by CC Monroe
We all wait a second, thinking about what he just said, and in unison, we burst out laughing.
“Daddy, you’re too much. I’m fine. I have Chrystal and her husband out there to take care of me, and if he gets too intense, I will tell Mr. Jeffs. He wouldn’t want a sexual harassment case on his son in his own company.”
“That boy wasn’t raised right; I will tell you that. No gentleman would act that way.” Mom’s insult seems to not only be steered to Parker, but also Mr. Jeffs.
“No, Mom, Mr. Jeffs is amazing. In fact, I’m sure he knows his son is a mess, but I also assume he is trying to shape him up a bit.”
“Doesn’t give him the right to not take no for an answer.”
Huffing, I place my hands on my hips. “Daddy. Listen, I got it. I don’t need a savior. Besides, I’m more excited about the job and more bummed about not seeing you guys for six months. Maybe you can come out and visit?”
They smile adoringly at me, a twinkle in their eyes as if I’m still a little girl.
“Of course, sweetie.”
“Good. Now, let’s finish packing and do a shot of tequila or two to celebrate my goodbye.” Tequila is my favorite drink, and I believe every special occasion, shit-talking session, or the occasional cry fest is only done right when served with a bottle of tequila.
The night goes by just as fast as it arrived, and before I know it, I’m in line to get on my plane. The rest of my group is standing around talking, Parker late per usual. Would it be wrong if I said a quick prayer that he doesn’t make it? Or Mr. Jeffs changed his mind and decided to keep the spoiled brat home?
“Hey, guys.” The devil himself must have burning ears when he walks up. Parker greets everyone, and of course I’m not given the same hello, high five, or simple wave. I’m given his grimy wink. Gross.
“All right, now that we are all here, let’s go ahead and quickly go over the budgets that you are each given daily for food and other per diem. I booked you all hotels, which we got the last rooms just in time. Mr. Jeffs wanted us to be comfortable, so he put us up in a nicer hotel. Make sure that we send thank yous.”
“I’m so excited!” Hanna, my second in command, exclaims.
“I agree.” A small smile forms on my lips as the rest of the team—Gordon, Denise, and Blair—concur. I don’t even bother looking at Parker. They call the flight then, and we resume our stance in line and board the plane.
New life, here I come!
“Ms. Marie we are so sorry for the double booking. Hanna’s room is not available; however, I can add a rollaway bed in your room until we have a guest check out.”
Remaining as calm as I can, I respond, “And when will that be?”
Clicking some keys on his keyboard, his eyes dance over the screen, and he clearly wears his next statement on his face.
“One week. This is the only hotel with five stars in this town. We are usually always booked. I’m so sorry, Ms. Marie.”
“You can give Hanna your room and you can stay with me. I have a king-sized bed,” Parker says behind me, and a shiver of revulsion runs up my spine.
I turn and sneer. “Not a chance, Parker. Hanna can take my room. I have friends in town that I can stay with until another room is available.”
Hanna immediately protests. “No, JJ. I can’t let you do that. I can find a motel in the area.”
Smiling sweetly, I wave her off. “No, it’s totally fine. My best friend from college lives here, and I’m sure she would die to have me.” Knowing all she has is a couch, I will have to figure out something later, but due to the delayed flights and missed connection fiasco, I just want to get somewhere and not put in the effort. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m. and we left at 7:00 a.m. I’ve been up since five, and the chair in the lobby is looking really good right now.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, knowing tomorrow I will most likely get a motel room down the road and just move on. I’m not a picky girl, nor a hoity-toity one at that. A motel is a motel. A bed, a shower, and WIFI. I don’t need much more.
“Yes. Now, head up and get some rest. Tomorrow, we have no plans, since it’s Sunday, but I would like to meet early on the site Monday morning, so don’t be late. Okay?”
“Not a chance, boss,” Gordon responds.
“Perfect. See you all then.” I wave them off, head outside the spinning door to the front of the hotel, and call Chrystal.
“Hello!”
“Hey! So sorry to bother you, but the hotel is overbooked, and I am too exhausted to look into hotels for tomorrow. You able to let me stay tonight? Any couch sounds wonderful.” I giggle half-heartedly.
“Of course, where are you?”
“I’m at the Ritz. Are you able to pick me up, or do I need to call an Uber?”
“Crap, we are over an hour out at my in-laws’ place. I don’t want you waiting there for an hour. Let me send one of Dominic’s buddies from the compound.”
“No way. I’m not letting a biker I don’t know pick me up with five suitcases. Yes, five.”
“I will tell Brew to bring his truck, and he’s awesome. A real gentleman. You’re safer with him than some random Uber driver.
That name throws me off a bit. “Brew? Like coffee? Beer?” I laugh.
“Don’t say that to him. He will literally make you ride in the bed of the truck.”
“Noted. All right, call him. Like I said, I’m too tired. Will he just drop me off?”
“No, you aren’t sitting outside our apartment for forty-five minutes. He can take you to his place, and we will head there in about fifteen minutes. Sound good?”
Looking around, I see Parker watching me from the window by the hotel bar. Seriously, does he not see how crazy he looks?
“Yeah, okay. That’s fine.” I would have groaned in protest, but Brew can’t be half as creepy as Parker.
Less than fifteen minutes pass when a black F-150, fully loaded—this I know, because my dad is a big car buff—pulls up right in front of me. The windows are too tinted, and the frame sits too high from the lifted wheels for me to see in. Going to pick up my suitcase, I’m stopped by a deep, gravelly voice.
“Darling, you don’t have to do that. I got it. Here, let me help you in.” Turning, I’m about to open my mouth to tell him I’m woman enough to take care of myself, when my words are completely stolen from me. Standing there is a rugged man with a buzz cut, beautiful honey eyes with long lashes, and six feet plus of pure male beauty. I’m talking man with a cabin he built in the woods with no tools, only his hands and skills.
“Uh, I… Um, okay. Thank you.” What the hell? What was that, JJ? Miss Independent. But then I look at the way his white fitted V-neck tee sticks to his muscles, and those faded blue jeans with a pair of biker boots…. No shit, I’m at a loss for words. They don’t make men like this in New York.
“I’m Brew. You must be JJ.”
I stammer a bit but finally get control. “How would you know? Poor girl could be waiting for her ride, and I’m just some psycho waiting for an unsuspecting guy like you to pick me up and then bam! I rob you.”
He smirks, and that’s when I see the dimple. Holy hell, a dimple and perfectly straight white teeth. Fuck me running.
“Well, Chrystal told me you would be the beautiful woman with long black hair and purple streaks. She also mentioned you might be a bit of a smartass. She wasn’t wrong about either, baby.”
Baby? I scoff and roll my eyes. There it is. A playboy behind the perfect façade. They do make these types of men in New York.
“Not your baby, but thanks for the ride.” I climb in, and I feel him looking me up and down. Usually when men do this, an urge to slap them and knee them in the groin comes over me. But him—I feel a tight ache in a place I shouldn’t, and it’s times like this I’m thankful I’m a woman and he can’t see my arousal.
This is going to be a long forty-five minutes.
Chapter Four
Brew
Beautiful, my fucking ass, Ch
rystal.
She’s sexy. Breathtaking. A goddamn vixen. And that is something no woman has ever made me say. Smartass—yes, and it drives me both mad and wild with arousal. The second she opened her plump lips and sassed me, I thought of her on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth as punishment.
No. Not going to happen. It’s just forty-five minutes and some change until Dominic and Chrystal come get her, and she can be a memory and that’s it. But fuck me, that memory might come to me when I’m getting off or wishing someone like her was beneath me with my cock buried deep in her plush heat. I bet her pussy matches her lips. Warm, wet, and fuckable.
Then there’s the rest of her. Pale skin, soft to the touch—at least it looks like it. Blue, penetrating eyes, like a siren, and she sure is tempting me, yet all she’s doing is sitting next to me, not saying a word as she checks emails on her phone. Her breasts. Perfect size for my hands, heavy-looking yet perky. Who the fuck sculpted this one?
“You’re moving here?” I finally break the silence. This gains her attention, and she locks her phone before looking up at me.
“No, here for business, just a short six-month stay.”
Both relieved and… angry that she said this? Angry, because… I don’t have a fucking clue. Relieved, because she won’t be around enough or long enough to tempt me to break my rule. No more crazy women.
“What type of business you in?”
“I’m an interior designer, and I’m working for the new housing development going up in town. The Homesteads? Heard of it?”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Did I do something in a past life to deserve this cruel punishment? Is my mom saying some prayers or doing some voodoo?
“Yes. I own the construction company that’s working the project.”
“No way. Well, it is a small world here in Tennessee.” JJ is different in the way she speaks, so confidently, with finesse, with grace yet sass.
“Actually, once we get into town, you will see it’s not so small. It was for a while, and it was also considered the not-so-safe parts,” I tell her.
“Really? Is that why they’re practically rebuilding the town?”
“Sure is. The mayor is building one housing development after another and new restaurants with fancy names and expensive menus. New hotels to get more tourists in. We only have a few rundown motels that the mayor plans to tear down.”
“Wow, seems like a big business opportunity for the town. Employment and all that good stuff.”
Tilting my head in partial agreement, I reply, “Some think so. The locals though, the ones who have been here a long time, for generations and generations, they aren’t too happy about big wigs and their town being torn down.”
“That’s true. I guess I’m so used to big cities and rebuilding that I don’t think about small towns and their history. New York is one of the many places, like Vegas, that tears down its history and makes a new one.”
“You got that right, baby. Welcome to it. New York, huh? You don’t have an accent.”
“Baby? That’s so cute. No. Is that a southern thing, or are you thinking I’m like all the girls in your town that probably fawn all over you and line up to be your next plaything? Because I’m not. Name’s JJ, Brew. You can call me that.”
Her response has me gripping the wheel and grinding my teeth. The backtalk. Fuck, it pisses me off but turns me on. I like a woman with a backbone. A woman who doesn’t need a man but lets one fuck her ‘til she’s raw and own her when she’s not trying to be all independent.
“I sure hope you aren’t,” I mumble.
“What was that?” she implores, unable to hear my quiet comment over the A/C and engine.
“Nothing. We’re here.” Pulling into my gravel driveway on the side of my house, I watch as she takes it in.
“Brew, this is beautiful. I didn’t peg you for a guy to have such an extravagant home. I mean, the details on the shutters and the trim, it’s beautiful. Modern day farmhouse, yet still has a masculine touch.” She talks about my home like it’s a work of art, and the alpha in me puffs his chest. That art she is admiring is mine. I built this house, and she is all but drooling over it.
“I’m a builder, JJ,” I say her name with emphasis. Since she was sassy about the word “baby.”
“You built this?” Whipping her head back to me, her jaw is lax with awe.
“Yes. I did. Now let’s go. I have five suitcases to carry inside.”
Rolling her eyes, she doesn’t sass me about helping; instead, she continues to look around and admire the house. She makes small comments here and there about the way certain things are curved or built or texture and color choices, but all I hear is this woman getting into my head, and I have to figure out how to shut that voice in my mind the hell up.
Setting down her luggage, I open the door to let us in, and if I thought she loved the outside, she about loses her marbles over the inside. Which, in all fairness, was all my mother. Not me. “Are you kidding me! This is stunning. I wish my place back home could look like this.”
Just like the outside, it’s a masculine take on a farmhouse style. I plan to sell it one day, since it’s too big for me and I have zero plans to settle down and fill it with children.
“Apartment?” I implore.
“Yep, one-bedroom, Lower East Side. My job pays well, but in New York, does anything ever pay enough?”
“Never been, but I’ve heard.”
“Chrystal. That’s right. She probably told you.” Stopping by the couch, she falls silent, looking around and anticipating me to say something.
“Hey. Listen, I have a guesthouse. It’s fully furnished, two bedrooms, kitchen, and a bathroom. You can stay there. The motels here are no good, and I don’t want you staying in one.” What the fuck just left my mouth? On what planet did my impulses decide they could take charge? I’m already planning a way to forget this girl, then I invite her to stay in my guesthouse not even thirty feet away, to tempt me.
That’s what she does to me. That’s what all this has been. I am lusting, hard. Raw, unfiltered desire and heated lust to not just make love with this woman, but to fuck her, to mate with her. I want her under me, screaming my name and losing what sass she has left in her.
Brew. Dude. What the fuck? I’m internally kicking my ass, stabbing my leg with a knife, and taking a bullet for offering her to stay and then for thinking about just how fucking bad I crave this girl I met an hour ago. Get it the fuck together, man. Digging deep, I turn off that switch in me that can’t seem to stay off around her. I need to be cold, or this is going to end up with a bad ending.
“Really? I mean, I would say no, but given everything you’ve told me—and to be honest, this place is an interior designer’s dream—I would like that. I can pay you monthly. They were charging me $408 a night at the hotel. I can pay you that?”
I scoff. “No, not happening. Consider it a favor for Chrystal and Dominic. He’s my best friend, and she would be thrilled to know you’re safe.”
“I can’t just stay here for free. I mean, that’s insane. I’m a stranger.”
“Yeah, so just don’t come in here and kill me in the middle of the night, and we will call it even. Deal?” The conversation is lighthearted, and it has me smiling, something I rarely do, especially with women. But they don’t make women like JJ here.
“Deal. But I know you’re a biker, so please don’t sneak in and kill me, and let me know when you have friends over. Drunk bikers can be dangerous, and I don’t want to risk—”
“No man will ever touch you,” I growl, cutting her off.
The thought of anyone touching her other than me in any way is maddening, but to mention being touched by others sexually who aren’t me—rampage. I could go on one. Visibly, she gulps, her eyes widening at my threat.
“Okay. I believe you.” There is a long pause filled with uncertainty on where to go next.
“I’ll take you out there and show you. There isn’t any food, but I
can take you into town to get you some groceries.”
“Sure. Sounds great.” Her mood has shifted. I don’t know if she’s scared, or if it’s something else. If it is, I can’t pin it.
The short walk from my back patio to the guesthouse is short and even quieter, knowing we’re both trying to feel each other out with nothing but the air shifting around us. Entering through the door, I usher her in, insisting she go first. She looks around, getting comfortable in the new space, setting her purse down and making sure I don’t need assistance with her extra luggage. With a shake of my head, she continues to look around. As she wanders to the bedroom with the attached bathroom, I stay in the living room, shutting the curtains as I check each latch to make sure the windows are locked, guaranteeing her safety. Why? I chalk it up to being a gentleman.
“There are towels in the linen closet just inside the bathroom next to the sink.” When she tosses her black hair with deep purples strands behind her shoulder, her piercing blue eyes hypnotize me, keeping me stuck in place.
“Thank you again for this, and I promise to be out of your hair as soon as the hotel my team is at has a room. They said no more than a week.”
Not realizing I’m still gawking at this fucking goddess of a woman in front of me, I completely miss the question.
“Brew?”
“Shit, sorry. I thought I saw something.” Really? That’s what I choose to use as an excuse? What am I, a punk bitch?
“Aw, like a ghost? You scared of a little Casper?” JJ taunts me, and surprisingly, it doesn’t make me cringe. Maybe it’s because she’s not trying to flirt. She’s not even attempting to get anything out of me except a laugh. That’s refreshing, given all the women in this town have hidden motives.
“Casper? Nice. No. Anyway. I will have breakfast ready by 6:00 a.m. after my early ride. See you then?”
“A bed and breakfast. Well, this is luxury.” She falls back onto the bed with a bounce, and those breast play peekaboo. I have to restrain myself from growling. “Morning ride? Six in the morning? What time are you up and going?” Sitting up, she leans back on her hands, looking at me, no idea what her exotic and strong presence is doing to me.
