We divided the duties and got to work.
“So tell me more about yourself. Did you grow up in Orlando?” Damon unwrapped the pack of shrimp.
“Yep. Born and raised.”
“That must have been so hard for you when you lost your parents. Do you mind me asking, what happened?” Damon’s voice was genuinely concerned. He probably couldn’t fathom the idea of parents like mine, but they existed.
“I didn’t say that anything happened to them. I said they weren’t around.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“My parents had money and lived by the what-will-other-people-think mentality. Needless to say, a seventeen-year-old pregnant daughter who refused to have an abortion didn’t exactly go along with the ideal image they liked to portray.”
“Did they send you away?”
“Umm, not exactly. They gave me an ultimatum.” I got more upset with myself for allowing these memories to hurt me still than I did the memories themselves.
“Okay . . . I’m not sure what to say here.” Damon’s loss for words was sort of sweet, but I was used to people doing one of three things: feeling sorry for me, not believing me, or wondering why I didn’t just do what they wanted. For Damon not to seem to have taken any of those stances, I was impressed and taken aback. Something about him made me nervous. He looked at me like he was hanging on my next word, ready to catch me if I were to fall, and all of a sudden I wanted to laugh. This stupid image of a rerun from the Carol Burnett show, where she was dressed up in curtains as Scarlett O’Hara filled my head. I’d seen the episode at least a hundred times. It was one of the few shows that seemed to always be available on the public broadcast networks. He looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy. I wasn’t sure what a shimmy was, but if it was bra and panties, yep, that was the look Damon Christakos was giving me, and it made me tingle.
No. I would not, could not go there. I put a skillet on and dropped the butter into the pan to melt. “There’s nothing to say. I chose what was best for me, and knowing what I know now, I’d still choose it. They told me to get an abortion or get out.” I sprinkled salt, pepper, and flour into the pan.
“You were seventeen. It was illegal to kick you out.”
“Shhh.” I tried to get Damon to lower his voice, which had risen with anger. “I was seventeen, had been a party girl, and was scared and shocked. Legal, not legal didn’t cross my mind. I was more concerned with scared and alone.” I whisked the sauce slowly as I added milk. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I was already past my first trimester. Anyway, I thought it was all threats and they were only using intimidation to try to get their way since they weren’t actually doing anything. Until I passed the twenty-four-week mark.” I pointed to the shrimp. “Can you drop those into the pot to boil? They’ll only take a few minutes.”
He nodded and picked up the shrimp. “Why twenty-four weeks?” Damon moved next to me, his large body so close it was somehow reassuring, which was weird. I’d never needed anyone, but right then it was nice to have someone listen without judging.
“Because then I was past the mark of legal abortion.” I blinked, hating that a tear escaped down my cheek. Just the thought of not having my girl was heartbreaking.
“What next?”
“The pasta,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding his question.
“Okay, I’ll do the pasta. But what did they do next?”
“What they promised. I came home, and the locks on the doors had been changed. They left a small duffle with some basic clothes, some toiletries, five hundred dollars, and the contact information for a shelter on the porch. Before I could pick the bag up and head back to my car, a man had put a lock on the wheel and asked for my keys. He said that my parents did not want me taking the car since it was in my father’s name and they paid the insurance. By six p.m. that night, my cell phone was no longer in service.”
“Didn’t you have any other family or friends?” Damon’s voice cracked.
“My only family was my grandmother, who was exactly like my mother. My friends, if you could call them that, their parents wouldn’t allow them to answer my calls. They were friends with my parents, birds of a feather and all that.” I turned at the sound of clicking as Damon flipped the knobs on the burners and turned the stove off.
“Come here.” He took the whisk from my hand and laid it on the counter before holding his arms out wide. When I didn’t move toward him, he came to me and cocooned me in his giant arms.
Except for Bee, I couldn’t remember ever being hugged. Damon Christakos gave good hug. “Are you sure you still want me working for you? I’m sort of a train wreck.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m trying to think of the girl lion’s name in The Lion King, Gianna’s been watching it nonstop.”
“Nala?”
“That’s it. I’m going to call you Nala. You are a mother lion, not a train wreck.”
I lifted my head, and our eyes locked, causing a strange feeling to simmer and roll in my stomach as heat washed over my skin.
He lifted one hand and cupped my face as he stared into my eyes before lowering his lips to mine. Even if I wanted to, which I really, really didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to. Everything about this man was mesmerizing.
“Damon, we can’t.”
“Because I’m your boss?”
Reality was slowly sinking in as he pulled away and I realized what had just happened and what I had risked. When this all crashed, because it would, everything did, I’d not just lose my job but I’d lose a friend. For the first time there was someone that I was opening up to, and I couldn’t jeopardize that, not over some overactive fucking hormones. “That’s part of the reason. The other part is that I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not in any position—”
“It was a kiss, not a commitment.” Damon still had his hand cupping my face.
I was gearing up to go off about how I could prove with one eight-year-old little girl exactly how a kiss led to a lifelong commitment. Well, that was until the doorbell rang. Damon released his hold on me and let out a groan. Unable to speak or focus on anything because there was still a lingering tingle on my lips, I moved back to our dinner.
It didn’t matter how much I wanted his lips back on mine, I couldn’t do that again. We couldn’t do that again. He was my boss. I needed this job. If we did this and he found out about the model home, he would probably have me arrested. If that weren’t bad enough, the state would take my daughter away. Yes. The reasons not to do this far, far outweighed the reasons to do it.
Taking a deep breath, I got back to work and poured in the grated cheese when Sophie and her friend, Stella, walked in and grabbed a seat at the kitchen table. With them was an older woman, who was tall like Damon and Sophie with their same olive-colored skin and chocolate-brown eyes. There was a simple grace about her, she looked over at me and smiled, scooting past Damon and smacking him upside the head.
“Ow, Mana.” He rubbed the spot, but I doubted she actually hurt him.
“You must be Katy. Hi, I’m Christine. I’m Damon’s mother. It’s so nice to meet you. I hear you have a beautiful daughter. Where is she?”
I moved to greet Mrs. Christakos and held out my hand. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Christakos. My daughter is upstairs asleep at the moment, but I’m sure that she will be down soon.”
“Call me Christine. Come sit, let me get to know you. I can wait for your daughter. I’m in no hurry.” I looked up to see Damon roll his eyes and Sophie and Stella quietly laugh. My only assumption was that this was typical behavior for Christine. “I need to finish dinner, are you hungry?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so inconsiderate. I should have brought dinner over. You two eat, we can come back tomorrow.” Christine turned and grabbed ahold of Sophie’s hand, but she and Stella were not budging.
“Oh no. We’re fine. Go ahead and eat. We’ll keep you company.” I wanted to roll my eyes, but I didn’t want to be rude si
nce all eyes were on me.
“No, it’s fine we have a few minutes. I still need to get Bee up. I’ll finish in the kitchen and then get her so that you all have time to talk.”
“Oh no. We see him all the time. We came for you.” Stella reached out, grabbed my hand, and swung it back and forth in almost childlike excitement and mischief.
“Okay.” I swallowed thickly and took a seat next to Christine, residing myself to twenty questions. Damon, the chicken shit, just smiled and ducked into the kitchen to finish cooking our dinner.
“I wanted to invite you and your daughter to our house on Monday. We’re having a huge picnic since the kids are out of school and everyone is off work.”
“I promise it’ll be fun.” Sophie smiled at me.
In a tone that really should have remained inner monologue, I said, “I promise it’ll be fun. Sure, that’s what they say about morning sex unless you’re on the bottom bunk in prison.”
Stella let out a loud guffaw. Sophie cracked up, and Damon appeared in the doorway, just staring at me. I felt the heat rise onto my cheeks and stood to dash off to the bathroom, but Christine was like a cobra, her hand shot out and grabbed mine.
“Well, now, isn’t that the truth.” Her smile was radiant. She actually seemed pleased by my snark. “I’m glad to know that you can hold your own against these two.”
“Mom? Moooommmmy?” Bee’s shouts rang from upstairs, and it freaked me out. She only called me mommy when she wanted something or something had happened. Before I could run or shout to calm her down, Damon was up the stairs, bounding by two. In seconds, I heard Bee let out a giggle.
“That man is going to make one of the world’s greatest dads someday,” Sophie said with a wide smile. This family was invasive and had no respect for boundaries but they genuinely loved each other. I was so fucking jealous.
The giggles got louder, and I looked up to see her riding piggyback on Damon. “Hi, Miss Sophie.”
“Hi, Bee.” Damon let her slide down, and she ran over to hug Sophie. “This is Stella, she is Harlow’s aunt.”
“I saw you today. Are you my aunt too?”
“Sure, why not,” Stella answered, waving a hand in the air as if it were no big deal and completely oblivious to just how big of a deal it was.
Bee didn’t know what it felt like to have those you loved turn their back on you. But I did. I needed to protect her. “Bee, she’s not your aunt. I told you that I didn’t have any sisters. You may call her Miss Stella.”
Five sets of eyes turned to me, one was full of understanding, one was full of disappointment, and the other three were full of unvoiced questions. I shifted uncomfortably, but Bee turned to Christine.
“Who are you?” Bee asked.
“Bee.” I gave her a stern look. “That was rude. You introduce yourself first. You know better.”
“Hello, I’m Bee. Who are you?”
Everyone laughed at Bee’s quick way to still find out her answer, everyone except me, and they let me off the hook for forcing Bee to call Stella Miss.
“I’m his mommy.” Christine pointed to Damon. Bee’s mouth dropped wide open.
“Your mom is still alive?” She looked over at Damon before turning wide eyes to me. I dropped my head, admiring the color of my shoes as I worked to avoid the embarrassment of my kid’s outburst.
“Yep, I’m still alive. And so is his daddy.”
Chapter 13
Katy
By the time dinner was done and Damon’s family left, it was nearly ten o’clock. I was pooped.
“I’m heading out, so if you need anything, just call me and I can be here in a second. If you want, we can carpool to work.” Damon sounded a little hesitant.
“I drop Bee off at school at seven-thirty.”
“We can both drop her off and then head into the office if you’d like. How far is her school?”
“Across town.” I was transitioning back into bitch mode, but I needed to make sure that he didn’t think that with Bee upstairs we were going to continue where the kiss had left off.
“Well, she only has two more weeks, right?”
“Yep,” I agreed. “But then I’ll have to take her to the community center, they’ll watch her all day while I’m at work.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at work then.” Damon didn’t move, he just stared at me, and I felt the weight of his gaze pressing in on me. He moved closer, but I took a step back.
It was an awkward move, but I needed him to know that this wasn’t happening. I needed to know it, prove to myself that I could handle this. “Good night.”
“Good night, Katy.” He headed for the door then stopped and turned to face me. “If you tell me right now that you don’t feel a single thing for me, that there’s no spark, then I won’t try again and will consider myself lucky to have the world’s best assistant. If you do feel a spark, then just know we can go at any speed that you want, but we are going.” He waited for a few seconds.
His words blanketed all thoughts in my head. I couldn’t have said a word if I’d wanted to, and truthfully, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. I knew I should push him away, that the cons outweighed the pros, and that if this went sideways I would be worse off than before I met him. But a tiny part inside me that I wanted so desperately to ignore was whispering that I needed to trust someone. Have someone that I could talk to that had the vocabulary above a third grader. And damn it all to hell, I missed being held.
“Morning.” I waved to Jenny as I passed her office, smiled at her quintessential eighties-era suit with the shoulders pads that looked like she was ready to take the field. I wasn’t sure how she moved her neck with those things, but she did and always glanced over to give me a wide smile.
“Morning, George. Morning, Damon.” I moved to my office and set my purse and lunchbox under my desk. My comfort level not just in my position but also with the people had quickly made this my favorite job ever. Jenny had mentioned she’d worked here since Damon was little, and the woman in HR had been here for twenty years. I could totally understand that. I could see myself staying here. Well, provided I didn’t totally fuck it up and start thinking about doing all kinds of sexy things with my boss.
I was printing off applications for permits when my phone rang. “Christakos Construction, this is Katy, how may I help you?”
“I need to speak with Damon Chris Tacos.” I fought to hold back my laugh. That was a new one.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Christakos is in a meeting. I’m his assistant is there something that I can help you with?”
“Yes, this is Winona Jeffries. My husband and I purchased the property in phase three, and I just drove by the property. They have poured the concrete. You have to go out there and see, they’ve messed up.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jeffries. Can you be a little more exact? How did they mess up?”
“Our home, it’s supposed to be thirty-seven hundred square feet, that concrete slab is probably the size of my garage, it’s tiny. I tell you, tiny. T-I-N-Y. It’s so tiny that if I dropped my handkerchief in there, I’d have wall to wall carpeting.”
“I get your point, Mrs. Jeffries, it appears small. But that is normal.” Thank God Damon had gone through all of this with me and some of the calls I could expect. “First of all, remember that your house is two-story, so the concrete will only appear to be half the size of your square footage. Once the walls go up, you will get an idea of how large your home truly is.”
“Katy, I think you’re wrong. There is no way that can be my house. My shoes won’t fit in there.”
“Mrs. Jeffries, Christakos Construction has been in business a long time and has earned their stellar reputation by doing their job right. Trust me on this. You will be surprised once the walls go up.”
“If it isn’t, I’m getting the Better Business Bureau involved.”
I let out a soft sigh. “I would encourage you to.” We disconnected, and I pulled out the Jeffries’ file, made note of her call, and the
n flipped the file shut.
Damon had warned me about these kinds of calls, and all I needed was a suspected haunting and possible sinkhole, and I would have bingo.
“Hungry for pizza?” Damon stood at my door, keys in hand.
I pushed out a deep breath and tossed the file back on top of the stack. “Sure, why not.” I had brought peanut butter and jelly, but in no way did that compare to pizza. I followed him outside and was too busy contemplating how exactly he managed to be so self-assured without being intimidating to realize we were walking to his truck.
He opened the door for me, and I paused, my eyes flicking between the step bar and the actual cab. There was no way. I couldn’t climb up while maintaining one ounce of professionalism in my skirt. I backed up a step, colliding with a very solid, very warm chest, and his hands found my hips.
“Here, let me help you up.”
He didn’t give me a second to protest before he walked me forward and lifted me, my ass landing in the seat of the truck, but something—I wasn’t sure what—was left in the parking spot. Oh, that was my resolve at trying not to have inappropriate thoughts about my boss because his heat and his hands had my imagination turning me into a total hussy. I wanted to let out a sigh at the romance of it all, the cliché boss boinks secretary scenario.
At Antonio’s, we grabbed a table and sat across from each other. After snagging one of the menus that was stacked behind the napkin holder, I opened it and looked at the items. “What do you like on your pizza? I usually get just cheese, well, extra cheese.”
“No veggies?” he’d asked, as if affronted.
“Nah. Veggies will kill you.”
“What?”
“How many times do you hear about someone choking to death? It’s always the stuff that’s good for you. I can’t help but think to myself, I bet gooey cheese or a doughnut wouldn’t have done that.”
When the waitress came by, Damon was still laughing at my no vegetable joke as he ordered a large pizza half with everything and half with extra cheese only.
Impact (Iron Orchids Book 3) Page 8
