Blaze (Big D Escort Service Book 2)

by Willow Summers

  They were all in it. Maybe it was only Dave who had an economic interest in his and Janie’s new venture, but Colton had coined the phrase We’re Better Together about their crew. They worked together in all things. Lifted each other up. Motivated each other. A win for one of them was a win for all of them.

  However, that didn’t mean they’d stop talking because Noah was concerned about wearing his gym clothes in public.

  Dave clearly agreed with that sentiment—he waved Noah away, waited until he wasn’t quite out of earshot, then said, “A little more upscale would be nice, though.”

  Noah’s step hitched and he glanced back at them with a glower before hurrying into the locker room.

  “What are you thinking about upgrading?” Ethan tucked his bag into a cubby before heading to the free-weight squat area. He hated leg day. His legs were by far his weakest attribute. But in order to have a proportional body, he needed to exercise them. Which meant he also needed the guys to goad him into showing up for leg day.

  “Intact windows, for a start.” Dave looked around, deciding on what he would do. Colton was his spotting partner. Ethan would have to wait for Noah to get back. “Walkways that people won’t trip on. Concrete that doesn’t have bloodstains…”

  “Wait.” Colton held up his hand. “That last place had bloodstains?”

  “Not a ton, but yeah. I had to buy rugs to cover them up.”

  Colton’s expression turned incredulous. “What were they doing in that warehouse before the company went belly up?”

  Dave shrugged. “Whatever it was, they had a couple accidents. So, anyway—”

  Noah hurried back out. “What’d I miss?”

  “Bloodstains.” Dave adjusted the weight on the leg press. “Anyway—”

  “Bloodstains?” Noah’s eyes widened.

  “If you want the whole story, you need to stop being so dainty about your dress code.” Dave settled into one of the machines. “Anyway, I want to fix those few things. Decrepit is fine. But dangerously decrepit leaves us open for a lawsuit, and that’s not a good idea, despite Dick’s assertions.”

  “Assertions?” Ethan chuckled. “You’ve been hanging out with Madison too long. Big words don’t fit you, son.”

  Madison was Colton’s girlfriend and an all-around awesome chick. She and Janie were best buds, and honorary members of their tight-knit group. That wasn’t just because they were lifers, on track to marry members of the crew. Had either of them sucked to hang out with, they would not have been welcome. All the guys knew that without having to say it out loud. Those girls, though, gave their all to help each other and the rest of the guys—whoever needed it. And that made them worthy. Better together.

  “That’s a good point,” Colton said to Dave.

  “Besides.” Ethan groaned a little as he got into position with the free weights. This workout was going to suck. He hoped that cute little number he’d noticed upfront got the courage to flirt later. Some good sex would make him feel better after this nightmare. “You tried to hide that stuff last time, right? So fixing that stuff will make the whole thing less rinky-dinky. Yeah. You’re right. Remind me to tell Dick.”

  “Call him a clown.” Dave’s face turned red with strain. When he finished the reps, he sucked in a breath. “He hates being called a clown.”

  “Ten-four.”

  After the workout, Ethan grabbed a towel as Noah headed off for a shower and a change of clothes. Colton and Dave finished up and met Ethan at the cubbies.

  “What now?” Colton asked, breathing heavily.

  Ethan glanced off toward the elliptical machines. The hottie met his stare. She smiled a little before dropping her eyes. A moment later, her legs slowed and she reached for her water bottle. She was finishing up, almost certainly because he was about to leave.

  Game on.

  “How about a drink with a new friend of mine?” Ethan threw his towel over his shoulder.

  Colton and Dave both followed his gaze. Each grinned and grabbed their bags.

  “What time is it?” Colton asked.

  Dave dug through his bag. “I don’t know. I can’t find my phone.”

  “There’s a clock right there.” Ethan pointed at the round face fastened to the wall.

  “That old-fashioned one?” Dave glanced up. His brow furrowed. He went back to rooting in his bag. “It requires too much brainpower.”

  “Old-fashioned? Because it has hands and numbers?” Ethan squinted at the clock before wiping sweat out of his eyes. “One-oh-four.”

  “Show-off,” Dave said. His lips tweaked up into a smile as he finally pulled out his phone. “One eleven! See? That clock is wrong. It doesn’t have satellite power.”

  Colton checked his phone, too. “I’m game. I’ve got nothing going on.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working on your playground?” Dave asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

  Colton turned his gaze skyward. It was actually a state-of-the-art mini-golf course with all the bells and whistles—an arcade, batting cages, and mini-car track—but his mother, who didn’t approve, called it a playground. The rest of them gleefully followed suit. “I’m waiting on approvals. I’ve done all I can do at the moment.”

  “I’m going to meet Janie later to see what she says about Creepy Rich Guy’s proposal, but I’m good for now.” Dave wiped off his face before frowning down at the white towel. “This thing feels like sandpaper.”

  “You get a girlfriend, and suddenly the gym’s towels don’t have a high enough thread count to meet your standards?” Ethan threw a glance the hottie’s way. She was getting her things together. He headed toward the front area. “Your settled life is showing.”

  “This has nothing to do with a settled life, and everything to do with rubbing the skin off my face,” Dave countered.

  Ethan passed the divider. Dick finished checking someone in before glancing their way and holding up a finger. “Do not make me remind you that my counter is not a sweat-gathering surface.”

  Dave leaned his elbow on the counter.

  Dick spread out his hands and lifted his eyebrows. “Are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid?”

  “Just plain stupid, why?” Dave stared at him.

  “Get off!” Dick threw another towel at Dave, who burst out laughing, caught it, and wiped off the droplets of sweat he’d left behind. Dick glanced at Ethan. “Did you get my email? Eight o’clock. Fancy spot. Dress the part. She wants to make sure you’ll work for an upcoming event.”

  This was the other thing that had brought him and the guys together. They’d all worked as escorts at Big Dick’s Escort Service, a company Dick ran on the side. Dave and Colton had quit upon meeting their ladies, but Ethan and Noah were still raking it in.

  Ethan brought up his phone and tapped into his email.

  “This one seems very strait-laced,” Dick continued. “High-powered and a little crusty around the edges, if you catch my drift.” He pounded on his keyboard with his pointer fingers, his version of typing. “Noah seems like a better fit for this, honestly, but he doesn’t meet the height requirement.”

  “Six feet wasn’t tall enough?” Dave shifted. “Is she an Amazon?”

  Ethan smiled. “That would be a good time. I love the strong, feisty ones.”

  “Strong and feisty, sure. But able to pick you up and throw you over her shoulder?”

  “That’d be hot,” Ethan said with a laugh. “I’m game for a little role reversal.”

  Dick huffed. “She is five nine, but often wears four-inch heels. She mentioned she could wear an inch shorter heels if the service provider”—Dick curved his fingers into quotes—“lied about being six three on the website.”

  A smile spread across Dave’s face and he leaned over the counter to get a better look at the computer. “She sounds like Madison.”

  “Yes, she does,” Dick said with a scowl.

  Dave backed off the counter and gave it another wipe. “Five nine isn’t so bad. With heels,
you can still knock her down if she tries to beat you up.”

  Ethan quirked an eyebrow at Dave, his smile still burning brightly. “You’ve got problems, bro.”

  Dave hesitated, then started laughing. “It certainly does sound like that. If I got out of line, my short woman would wait until my back was turned before digging a knife in it. Still, women who could beat me up intimidate me.”

  “You’re a moron.” Dick shook his head. His eyes came up to Ethan. “Do you have all the info? She’s paying extra to get to the top of the list.”

  Ethan scanned the details on the small screen. “No funny business, no touching, just dinner and a chat?” He shrugged, reading over the dress code. It was standard nice restaurant attire. He had it all in his closet. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  The hottie from within the gym sauntered out, all hip. She gave Ethan an inviting look and slowed, a smile curling her lips.

  “Sorry, love. I have to work tonight. Another time.” Ethan slipped his phone into his gym bag and headed out.

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  Try the Please Series

  Check out the first book, Yes, Please!

  Synopsis:

  Mr. Carlisle is seeking an admin. Apply within...

  I'm way overqualified, but the economy doesn't care. After six months of job searching, I'm flat broke and mostly desperate. Rent is due in a week, my roommate sucks and is ready to toss me out, and I need an answer - fast!

  Nothing prepared me for the man in the suit...

  Not two steps into his office and my panties burst into flame. The word "handsome" doesn't do him justice. Lucifer would slap him a high-five.

  Clearly there is a reason he's the most eligible bachelor in town.

  The problem is, there's more to the job than just getting him coffee. Much more. Of the intimate variety.

  Two rules: No kissing. No falling in love.

  I can read right through all that malarkey - He's trying to push everyone away. He's trying to protect himself.

  I want to walk. To not care. But...something in me wonders what could've scarred him so badly that he needs to employ companionship.

  I’ll either save him…or he’ll ruin me…

  Chapter One:

  I dodged a tourist on the busy sidewalk in downtown San Francisco. After stepping around another, I pushed through the glass door into the café before someone could bulldoze into me. The chill of the October day turned into lovely warmth as I did a quick sweep with my gaze. I noticed my friend immediately, sitting at the counter in the back with a book and a cup of coffee. It was hard to miss her. She had a shock of perfectly coiffured red hair falling in a loose curl to her mid-back. Her stylish clothes fit her body perfectly, accentuating her trim waist and natural curve. The latest in fashion, the knee-high boot on her left leg bounced slightly where it was gracefully draped over her right knee.

  I threaded through the bustling space, dodging a chair that unexpectedly jutted toward me as someone tried to get up. “Oh, sorry!” I said as I turned sideways to squeeze by.

  Kimberly looked up at the sound of my voice. She greeted me with a flawless smile and moved her Louis Vuitton handbag off the chair beside her.

  I’d met Kimberly during my freshman year in college. She had been a senior at the time and in the university’s program to get promising freshmen on the right track. Most freshmen met their assigned senior once or twice, and then continued on with their lives. I would’ve done the same, not wanting to bother her, but week after week she’d checked in. As the year passed by, she was always there, supporting me and giving advice. And she still was. Nothing changed when she graduated. We weren’t in the same social class and came from different backgrounds, but still she called me every week. She was sweet as well as beautiful, and I was thankful for her friendship.

  I pulled out the high seat and hoisted myself up into it. “Hi,” I said, laying the newspaper I was carrying on the counter and dropping my bag to the floor.

  “Don’t put it down there, it’ll get dirty!” Kimberly started to bend for my bag.

  I put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Kimberly, the thing is eight hundred years old, five shades lighter than when it was new, and probably dirtying the floor. It’s fine.”

  She crinkled her nose at me but didn’t argue. Instead, she glanced at the counter next to me. “Olivia, is that a newspaper?” Her incredulous gaze colored with humor. “Nineteen-eighty called—they want their communication device back.”

  I smiled as a server stopped by. The woman braced a pen to her green notepad. “Hi, what can I get for you?”

  My mind went to the bills sitting on my bookshelf. If the stack were any taller, Godzilla would try climbing it. “Just a coffee, please.”

  “Do you want something to eat?” Kimberly asked me.

  “Nah. I’m not hungry.” To punctuate my lie, my stomach rumbled.

  Kimberly looked at the server. “A turkey sandwich, no pickles, with a side of potato chips.”

  “You got it,” the woman said as she scribbled down the order and moved away.

  “When did you start eating meat?” I drummed my fingers on the counter to offset the sound of my stomach trying to tattle on me again.

  She dropped the menu behind a napkin dispenser, where it flopped against the salt and pepper shakers. “I don’t. But you’re hungry, and you hate asking for handouts. It’ll come, you’ll bitch, and then I’ll get to treat you to lunch. Just call me mastermind.”

  “Kimmy,” I whined, picking at the edge of the newspaper. I could feel the heat saturate my cheeks. Pale skin and easy embarrassment were a couple of life’s really cruel jokes. “You don’t need to buy me lunch!”

  “Oh, posh!” She snatched her phone off the counter, checked the screen, found no one had called or texted in the thirty seconds since she’d probably checked it last, and dropped it back down to the counter. “I got lucky and graduated when there were still jobs. I figure my luck will run out soon, and I’ll get laid off. By then, you should be working, and you better expect to buy me lunch. See? Just planning ahead. So…”

  She reached around me and grabbed the newspaper. “What are you doing with a newspaper? Old school. Why not look at Craigslist like everyone else?”

  I blew out a breath. “My computer died. Actually, not true—it comes on. I can hear it buzzing, but the screen stays black. The tech guy I know said it’d be about four hundred dollars to fix, and that I should just buy a new one. Which is a great idea—I’d love to have a new computer. I’d also love to have four hundred bucks.”

  Kimberly tsked. “I have a computer you could borrow—it’s old but it works. Robby bought me a new Mac.”

  Robby was Kimberly’s rich, handsome boyfriend who was about five seconds away from slapping a ring on her finger. She was a great catch, and he was smart enough to realize it.

  “Thanks! That’d be great. The library is fun and all, but my bedroom doesn’t have stinky people leaning against the back of my chair.”

  Kimberly grimaced and ruffled the newspaper open like a father in a 1950s sitcom. The smile dripped off her face as her brow crinkled. “Admin assistant?” She glanced up at me.

  I shrugged as my coffee arrived. I immediately reached for the creamer.

  “But you got a degree in computer science…” Kimberly looked down at the listing again. “Computer science pays well. This… The salary isn’t listed, but it can’t be much.”

  I dumped two packets of sugar into my coffee. My spoon clinked as it whirled around the cup. I took a sip. The scalding brew raked down my throat and set my esophagus on fire. I coughed and beat at my chest. It didn’t help. Eyes watering, I braced the counter until the heat dwindled.

  “You should blow on it,” Kimberly said.

  “Mastermind, indeed,” I wheezed. After the burn died away, I said, “I’ve been job h
unting for six months, Kimberly. I started applying a month before I graduated, remember? A solid six months, too. No slacking. Out of applying for hundreds of positions, I’ve only gotten a handful of interviews. Then I always hear the same thing—the school I went to is impressive, my list of achievements are even more so, but I have no practical experience. Then I never hear from them again.”

  A surge of hopelessness welled up inside of me. Soon I’d have to start applying to fast food chains just to get some money coming in. The problem with that was it wouldn’t be enough to keep a roof over my head. Not in this city, not even in the surrounding areas. Moving was inevitable, but I needed money for that, too.

  Life was sure kicking me in the lady balls.

  “I’m just looking for anything that pays at the moment,” I said before chancing another sip. “I even applied to be a dog walker—turns out, there are more dog walkers around here than dogs.”

  “What about your mom?”

  I scoffed. “On a safari with someone else’s husband. She’s never been much into the mothering game.”

  I shook my head and traced the cup’s handle. “If I could just get something—literally anything that paid decently—I could keep afloat until the economy improves.”

  The sandwich arrived. With a busy smile, the waitress lowered the plate in front of Kimberly. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you. We’re good.” Kimberly pushed the plate in front of me as the waitress moved way. “Eat. This place does the best sandwiches.”

  I gave Kimberly a grateful smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

  She laughed and picked up her phone. “I know of something…” she said slowly, cutting into the fog of a truly delicious sandwich. She chewed her lip, hesitating. Leaning forward elegantly on the counter, she lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “You’re single, right?”

  “Huh?” I asked, chewing.

  “You’re single?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Kimberly, I love you, but for the love of God, don’t try to set me up anymore. Either the guys take one look at me and make an excuse to get out of the date, or they just use me and dump me when they get bored. No thanks.”