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She’s an older, African-American lady who loves it when I do work here. Says I have muscles for days.

She’s sweet. Harmless.

Not like Margo Reyes.

She’s dangerous. And not because she’s hot, even though she is. Because she’s somebody I could see myself actually liking.

She brought herself up from nothing, her profile says.

Margo came from the dirt, like me.

And she’s come so far. So young.

Her age had been the one thing that had made me hesitate. She’s just starting out life, and I’m halfway through it at nearly forty. But she’s accomplished so much.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. Not like that, anyway. Not wondering what those brown eyes look like rolled back into her head.

But she’s so fucking beautiful. Those bright brown eyes, pouty mouth. All that dark hair.

And the way she’s built… Christ. She isn’t some fragile, delicate thing a guy has to handle with kid gloves. She’s soft and thick in all the right places, carrying the kind of lush, heavy curves that a working man wants to sink his hands into.

Just the thought of wrapping my arms around that waist and pulling all that softness flush against me makes my jaw clench.

It’s not terribly surprising that she called me for groundskeeping work. I’m the only one based in Garland Falls, after all, and Sugar & Coal only opened last year.

Craig answers on the third ring.

“Yeah, boss?”

“I need a ride.”

“Alright. Where are you?”

“Cole’s penthouse.”

“Tied one on?”

“A little.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

I walk around the perimeter of the building, thinking I should really talk to Cole about sprucing up these shrubs.

Craig arrives in his red pickup truck and I hop in the passenger side.

Craig Weathers is my partner. Cole had offered to provide all the startup money but I’d refused. Craig went in half with me. He still owns a share of the business, and he’ll take over if I ever retire.

I like the outdoors. Like the sounds of machinery whirring as I cut grass or prune branches. The sun beating down on my shoulders.

I might do this until my bones won’t let me.

“Where to?” Craig asks, like he’s a taxi service instead of my business partner.

“Home.”

Craig doesn’t speak on the way there. It’s one thing I like about him. He’s a man of few words, like me. Jack, one of the kids we just hired, talks my ear off every time he’s around.

I pretend to hate it, but a little chatter in the background while working isn’t such a bad thing.