by Caisey Quinn
A lot of guys liked to flirt with me at the bar, but the few who made it past my brothers couldn’t get past my involvement with Jonah.
They all assumed we were already sleeping together. Sometimes I wished they were right.
I nod. “Okay, so we’re clear then. You’re not interested in any type of relationship with me other than a professional one. And I professionally would like to be your assistant instead of your dog walker. So where does that leave us?”
His eyes tighten at the edges. “We’ve covered this. You don’t know what you’re asking and I don’t think you can handle that position. Next topic.”
I shake my head. “You have no clue what positions I can handle, Jonah. Because you’ve pigeon-holed me as your sweet little dog walker. Which I was, two years ago. But I’m twenty-four now and I’m ready to move out on my own and be an adult. If you really won’t consider me for the promotion, then I need to put in my notice and find something else before I wake up a thirty-year-old dog walker. We both know I’m capable of more than that.”
He throws his hands up and blows out an exasperated breath. “You want me to change the title? Fine. How about professional pet specialist? That better?”
“Fuck you, Jonah.”
We stand there, stunned by my outburst. This is worse than the towel incident because this time I wounded him. Intentionally.
But I’m drowning in my own hurt feelings and don’t have the air in my lungs to apologize.
Cars go by down the street, someone honks a horn. But Jonah and I stand in silence. Breathing. Hearts beating. Locked in some sort of stand-off I don’t know how to navigate.
“I’ve never heard you speak that way,” he says quietly. “Good for you. That was disrespectful and I’m sorry.”
What the…
I cross my arms, rubbing them to create warmth. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. But my feelings are hurt that you don’t think I can do this job. I don’t understand why you won’t give me a shot. A trial run or a probationary period. Something.”
He stares down at his shoes for what feels like forever.
When he looks up, his eyes are softer. More vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them.
He takes a step closer to me. “I don’t want to lose you, Hollis. It’s selfish, I know. But you’re the only constant in my life. Everyone else…”
“Leaves,” I finish, because I’ve noticed this.
Erma is the second housekeeper he’s had in two years. Eli just left. And Elaine is probably only three years or so from retiring.
He nods but says nothing.
“I don’t want to leave you, Jonah. But I have other skills besides walking dogs and cleaning up after them.”
His brows lift. “You realize being my assistant is just walking me and cleaning up after me, right?”
“Very funny.” I stare at him intently. “I’ll have you know I maintain the books, the event calendar, payroll, and the employee schedule for this bar. I have for years. I create all of the promotional items and manage multiple social media platforms. I even designed the shirts the waiters and waitresses are wearing.” I reach out, tugging at his jacket. Maybe to keep his attention so he’ll hear me, or maybe because I need some form of connection. “On top of that, I take care of Zeus and Ache like they’re my own. And you already know I’ve been handling several of Eli’s responsibilities since he left.”
“Sounds like a job interview.”
“Maybe it should be.”
Jonah’s eyes fall to my hands on his jacket. “You still going to follow through with your list?”
The list. I’d almost forgotten.
I nod. “If that’s what it takes for you to see I’m not some innocent goody two shoes who can’t handle the messes you make.”
“Goody two—” he stops himself and gives me an amused grin. “If you really want to see what it’s like being my assistant day in and day out, then I’ll show you. But don’t be surprised if it isn’t as glamorous as you expect it to be.”
“So I got the job?” I barely tamp down the urge to squeal excitedly.
“You got a trial run, like you said. I won’t hire anyone else for the position until after New Year’s. Until then, if you can prove to me you can handle this and not bail, it’s yours.”
I let out a small sound of surprise. “You won’t regret this, Jonah.”
“I wish I believed that.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “Before you walk the dogs tomorrow morning, meet me at six thirty at the gym.”
I nod adamantly. “Got it.”
He holds up his index finger. “One condition.”
“Anything.”
He leans in so close our noses almost touch. “Tonight, your brother asked me if I kept you around for the view or for a back up piece of ass. That’s not why and you know it but I can’t unsee what I saw today. So from now on, you keep your clothes on. All of them. For the sake of my sanity and my face. Please.”
So that’s what he meant by it will never be like that. I shouldn’t care, but I’m human and I do.
“I’ll do my best.”
He sighs as he steps backward. “Guess I’ll take what I can get.”
8
HOLLIS
ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE
The next morning I call the Glen Oak Alzheimer’s Center on the way to Jonah’s gym to let them know I’ll be a little late today. Not that my grandpa will notice either way, but I like to give the staff a heads up.
I don’t know what Jonah has planned for me, but since we’re meeting at the private gym where he works out, I wore workout clothes. Clad in my only clean sports bra, which happens to be hot pink, a white tank, and black dri-fit capri pants, I grab a gray hoodie from my backseat and yank it on before I get out of the car.
The outside air is ice-cold, coating my lungs as I make my way inside. Warmth welcomes me along with the scent of cleaner and sweat and something chemical—like rubber or new plastic—as I step into the gym.
The large black warehouse is brightly lit and Jonah stands in the center of a boxing ring with another man about his size.
“She made it,” the man says.
I check my phone before dropping it into my bag. It’s six twenty-five.
“With time to spare,” I say with a smile, pulling myself up to the ropes. “I’m Hollis Rossi.”
“Cal Murphy,” he says, removing a glove to shake my hand with his large meaty one. He’s a wall of a man with a red face and strawberry blond hair.
“Nice to meet you, Cal.”
“Nice to meet you, though I can’t say I agree with Jonah’s choice of sparring partner this morning.”
I glance at Jonah. He shrugs and yanks his sweatshirt off. “She says she wants this job. This is where I do my best thinking.”
He stands in only a pair of black mesh basketball shorts. There’s white athletic tape on his wrists and ankles. My mouth runs dry at the sight of his ink-covered muscles.
“Good luck to you, darlin,’” Cal says as he climbs down from the ring. “Take it easy on him.”
Jonah wears a confident smirk. “Think you can handle this?” He hands me small pair of thin padded gloves.
“Are you really going to hit me?”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re just going to workout, Hollis. Relax.” He pulls some type of padded shield onto each of his hands. “Hit the pads. Right then left.” I took a self-defense class a few years ago sponsored by my brother’s prescient. This should be easy enough.“You look disappointed. Were you hoping to get a few good hits in?”
I grin as I take turns landing solid hits on the pads. “Nah. But whacking you a few good ones might help relieve some of my pent up aggression.”
“You’re pent up? After your exhaustive research on all those vibrators I would’ve thought you’d have worked out all your aggression already.”
Little did he know, I’d been pent up since puberty. “You might be surprised.”
For a spl
it second, our eyes meet and I lose focus. His chest and abdominal muscles flex and my gaze is drawn to them.
“Eyes up here, Rossi,” he says sternly.
I give the pads on his hands a few more solid whacks until I’ve worked up a decent sweat, then we switch.
Before I put the pads on my hands, I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. Despite his request that I keep my clothes on, I pull my hoodie and tank top over my head and toss them onto a metal folding chair in the corner.
Jonah takes a long, hard look at my exposed skin. “Pink?” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“You got something against pink, Jonah?”
“I’m good with pink,” is all he says. His hand hits mine on the outside corner of the pad then slips.
Twice.
“Eyes up here,” I tease.
He takes a step back. “I just remembered I still need to, uh, get some cardio in. Let’s head upstairs.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” On our way, he stops at a glass-enclosed refrigerator and hands me a bottle of water. I down nearly the entire thing. “Where are the stairs?”
Jonah’s lips twitch. He jerks his chin toward the back of the building. “No stairs. Only two ways up.”
A rope and a climbing wall await us. Okay, so not ideal. But I can handle this.
“Which one do you want?”
He shrugs. “Either is fine.”
“I’ll take the wall,” I say, thinking it will be slightly easier.
I’m wrong.
Halfway up my shoulders are on fire.
“You okay, Rossi?” Jonah ask as he passes me on the rope.
“Yep. Just enjoying the wicked view of your ass.”
He laughs, reaching the platform and looking down at me. “Time is money, Rossi. Get a move on.”
The challenge sparks the competitive streak in me and I hustle to the top. He reaches a hand down and I let him pull me onto the platform. My legs are weak from the strain and I stumble, falling into his arms like a clumsy idiot.
“Easy, slugga,” Jonah jokes as my sweaty chest presses against his.
“I’m good,” I say, stepping backward.
Be professional. Do not let him see you sweat.
Guess it’s a little late for that last part.
I follow Jonah to a row of ellipticals and treadmills. He gets on a treadmill and ramps up the incline higher than I’ve ever seen a person set it before. I hop on the elliptical beside him.
The faster I go, the more he increases his speed until we’re both panting heavily.
“So you and Eli did this every morning?” It’s a struggle not to let him hear how hard I’m working to breathe normally.
Eli was in great shape but he was British and extremely refined. I can’t picture him huffing and puffing on the treadmill first thing every morning.
“Most days. That going to be a problem?”
“Nope. No problem at all. Not that much different than running with Achilles in the mornings.”
Jonah grins smugly at me. “This is just the warm up.”
My jaw clenches in determination and I force the brightest smile I can. “Awesome.”
An hour later, every muscle in my body burns, and some in my ass that I didn’t even know I had, but I feel more awake and alert than I typically do at this ungodly hour.
After cardio, we lifted weights and I did my best to help Cal spot Jonah while he rattled off ideas he had for the WDA. Then we did an ab workout that would’ve made a nun cuss while he planned out his travel plans for the next six months to visit remote areas where rare species of animals are said to be endangered.
He really does seem to do his best thinking here.
“You going to be okay?” Jonah asks me as we cool off and I down another bottle of water by the lockers.
I nod. “I’m good. You okay?”
Jonah opens his mouth to answer but Cal walks over and slaps him hard on the back. “You should bring her by more often. I haven’t seen you work that hard since you left the UFC.”
Busted.
I grin. “I thought you and Eli did this every morning?”
“Thanks a lot, Cal,” he mutters under his breath.
I grab my tank and hoodie and pull them on. “I’d love to stay but I’ve got plans.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Jonah offers.
He follows me to my car, opening the door for me. I lower myself inside, biting back a groan. Definitely going to need a heating pad for my sore muscles tonight.
“Hot date?” He inquires with a raised brow.
Resisting the urge to laugh, I nod. “Brunch with an older man.”
Like sixty years older.
Jonah’s brows dip inward. “Order something expensive.”
I grin. “It’s a private establishment. There’s a very selective menu.”
Soup or Jell-O.
“You still walking the dogs later?”
I put my keys in the ignition. “Of course. Same time as always?”
“Unless you’re tied up with your date,” he counters. His tone is light but his eyes are dark.
“Hmm, tied up does sound good now that you mention it.”
Jonah shakes his head as I turn the key in the ignition. A clicking sound answers me but the engine doesn’t crank.
“What the…” I turn the key again. This time there’s nothing except deafening silence. I groan. I really need to get to the center and I don’t have all day or the money to deal with getting my car towed and repaired.
“Sounds like your battery is dead,” Jonah offers. “I have jumper cables in the Rover. Hang tight, I’ll grab them.”
“Thanks,” I say before he jogs toward his vehicle.
A few minutes later, Jonah connects the cables between my battery and his. Cal comes outside and checks to see if we need anything. Jonah has him crank his Rover.
I glance at my phone and see that it’s after eight. I’m going to be later than I thought. The center is a little over half an hour away.
“I bet it’s your alternator,” Cal informs us when my engine still won’t turn over. “It’s gone out so it sucked your battery dry. You’ll need a new one.”
My emotions must be all over my face because Jonah steps closer. “I have a mechanic friend. I’ll call him.”
I want to hug him. “Thank you. I’ll pay whatever it is.”
He waves me off as he pulls out his phone and steps a few feet away from us.
“I have a client coming,” Cal tells us. “But if you want to leave the car until the wrecker comes, I can take the keys.”
I hand them over. “You’re an angel, Cal. Thank you so much.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” he says before heading back inside.
While Jonah is distracted, I take the opportunity to call the center and tell them I’m running a little later than expected and they can let my grandpa go ahead and eat and take his nap when he’s ready.
When I hang up, Jonah is watching me closely. “My buddy is on the way with the wrecker. Everything all right with your date?”
I nod. “He’s going to go ahead and eat without me.”
Jonah smirks. “And take a nap?”
“You saw me in there. I’m an animal. He needs to rest up.” I lean against the car and give up the charade. “Every Saturday, before I walk the dogs, I go see my grandpa at an Alzheimer’s Center about half an hour from here. Sometimes we have breakfast together and I give him a shave. I usually bring him something—socks, a blanket, whatever he needs. I was bringing him a robe today. His nurse said he’s been walking around in his tighty whities. Doesn’t look like I’m going to make it today after all. The staff will have to suffer through another day of gramps in his undies.”
Jonah twirls his keys around his index finger. “Come on, Rossi. I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s like thirty-five miles away,” I tell him.
“And?”
“You don’t have any plans today?”
>
He shrugs. “None that I can’t put off for a few hours.”
“You sure?”
“I offered, didn’t I?”
I grab my bags from the car, including Grandpa’s new robe, and follow Jonah to the Rover.
“I really appreciate this,” I tell him as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Don’t mention it,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road.
For the next half hour, we argue over music—him wanting to listen to death metal and me preferring the Christmas carols on the oldies station.
We compromise and listen to Christmas carols on the oldies station.
When we arrive, he looks ready to bolt from the vehicle like a tortured animal.
“Not a fan of the holidays?” I inquire as we walk inside the center.
“Not really.” He pulls on his black sweatshirt and I notice the WDA logo in the top left corner. It’s almost too small to be legible. I make a mental note to talk to someone in the Marketing department about enlarging it.
“How come?”
Shrugging, he pulls his hood up over to cover his head. “Just wasn’t all that special when I was growing up so I was never too excited about it.”
I don’t know much about his childhood and he seems uncomfortable enough as it is, so I don’t push.
Once we reach the main desk, I greet Wanda, my grandpa’s regular day nurse and she asks how my family is doing. We catch up briefly and I show her the robe I brought.
“The entire staff will be grateful,” she says with a smile. “He’s quiet today. I don’t know if he ever did take a nap but he wouldn’t eat a bite for me. Maybe you will have better luck than I did.”
Jonah follows me tentatively down the hall to my grandfather’s room.
“What’s your grandpa’s name?”
“Ralph Leery. We call him Gramps. My mom calls him Pop.” I stop when we get to his door. I should’ve prepared Jonah better on the drive up. “Look, he doesn’t hear very well and he doesn’t always know who I am. Most of the time he thinks I’m my mom so I go with it. They encourage us to correct him gently here but we have to be careful not to agitate him or that’s the end of the visit. He’s also a diabetic and he gets cranky if his sugar is low. If you’d rather hang out in the waiting room, I completely under—”
