by Rebecca Rose
She eyed the sleeping figure across from her. They could always host a woman’s night with male dancers. A sly smile crept across her face. Maybe Jake could make up this terrible first impression by hosting it… or dancing in it. Who knew, maybe it was one of his side jobs. With a body like that, he must be doing something that requires plenty of strength.
As if on cue, Jake rolled over and off the couch. He landed with a loud thud and grunt. Sophie sprinted out of her dilapidated office chair and to his side.
“Are you okay?”
Jake looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. She could see him trying to focus on her face and not quite getting the control he needed. “Who are you?”
“The new manager. Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Jake brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them.
Feeling the need to soothe the giant, Sophie petted Jake’s curling brown hair. It was shoulder length and in bad need of a cut. “Jake,” she whispered.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Sophie snatched her wastebasket. “Here.”
“Jesus. Where are my clothes?” At her chuckle he turned to her. “This is not funny.”
“Oh, it absolutely is. Your clothes are on the side table.”
“How did I…” His eyes rolled a little, and Sophie put an arm around the massive man to keep him from falling over.
“This is what I want you to do. I went out and got you some Gatorade and you need to drink it. You’re probably dehydrated, and that’s making you even sicker than whatever it is you drank.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Maybe you don’t have a choice.”
“Okay.”
He sounded pathetic and Sophie couldn’t help chuckling. She grabbed the bottle and gave it to him with the cap off. The container looked unbelievably small in his hands, and a flash of what it would be like to have them on her caused a heated blush to rise to her cheeks.
“Let’s get you back on the couch.” He moaned when she put his arm over her shoulder. “Now, you need to help me Jake, you’re a big boy and I’m a small girl.” Who would love to be under you, over you, wherever it is you’d like me to be positioned. She gave a small giggle at her perverse thoughts. If Jake was one of the perks to working at the Lion, she was really going to enjoy her new job.
* * *
Jake woke a few hours later. The bugles in his head were finally silenced, and the drums had ceased to play. But Jake felt as if they had been replaced by the vice now squeezing his skull. At least he’d slept, even if it hadn’t been a fully restful slumber. He didn’t wake up soaked in sweat from fighting imaginary demons trying to kill him.
He rolled to a sitting position and sniffed. The cook seemed to be making something greasy. The delicious smell of cooking oil filled his senses, and Jake briefly wondered if his new recipe was being tried out. At least his stomach didn’t turn and lurch at the aroma. He would take that as a good sign.
Bit by bit, Jake scanned the old storage room that became their office. Something was different, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But then again, he wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to be concentrating on anything. His brain began to clear, and the distant memory of a lady’s voice broke through the fog. She had helped him drink the power drink and given him a damp cloth on the back of his neck when he heaved in what he assumed was the wastebasket next to him. The embarrassment of someone taking care of him caused nausea, once again, to threaten the reversal of his already empty stomach. Jake was a military man—he took care of people, not the other way around. With one hand holding his head and the other reaching for his pants, Jake heard the door open.
“Good. You’re up.”
He couldn’t see who owned the sweet voice, but he knew it belonged to the woman who’d nursed him earlier. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her but she was out of his line of sight. Resigned to the fact that he was only in boxers and didn’t remember how he had been stripped down, Jake tried to pull on his pants.
“Oh, dear. Here, let me help you.”
Jake looked into his rescuer’s soft blue eyes and small freckled nose. The primal male in him wanted to see the rest of her, but the miserable head on his shoulders wouldn’t allow it. She smiled and helped him to put one foot in his jeans and then the next. With a little aid, Jake stood and she pulled them up.
“I think you can take it from here.”
“You’re not going to zip them for me?”
She scoffed at him. “And miss you struggling? No.”
He watched her walk around the steel desk and sit. “That’s my desk.” At her questioning brow, Jake elaborated, “I keep the books for my brother.”
“So I have you to thank for this mess?”
“Mess? No, they were like that when I got them. Where are my paper piles?”
“Organized.” She smirked.
He brought a hand to his head then sat back down. “Shit. What the hell happened last night?”
“That’s the million-dollar question in the bar right now. Apparently you came back here with Trixie.”
“Trixie? Do I know a Trixie?”
“Well if you didn’t, you do now.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you?” At the knock on the door Jake moaned and the woman in front of him got up to answer it.
“Thanks, Dave. No, you can’t come in.”
Jake heard his brother grunt, “I don’t see why not.”
“Because you can harass him once he’s off my couch. But right now I want him in a good mood in case he plans to camp out in here any longer.”
“I’m not camping out,” Jake grumbled. “And who the hell are you?” He watched her bump the door shut with her hip as she balanced a bowl of soup in one hand and a sandwich on a plate in the other. There was something graceful and precise about the way she did it.
“I’m the new manager. Dave told me to tell you, ‘You know, the one I told you about yesterday before I left.’ ”
Jake cringed. “I’m such an idiot. Sorry. If my head would just roll off I could get out of your hair.”
“Here, eat this. It’s chicken broth. Forget the sandwich.”
Taking the bowl from her, Jake looked at the woman before him. She had light brown hair, very tiny hands, and red glossed lips. He licked his own in response to staring at them. He supposed she must have seen him doing it, because she shifted on her feet and moved back behind the desk.
“Eat,” she urged him.
“Thank you… Umm, I still don’t know your name.”
“Sophia.”
“Just Sophia?” It amused him to see her roll those large doll-like eyes.
“Sophia Agnés. They call me Sophie. And, you are?”
“Jake Sanders.”
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Eat your broth or it’s going to get cold.”
He saw it. The quick flick of the eye when it shifts to see something clearer and then moves back just as fast. Her gaze had gone to his chest. Uneasy, Jake tried to remember the last time a woman had looked at him bare-chested. Sophie sat with her hands folded in front of her watching him, clearly trying not to notice he was still half-undressed and scarred. Suddenly it felt like that dream where he was giving an oral report in high school, only to look down and notice the only thing he had on was his underwear. A strange feeling, seeing that up until a little while ago, that was all he had on.
Jake put the soup down on top of a small filing cabinet then gave her a weak smile. “I’m chilly.” He bent and picked up his shirt then slid it over his head. “Thanks for mothering me. Not much of a first day, eh?”
“You’re forgiven. Now at the risk of sounding rude… I need to get back to reviewing your revenue. Or lack thereof.” The look on her face told Jake of the hopelessness she felt toward balancing the books, then she started clicking keys again.
“If you need any help, just give a holler. Actually, please whisper today.�
�� He discovered he liked making her smile. It brightened up her face and showed in her eyes. Jake hoisted himself off the couch and picked up his bowl of soup. As much as he would have liked to stay and make her flash that grin again, he knew he should get out of the way so Sophie could work. Besides, he probably smelled as bad as he felt.
“I wouldn’t go out there, if I were you.” He turned and saw she never looked up from her computer. “Stay. At least you’ll have peace and quiet. They’re planning on razzing the living hell out of you, and I don’t think you can take it yet.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you’re still green.”
He laughed because she was right. He felt a little green and besides… looking at a lovely lady sitting behind a desk wasn’t such a hardship. “Would it bother you if I went back to sleep?”
“Only if you don’t eat the soup first.”
* * *
The day went by quicker than Sophie thought possible. She made a mental note to bring in some small plants and pictures the next day to make her new office cozier. When Jake finally left for home to sleep off the remainder of his hangover, there’d been hoots and hollers from the patrons. Sophie felt kinda bad for the big guy. He’d only wanted to get out without being harassed, and he’d even contemplated trying to squeeze through the office window. Sophie had assured him there was no way he would fit.
Once home, she slipped on her pink fuzzy slippers and ran down the day’s activities to her childhood friend, Kathy. The one person she could always count on and would always listen to.
“Sooooo, how’s the new job?”
“Good.” Sophie took a bite of her lasagna while cradling the phone to her ear. “Dave, my boss, is pretty cute.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“He’s tall, dark, and handsome.”
Kathy made a gagging noise. “Really? You can’t come up with anything better than that?”
“Okay, okay. He’s much more your type than mine. Dave is supernice, very considerate, and has nice lips. His brother has a great body,” she added under her breath.
“What? What! Speak louder, girl.”
“Dave’s brother, Jake, was passed out on my office couch for most of the day, and half-naked. Kathy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with a body like his before. I mean he turned me on just by lying there.”
Kathy giggled into the phone. “Yum. What do you plan on doing with this hunky brother?”
“Nothing. I wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that, and I’m terrible at flirting.”
“Oh, come on! Have a little fun. Plus, your parents aren’t here to reprimand you, so go wild.”
“He looks like trouble.”
“Even better.”
Sophie gave out a loud huff. “I’ll tell you what. If I change my mind and decide to start a little something with a man who can make you sweat with just a glance at his arms, you’ll be the first to know and my mother the last.”
“Promise?”
Sophie let the cloak of doubt guide her next words: “I don’t know, Kathy. Maybe it’s too soon.”
“Hmmm… maybe you’re chickenshit.”
“Could be that, too.”
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