by T. L Smith
My hand pauses on my glass. Slowly I turn to face him, and he’s already regarding me waiting for me to answer. “He gave me a lift.”
He nods his head. “He doesn’t talk to staff. Hell, I’m pretty sure the only people in this life he likes are our families and us. Even then I question it sometimes.” He seems to be thinking out loud, so I’m not sure why he’s telling me this. He looks back to me. “He has a son. He’s a single dad. You know that, right?”
“I thought as much. I mean, he never confirmed it but I figured he was his.”
“Echo.” We both turn to Darby standing there with a hard look on his face as he stares at Echo. He nods his head to the door leading to the office. He doesn’t glance back to me as he storms off up the stairs with Echo following him.
Someone’s mad, and I’m glad this time it’s not directed at me.
“Why are you always the last one to leave?” Darby asks as I walk to my car. His voice makes me jump, I didn’t see or hear him following me out.
“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders. Truth is, I don’t have anything better to do and working here is a nice relief from my boredom, and also proving my father right that I don’t need him or his company.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks. I check back at the club and think about my perfectly clean bar. “Not here, there’s a place down the road where El used to work, it’s quiet and nice.”
“Sure.” I reach into my car and pull a sweater out, slide it on, and reach for my purse. He starts walking, and I follow, coming into step next to him. “Is this normal?”
He doesn’t turn, just keeps staring ahead. “Is what normal?”
“Do you take girls who work for you out to drinks all the time?”
He laughs. “No. No fucking way. That’s a major no.”
“So, why did you invite me?”
He regards me with his eyes for moment, then they glance back to the footpath we’re walking on. “You seem to be an exception.”
I like that answer.
I like him.
I know I do even if he’s cold and uninviting. He seems… troubled, hurt, unsure. And each problem I notice I want to help fix for him. But I can’t, I know that. I need to sort out my own life before I can even begin to help anyone else.
He pulls on the door, holding it open for me to enter. When we walk in, he nods his head to a seat, and I go to sit there while he walks to the bar to order, then makes his way back over to me.
“Vodka, right?” I nod my head, and he sips whatever it is he’s drinking.
“This isn’t awkward.” I laugh sipping my own.
“Is it?” he asks finishing off his own drink. He stands, and at first I think he’s going to go back to the bar, but he walks right in front of me, taking the drink from my hand and placing it on the table between us. Then when my eyes go back to him, his finger is lifting my jaw, his mouth coming closer to mine as he leans down. I feel the tickle of his lips as they barely touch mine. I take in a ragged breath, and all I do is breathe him in, and that’s a damn big mistake because he smells really good. So good that I lift myself just a fraction so we’re closer, so I can taste him too.
I lick my lips, and he watches the action still so very close but not touching me anymore. I caress my lips on his while I still sit in my seat and he leans down over me. He doesn’t pull away, simply lets me kiss him. My hands reach up to touch his face, to feel his slight stubble, then he opens, and he kisses me back for a fraction of a second. And fuck if he doesn’t feel good. The way he tastes to the touch of his lips. I’ve never been kissed by someone like that. It feels odd but in all the right places. He pulls away fast. Going back to his seat, leaving me on the edge of mine. I open my eyes to see he’s assessing me. There’s a new drink in his hand and a new drink on the table for me also.
“You kissed me,” I say touching my lips.
“You kissed me,” he retorts.
Truth. We both did. I liked it.
“I want to do it again,” I say smiling while lifting my drink to my lips. I gaze over the brim of my glass to see his reaction.
He’s smirking at me. “That I can do,” he finally says.
I nod my head. “Good. I would’ve taken it anyway knowing what you taste like now,” I tell him truthfully.
“What I taste like?” he says more to himself. “It’s what you taste like that interests me.” And I don’t think he’s talking about the same thing I am because he smirks.
“So, why aren’t you at home? Why are you here?” I finally ask. I don’t want to mention his son, as that’s none of my business, and if he feels the need to tell me he will.
“My father’s arriving tomorrow, I need liquid courage.”
“You want to be drunk when he comes?” I ask laughing. “I feel like we may have the same type of father.”
He shakes his head. “No. I just need to prepare myself for him.”
“Is he like you?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t really know anymore.” His words confuse me. “Creed’s mother did most of my raising, plus the school I attended helped with my upbringing.”
I nod my head. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I was raised well. My father, despite his flaws, he thought he was doing what was best for me. He didn’t know better.”
“And your mom?” I ask.
He waves his hand in the air, and just like that another drink is placed before us.
“She died when I was four.”
“That sucks.”
His eyes shoot to me, the perfect chocolate eyes stay glued to me. “It does.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask him standing. Offering him my hand, he takes it, and I think the answer is yes. His hand is warm in mine and so much larger as he squeezes it until we get outside.
“That’s the second time you’ve propositioned me.”
I turn to face him, our hands staying linked. “Is this going to be the second time you turn me down?”
His mouth comes to mine, and he kisses me again, pushing me so my back hits the wall. I taste his smoked whiskey, and my hands grip his hair, holding him to me as close as possible. He bites at my lips. His hands stay in place at my sides, when all I want them to do is roam and explore my body. He breaks the kiss fast, pulling back and looking at me with his perfect hair now a complete mess.
My lips are swollen—wanting and needing more.
My body craving what I know he can give me.
Then he opens his mouth and douses me in frigid water, yet again.
“I’ll continue to turn you down. You’re my employee,” he says then starts walking to the car. My mouth hangs open like a goldfish. Did he just say that? He kissed me like I was someone, then tore it away almost immediately as if I’m no one. I take a deep breath, pushing myself off the wall. He’s waiting by his car, but I won’t look at him again, and when I reach mine, I open the door. I hear him say my name, but I don’t answer, keeping my window up, and drive off without regarding him further.
I’m his fucking employee, so he won’t fuck me.
But he will get me wound up and kiss me.
The fucker.
I should slap him.
But I won’t because I want him to kiss me again.
Fuck.
11
Darby
She’s stuck in my head, in my dreams, and stays there even when I open my eyes to a knock on my door. That kiss last night, what was I thinking? I shouldn’t have done it, my lips shouldn’t have touched her perfectly soft lips. It was stupid, and I’m pushing the boundaries. It’s something I’ve warned the guys about, yet here I am, wanting the same thing.
That cannot fucking happen.
A loud banging on the door comes again. Charles starts to fuss in his crib, so I reluctantly get up. Going to the front door, I’m about to tell the person, whoever it is, to get lost. But when I pull the door open all the words become stuck in my thro
at as I stare at my father.
He doesn’t offer me a smile, just observes me with a bag over his shoulder. Charles makes a loud sound, he’s fully woken now, and we both glance behind us.
“Is that him?”
I nod and step aside, letting Dad in. His bag drops to the floor, and he follows the sound to the open door where Charles is located. He steps in slowly as if he’s afraid of something, but when he sees him, I notice his body relax as he lets out a breath. He reaches in, picking Charles up and instantly soothing him. When he turns back to look at me, I see myself in him. The way he’s so blunt and knows exactly what he wants, but not in the way we dress. He’s in boots, he lives in boots, plus a plaid button-up shirt. He smells of my childhood—hay and open fields. “He’s exactly like you were at his age.”
The breath I was holding releases—it’s a relief to get a second opinion. To know that he’s mine even though I knew it in my heart already, it was a fact. Confirmation is a good thing.
“He does.”
“I had my doubts.” Of course he did, he never takes anything at face value. He has to check everything for himself. He believes something when he sees it with his own two eyes and not before. Dad walks out to the living room and sits down with Charles on his lap while I make his bottle. He talks to him as if he’s a little person and not a baby. It makes me wonder what he was like when I was a baby. He catches me staring and leans back with Charles on his chest.
“I wasn’t around much when you were born.” He pats Charles’s back as I bring over his bottle. “Your mother was very hands-on and insisted she do everything. I sometimes got the night shifts when she was too tired,” he says taking the bottle from my hands and starting to feed Charles.
“You don’t talk about her.”
His eyes, the same color as mine, glance up. “She was the love of my life. What do you expect me to say?”
“She was also my mother, Dad. You should have said a lot.”
His eyes close for a fraction of a second. “I sometimes forget that. That I had to share her. She was mine for so long.” Dad never moved on after she died. He keeps himself busy with his farm, and I wonder if he even has much human interaction anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve been back home that I’ve forgotten the smallest details of the place. “You had Ma, so I didn’t see the point.”
I sit back in my seat, angry at his words, and cross my arms over my chest. “She wasn’t my mother, Father, and you know that. She was just a fill-in. Fuck! She still is. But you should have told me more about my mother.”
He nods then checks on Charles. “Do you plan to tell him about his mother?”
“Yes. Of what I know, at least.”
“So, you didn’t know her well?”
I shake my head. “She’s left letters… one for him and me.”
“Interesting…” He pauses. “You haven’t read them, have you?” I shrug. “It’s interesting how you spent so little time with me but turned out just like me.”
A knock comes on the door, so I get up to open it, leaving my father with Charles on the couch. When I pull it open, Ma greets me with a smile as she does every day. Her hands wrap around me, and she reaches in, kissing my cheek, and quickly lets go before she pushes past me. She stops when she sees my father sitting on the couch with Charles.
“Brandon, what a pleasant surprise.”
“It’s good to see you again, Ma.” Everyone calls her that, it kind of stuck with her as she always had us kids around. She blushes. Holy shit, did she just blush? I look between the two of them to see my father watching her intently and smiling. He doesn’t fucking smile.
“You didn’t tell me your father would be here today. Do you want me to go?” She turns toward the door.
“Don’t be silly, you can show me everything this little man likes while Darby goes to work.”
Ma nods her head and walks farther into the room, sitting next to my father as she says hello to Charles. My father watches her every movement.
“It’s been so long,” Ma says, and I only just hear his response as I walk past.
“It has, way too long.”
Olympia’s here when I walk in—of course, she is. She’s always here when she should be having a life. Olympia’s eyes find mine, and she quickly looks away. I walk up to the bar while watching her set everything in place. I sit opposite and wait for her to acknowledge I’m here. She doesn’t. It takes me five minutes until I speak to her again because she’s disregarding me.
“Do you plan to ignore me?”
“I was until you opened your mouth,” she says still not acknowledging me with her eyes.
“What happened last night cannot happen again.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” is what she says as her reply.
“I’m serious.” She finally turns to look at me, her blue hair tied back today.
“No, you aren’t, and do you want to know why you aren’t?”
I sit back, crossing my hands over my chest. “Enlighten me, oh wise one.”
Olympia walks over, her elbows come to lie on the counter in front of me. She pushes her breasts up so they’re on full display. “Because when you say that, your eyes flick to my lips, and I know you want to kiss me again.”
I lift my eyes from her lips.
Shit! I didn’t even know I was doing that.
“It won’t happen again.”
She pushes off the counter with an eye roll. “Please, I expect it will happen today. Actually, probably in the next two minutes, since you can’t seem to stay away from me.”
“I could fire you.”
“Please, go ahead. I don’t need the money.”
“Why don’t you need the money?”
She turns back to me. “Because I have more than you.” She winks and goes back to her job. I walk straight up the stairs to our offices and open Echo’s office door to see him sitting at his computer.
“Why is she rich?” I ask Echo.
“Well, hello to you too, friend.” He gazes up from his computer, waiting.
“Hello. Now, tell me why?”
Echo goes back to it, and I hear the clicking before he starts talking. “Her father’s wealthy, owns almost all the coal mining fields in this country.”
Fuck, that is a shit load.
“She’s a princess,” I state.
“Mining princess, for sure.”
“Why does she work here?” I ask, but he shrugs.
“You know I didn’t hire her, Creed did. Ask him.”
Great, that’s like getting blood from a stone.
“Do you want to fire her?” Echo asks.
I sit on his question, unsure of the right response.
“She’s good, though, I would say better than Johnny ever was. She’s never late and always the last to leave.”
“Why is she working, though?” I ask him, hoping maybe he might know.
“Who the fuck knows or cares.”
“Why is who working?” Falcon’s standing behind me. “You aren’t talking about blue, are you?” I quiet the urge to punch him at his nickname for her.
I change the subject. “My father is here.” They both shut up and stare at me.
“Mr. Knox is in the house? Never thought I would see the day,” Falcon says.
“Dinner tonight, everyone,” Creed says walking past.
“What? Why?”
“Ma’s orders.”
Great, just fucking great. I push away from them and follow Creed into his office, not even bothering to shut the door behind me.
“Fire her.”
Creed considers me for a second after checking his phone, standing near his desk, and simply states, “No.”
“Fire her,” I say again.
“Not happening.”
“Why?”
“Because we like watching you squirm,” Falcon shouts out.
I eye Creed, and he doesn’t say a word, just stares, waiting.
“If you don’t, I will.”
&
nbsp; “No, you won’t, she isn’t your responsibility to fire. Not your area. Back off!”
Damn, he’s right, but it still doesn’t mean I don’t want her here every day where I can see her and want to kiss her. Because I really do, I want to kiss her. The urge is real, almost consuming.
“Maybe if you stopped kissing her, there wouldn’t be a problem,” Echo yells out. Falcon hollers some shit out loudly, and Creed eyes me, watching for a reply.
“I haven’t kissed her. She’s a fucking employee, it would be unprofessional.”
“Want to see the video?” he yells back.
Creed smirks, and I walk out, slamming the door shut as I enter my office and wanting to kill them all.
Fuckers.
12
Olympia
Darby ignores me for the rest of the day which is fine. I don’t need his company anyway. Or his kisses. Well, that’s a damn lie right there. I want them, and maybe some more. Shit, it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone. Maybe I’m just fixating on him because he’s the first man I’ve felt attracted to and who has shown me some sort of attention in a long time. That has to be it.
I pull up my skirt and put on my designer heels before I get ready to go out. My brother’s in town, and thankfully my shift finished early enough for me to meet him. Barren and I have gotten along pretty well for most our lives, but there will always be an issue between us. One big problem for me is that he’s treated with more respect by our parents, and Barren can do pretty much whatever the hell he wants with no fall back on him. Me, on the other hand, I had to fight tooth and nail to simply move out of home before I was married, because Lord forbid if that had happened.
I groan while pulling my hair back in a neat bun, and when I walk downstairs, I know there will be a car waiting for me. The door opens and I see my brother inside, typing away on his phone. He looks up at me once I’m seated.
