think? Maybe the cops can find him and get some of your money back."

"No. I want to lay down and forget how stupid I was to believe my luck had turned around. I'm tired and I have work tomorrow."

"Alright." Lucy sighs in defeat. "Promise me you'll let me know if you change your mind about going to the cops."

Later that night, I toss and turn on the cot. The tears have stopped, but my eyes feel swollen and scratchy. I just hope I don't look a mess for work in the morning. Taking a shuttered breath, I close my eyes. There is no sense in dwelling on what can't be changed. I lost almost all my money and what was to be a new start. But I still have a job. I'll keep working and keep saving. In a couple of weeks, I'll find another place to stay. Tomorrow is a new day.

8

"Miss Hollis!" Mr. Hawk yells from his office Monday afternoon. Not only did I get little to no sleep last night, but Mr. Hawk is especially grumpy today. So, you can imagine my ill mood, pared with his, was a cause for our constant head butting. Mine from the disastrous weekend, and being swindled out of my hard-earned money and his probably due to the fact he is working diligently on the Dennis case while preparing for court on another. We did get a bit of good news this morning. The judge granted Mrs. Dennis child support. He also ordered her soon to be ex-husband to pay two months back child support.

Getting out of my seat, I make my way to the open doorway of Mr. Hawk's office. "Sir?"

He looks up from a stack of papers on his desk, his green eyes narrow to slits. "Where are the medical reports on the Braxton case? I told you this morning to put them on my desk."

The Braxton case has been a tough one. It turns out, Mrs. Braxton had been a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of her husband through the course of their marriage. She was smart enough to keep medical records every time she visited the ER. Those records will be vital when the case goes to court. I happened to take a peek at the files before placing them on Mr. Hawk's desk. My heart aches for what Mrs. Braxton has gone through. I hope Mr. Hawk buries her husband in court, although hell would be a better punishment.

"Yes, Sir. I put it on your desk first thing this morning."

He shuffles through the papers on his desk. "It's not here."

Sighing, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying not to say something I'll regret. I've gotten used to my boss being a prickly asshole, but he's seriously testing my limits today. Walking across his office, I stop in front of his desk, lean over, and pick up the report, which was right in front of him. When I cast my eyes up, I find Mr. Hawk's trained on my chest. The top button on my blouse got snagged on my coat this morning and popped off. I meant to find a safety pin to hold the top in place. And right now, my boss is getting a good look at my generous cleavage. My skin tingles, and my nipples harden to pebbles under his heated appraisal of my breasts. There is no denying the effect the man is having on my body. A growl vibrates within Mr. Hawk's chest when his eyes shift to the hard peaks showing through the material of my top.

"Here you go, " I say, my throat tight with lust.

When Mr. Hawk finally rips his gaze away from my breasts and up to my face, I decide it is time to abort. Without another word, I turn on my heel and scurry back to my desk.

I spend the next thirty minutes analyzing what just happened between the two of us, and concluded Mr. Hawk is like any other man—momentarily boob drunk.

After delivering some paperwork to Frances down the hall, I'm met by a tall man standing at my desk with his back to me. "Can I help you?"

He turns, and I am met by the second most devastatingly handsome man I have ever seen. This guy stands well over six feet, has red hair, grey eyes, and a few days' worth of stubble on his face. The man doesn't hide the way his eyes rake up and down my body. I don't know why he's bothering to look. I'm wearing one of the outfits I got from the donation bin at the shelter. Today my attire consists of a pair of brown slacks and a boxy cream color button-up blouse that is about two sizes too big aside from the boob area. I wasn't lying when I said the clothes were outdated. I'm wearing something straight from the eighties. My hair is pulled back in its usual braid and there isn't a stitch of makeup on my face. You would think by the panty-melting grin taking over the stranger's face, I was his dessert.

"You must be Denver?"

I recognize the voice instantly. This is the guy I spoke to my first week here, the one, my boss accused me of flirting with.

"I am. And you're Spencer Knight," I address him in a bored tone since he told Mr. Hawk I was flirting with him. I’m tempted to say go to hell, but don't want to risk losing my job.

"That I am, sweetheart."

"Mr. Hawk is in his office. You can go on in."

"How about I stay here and visit with you, sweet Denver," Spencer says as he perches himself on the edge of my desk, making me glare up at him.