Candi’s Debt

by Aubrey Cara

  Flipping it open, I put my number in, but now I almost feel bad knowing it may be a pain for her to text me. She’s going to have to hit each number a handful of times just to send me a quick message. Automatically, I think about buying her a more up-to-date phone, and want to kick myself.

  I am not going to be that kind of guy.

  Having to struggle with texting obviously hasn’t made her any more motivated to be wise with her money. If sending me a text is a trial, she’ll just have to consider it part and parcel the further pains I’m going to supply her butt.

  “You’re not on the schedule tonight so try to stay out of trouble,” I say, handing back her phone, and debating giving her a curfew.

  “It’s Wednesday,” she says looking at me like I should know why that’s significant. “I go over the books and check the inventory order for John on Wednesdays.”

  “Yeah, my old man told me. I just don’t think that’ll be a good idea, all considering. I can go over the numbers and inventory just fine myself.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, you don’t get to tell me I’m not doing my job anymore.”

  “Look, princess,” I say, noticing how she grits her teeth in response. “I’m sure you’re good at helping out in the office.” Even I can hear the lie in my words. “But it’s just not necessary now that I’m here.”

  Oh, yeah. She doesn’t like that. My little princess growls low in her throat, and practically bares her teeth at me. “Don’t you dare condescend to me, like you know me. You can assume all you want about me, but I am more than ‘good’ at helping in the office. I’ll prove it. Move.”

  I’m fighting an eye roll and I’m about to say ‘yeah, right,’ when she rounds the corner of the desk. My space is automatically filled with her disturbingly pleasant scent. Her hands pull at my rolling chair.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m showing you why John has me go over the numbers.”

  Now that my chair is scooted back she leans over the keyboard and mouse. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her worn-out jeans stretched over her delectable ass right there in front of me. My palms itch to reach out and grab a handful of booty I recall in naked detail, all too well.

  “What are you doing?” I ask to distract myself from the fact that all my blood is making its way a few feet south of my brain.

  “Here, look,” she says, standing and pointing at the computer screen. She’s pulled up the bar’s finances for the past week. They’re the same numbers I’d been going over right before she interrupted me.

  I shrug. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “Your dad has an old school system and you have to type in all the numbers from our revenue, which is a pain in the butt process. There are registers and software that would make it easier on the man, but he likes to make things difficult.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s kind of a well-known fact about the man.”

  “Can you spot any discrepancies between the paper book receipts and what’s on the computer?”

  “That’s what I was doing. I haven’t found anything yet.”

  “Really? And you’ve been adding up the numbers to make sure everything matches?”

  “Like I said, I have been—”

  “I hope you just got started because you’ve already missed two mistakes, and I just glanced at it.”

  She has my attention now. Leaning forward, I try to see what the hell she’s talking about. I’d been wading in the waters of the order sheets and such for an hour before she’d come in. The guy I’m in town covering for called me with some details. It was only a momentary distraction, but still… “I don’t see anything.”

  “Look here and here. According to the books, the total should be ten thousand four hundred eighty-seven and twenty-seven cents. This is only ten thousand three hundred ninety- four and eighteen cents.”

  The system on the computer did the addition to get to ten thousand three hundred ninety- four but now I’m staring down at the open book of numbers trying to figure out how she’d added them up so quickly.

  “Go on,” she says handing me a calculator with a superior blonde brow raised. “Check and see for yourself.”

  For some reason I believe her. That doesn’t stop me from tallying everything myself. It takes me considerably longer. “Holy shit.” I look down at the calculator and then back up at her.

  Now she smiles. It is half smug, half spring sunshine. I put that asininely poetic comparison out of my head and look back at the numbers before looking at her again.

  “How the hell did you do that?” I just can’t believe it. She’d glanced at the books. Glanced. “Were you in here doing this earlier this week?” She had to have been. There is no way she could just look at numbers and know how much they’d be added up.

  “Write down some numbers,” she says, putting a pad of paper in front of me.

  I shoot her a skeptical look, but grab the pen off the desk and write down a series of numbers, keeping a hand over the lot as I write to hide it from her view. Not about to make it easy for her, many of the digits are in the thousands.

  She casually leans back against the desk, completely unconcerned. My shoulder grazes her hip and I can’t help but picture pushing her back and spreading her long legs wide. I clear my throat to get her attention and to focus my own. I need to get my head out of the gutter and remember this girl is trouble. Like my mother. Like. My. Mother.

  Yeah, it isn’t working. My brain/dick connection has obviously been severed because my cock isn’t seeing any correlation between the gorgeous, sweet smelling blonde in front of me and my mother. Not even a little.

  “Are you done?” she asks and I realize she’s been watching me stare up at her like a jackass.

  “Uh, yeah. Here.” I hand over the notepad still a little distracted by where my thoughts had been leading.

  “Seven hundred eighty-six thousand, three hundred twenty-three,” she says a moment after I’ve given her the paper.

  Snatching it out of her hands, I add it up on the calculator. Ho-ly shit. “Why aren’t you working for NASA?” I ask half seriously. She is a fucking, friggin genius. I can’t even wrap my head around how she’s capable of adding up numbers like that.

  Her pleasant tinkle of laughter is all the reply I get. Her arms are crossed over her chest pushing up her lovely breasts. I still wonder if her nipples are a soft pink or more of a dusky rose, or peach. They could be peach.

  “Eyes up here buddy.”

  Baby blue eyes, like I’ve never seen before, are haughtily looking down at me. Jesus H. I just got caught ogling her tits like a twelve-year-old boy. And I’d been staring like I have x-ray vision. I glance back at the numbers. “Tell me, princess,” I say just to watch her bristle. “How is it a girl that is so damn good with numbers is so bad with her money?”

  “One of those ironies of life, I guess. Now, are you going to get out of my way and let me do my job?”

  I push back from the desk and stand. “Far be it that I should get in your way after that impressive display. Just don’t make me regret letting you do it. I’m going to check everything to make sure you’re not skimming money off the top or anything.”

  She rolls her eyes as she sits down and scoots the chair back up to the desk. “Feel free to hang out and watch the magic happen. You might learn a thing or two,” she says stretching out her joined hands like she’s cracking her knuckles.

  “That’s all right. I’ll leave you to it.” I make like I’m leaving but pause in the doorway to watch her work. She’s practically glowing as her eyes dart left and right as she scans the numbers.

  “Don’t go far. We still have to do inventory,” she says not even looking up. I doubt she’s even lost count.

  It is obvious there is a lot more to Candi than I’ve given her credit for. I take a step back into the office, about to apologize for being an ass earlier when there is a knock on the door behind me.

  �
��Hey, dipshit. I was wondering where you were.”

  Wyatt.

  “And who do we have here?” Wyatt asks as he moves into the office, his eyes trained on Candi.

  The blue eyed beauty is now looking up at my good-looking friend with a shy but bright smile. The likes of which she’s never aimed at me.

  A feeling I’m not even close to being comfortable with has me folding my arms over my chest to keep from punching my friend. Instead, I lean up against the doorjamb hoping to look casually unconcerned.

  I’m not concerned. Why should I be concerned?

  “Wyatt Hatlen, at your service,” Wyatt says holding out his hand for her to shake.

  “Um, hi. I’m Candi.” Her delicate hand is engulfed in Wyatt’s rough tan hand as she laughingly beams up at the turd.

  Wyatt perches a hip on the corner of the desk, grinning like a dumbass loon down at Candi. “Whatchadoin’?”

  “She’s doing the books, so we should leave her to it.”

  “Mmm, smart and beautiful.”

  “Oh, no. Hank did most of it. I’m just finishing up so he can get some other things done. I’m not—”

  “Actually—” I’m about to say brilliant with numbers, but Candi shoots an irritated ‘shut it’ look my way.

  “And she’s modest,” Wyatt says, bringing Candi’s attention back to the dipshit.

  I want to know why the hell she’s suddenly downplaying her intelligence. And I will find out…later. Right now I need to get my raging hormone of a friend away from Candi. She doesn’t need his brand of stupid in her life. And that is the only reason I care, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  “What are you doing here, Wyatt?” If I sound a bit like an asshole I don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Wyatt whips around looking like he’s forgotten I’ve been standing here. “Oh, I’m just stopping in, part boredom, part seeing what you wanted to do tonight.”

  “I don’t know, man. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

  “Hey,” he says turning back to Candi, “You want to go out with us tonight?”

  “I, um, I couldn’t—” Candi says, but it’s in a cutesy flirty way that makes me want to vomit. Or punch Wyatt in the face.

  “What happened to that chick from the party on Saturday night?” I ask Wyatt, just to be an ass.

  “Actually, she ended up having a goon boyfriend who nearly tried to rip my head off. Turns out she had been just using me to make him jealous.” The idiot says this looking at Candi with a hangdog expression. “I thought we had a real connection too, you know?”

  Yeah, I can just imagine all the ways they had ‘connected’. Candi, on the other hand, does the sympathetic head tilt chicks do and mews, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Was it Jackie Miller by chance?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Wyatt says, sounding just about as southern as Candi. “How did you know?”

  “She does that,” Candi says with a shrug. “She’s kind of known around town for it actually. And her boyfriend Chad really is a goon. Plus, I remember seeing her at the party.”

  “You were at the party? I would remember seeing you,” Wyatt says. I refrain from pointing out he’d missed seeing Candi cause his face had been buried in Jackie Miller’s tits.

  “Oh, I wasn’t there very long,” she says, shooting me a sidelong glance and I smirk when she blushes. “We arrived late, then I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend and left shortly after that.”

  “You poor thing,” Wyatt says putting his hand over hers.

  “It’s all right, really. It needed to happen.”

  “Still. That can be tough.” Wyatt keeps his sad, sympathetic look a second longer before he brightens and asks, “So, dinner. You in?”

  “I wish I could, really—”

  “That’s a yes. You know you want to say yes.”

  “I, um, it would be yes, but…” She glances up at me and I think she looks genuinely

  uncomfortable. “I have to be home for my little brother.”

  Huh, I hadn’t expected that. Seems I’m finding out all kinds of things about Barbie

  Princess this afternoon.

  “Why don’t I bring stuff over to grill? I make a mean hamburger and kids love burgers.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  I roll my eyes. Only Wyatt could invite himself over to someone’s house and have them think it is nice.

  “But you should know, my brother isn’t exactly a kid,” Candi says. “When I said I had to take care of him, I meant because he was in an accident.”

  “Well, even more reason to come over and grill out. How long has the poor guy been laid up?”

  “Um,” again she nervously glances up at me and I wonder what the hell’s up with that. “It happened Saturday night…a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Wyatt says.

  “Thanks. He’ll be fine,” she says, waving it off.

  “So, we’re on?”

  “Uh, I guess. Is Hank coming too?” She’s wearing a worried little frown as she nervously twirls a loose strand of hair.

  “I’m sure Hank will be too busy—”

  “I’ll be there,” I say, cutting off Wyatt. They both look up at me, Wyatt with a man-don’t-be-cock-blocking look and Candi…well, she looks a little disappointed and annoyed. Isn’t that just too bad? I don’t want to spend any more time with the little lean-pocketed princess than I have to, but I’m not about to leave Wyatt alone with her, so I shrug like I didn’t just insinuate myself on their evening together. “A guy’s got to eat.”

  “I warn you, my place is really…um, I rarely have anyone over, ever,” Candi says looking at me, then Wyatt a bit nervously.

  “You should see our place. It’s a sty pretty much all the time. Unless a pretty girl is coming over,” the douche says with a wink. “No judgment from us.”

  Candi giggles. “From you maybe…”

  “What’s this? Hank, have you been your usual prickly self? I promise, Hank will be on his best behavior tonight,” Wyatt says and I feel like flipping him off.

  “Well, I’ll see you both later then. I should be done here by five thirty but give me some time to get home before you come over. So six-six thirty? Let me write down my address for you.”

  “Perfect,” Wyatt says shooting Candi a wink before turning to me with a shit-eating grin. He gives me a pat on the shoulder, finally on his way out the door, and I resist planting my fist in his face. “Hey man, I’ll go pick everything up and swing back around to get you.”

  “Great,” I say nodding my head like I don’t want to irrationally smash something. I’m going to get to spend the night playing fucking chaperone to these two. “Just great.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CANDI

  After Wyatt leaves, I can feel Hank’s eyes burning into the side of my head. If the look on his face the entire time his gorgeous friend was here is any indication, I do not want to hear what he has to say. And I have a feeling he is just dying to tell me something I do not want to hear. So I just ignore him and go back to work like he isn’t here.

  “Do you really think right now is the best time to be dating?”

  Well, that didn’t take long. I glance at the clock on the bottom of the screen. Mr. Buffoon waited two whole minutes.

  “I’m twenty-one, single, and ready to mingle. Some would say this is the best time. And I’m not dating your friend, although he seems nice…plus he has dimples.” I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with dimples. Indeed he is cute, charming, and way more personable than sunny old Hank.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Wyatt is not nice. He’s a walking erection you looked more than happy to hop on.” I gasp in outrage, but the ass ignores me and keeps going. “And what is that shiiistuff about you downplaying how smart you are?”

  “Maybe I like being a bit of a mystery, and FYI I do not want to hop on his anything. What the hell is your deal? If you have such
a problem with me why are you even coming over tonight?”

  “I don’t have a problem with you. I have a problem with you having a slew of problems and thinking it’s no problem to go out and date horny idiots while you’re still getting your shiiiistuff together.”

  “Oooh, careful there. You wouldn’t want to break one of your own rules.”

  I’m not at all surprised when he growls at me for that. However, I’m shocked when my nipples pebble. His feral rumble seems to shoot tingles straight down to my special bits in a disconcerting manner. I lock my knees together hard. That is a feeling I refuse to acknowledge. Refuse. The fire demon named Hank is not, not, turning me on.

  “Speaking of rules, princess, I think I’m adding on to the list. No dating.”

  “That makes no sense, that rule is stupid. I’m not doing that.”

  “That makes perfect sense. And you’ll adhere to my rules if you know what’s good for you.”

  You and what army aregoing to make me? I silently say to myself scowling at the buffoon. “Whatever. Why don’t you mosey on and let me get back to work?”

  When Hank’s towering form leans over the desk I fight the urge to shrink back in my seat. Why won’t he just stalk off like the lumbering beast he is? He looks like he’s about to breathe fire. His cheeks are flushed as red as his beard and his eyes are shooting sparks. The muscles in his forearms are flexing like he’s holding himself back from grabbing me as he braces himself on the desk. Hell if I don’t notice he is all kinds of sexy angry.

  “Careful, little girl.” The deep rumble of his voice is taunting. “You don’t want to be put over daddy’s knee again, do you?”

  All I can do is huff my indignation, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, as my mind blanks and my panties flood remembering the last time I was over his lap. I can feel my face is all kinds of red. No, I do not want to be put over daddy’s anything, but why does just the thought of…no! No, no, no!

  Giving me an appraising look he says, “Huh, maybe you do. You never cease to surprise me, princess.” Chuckling, the asshole finally turns and walks out of the office. I try not to cringe at the truth in his words.