My dad looks up from behind the counter and frowns. “Payton, you should've worn jeans.”
I shake my head and walk over to kiss his cheek. “I think there's enough testosterone in here.”
“It's a garage not a fashion show,” he says, leading me down a hallway to the office.
“Well this place could use a woman’s touch,” I tell him. I already know that customer service counter needs some fresh flowers. It's boring and drab.
“Fire up the computer,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll be back in a few to get you started.”
The leather chair let's out a squeak when I sit down. I survey the office. How do people work like this? It's four white walls, one with a time clock, a desk, two leather chairs and a trash can. This room needs some life if I'm going to be spending eight hours a day here. I pull the daisy covered pen holder from my purse and set it on the oak desk. It's a start.
As I’m booting up the computer, the door creaks open.
“Who are you?” a husky voice asks.
I swivel around. “Payton.” I look up and my heart slams against my chest. It’s him—blowjob guy. He seems taller, but maybe that's because he's not hunched over shoving his dick down someone's throat. He's hot; I'll give him that. Brown hair all over the place, green eyes full of mischief, and a body that clearly shows he visits the gym often.
Unable to stop it, my cheeks warm.
“You work here?” he asks.
“Yes.” We both gawk at each other while the air in this stuffy office fills with awkwardness. “My dad owns the place.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “About last night, I don’t normally do that at work.”
“It’s fine.” I want the conversation to end. How uncomfortable. I squeeze my thighs together at the thought of it. Cause if I'm being honest, it turned me on.
And I’m not that type of girl. It’s like something else took over, and I stood frozen in place, watching.
The man in my office takes a deep breath. “The name’s Asher.”
I don’t care, do I?
“Nice to meet you. I’m Payton,” I say in a tiny voice. Why am I nervous?
His eyes rake over my body, heating it up. Actually, it’s like it sets it on fire or something.
I shake my head, regaining control of this situation.
“You know what, don’t let it happen again, or I’ll tell my father,” I say. God, I sound like a narc or a goody-goody.
His lip lifts at the one corner. “You wouldn’t want that to happen again with anyone else, would you? Just you, right?”
I sit up straighter in my chair. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant.”
He nods, moving closer. “I think it’s exactly what you meant.”
Asshole. I wish he’d leave. I need a moment of silence to think about all of these raging emotions I have...well, raging.
“Can you please get back to work?” I tap at the keys of the computer, letting him know this conversation is over.
His steel-toe boots step closer, and he leans in close to my ear. “I won’t let anyone near my dick unless she’s got lips like yours.”
Now that’s done it. My insides burst into flames. I don’t know if it’s from anger or arousal. Either way, he needs to get the hell out of here. So arrogant.
I look up at him. “Are you always this...cocky?”
“Asher, I see you met my daughter,” my father’s loud voice barks out.
The way he says daughter makes me cringe, like an elementary teacher’s notes they’d send home.
Asher snaps his head to my father, before whipping it back to me, searching my face. He narrows his eyes at me and steps away. “Yes, we’re just getting to know each other,” he says, patting my father’s shoulder on his way out.
“Payton, come here,” my father motions. “Let me introduce you around.” We walk into the garage where guys are busy under the hood of a car or under a car on the lift and he stops, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Guys, this is my daughter, Payton. She’ll be working in the office, so no reason to bother her,” my dad says.
The whir of tools and clatter of all things mechanic stops. I don’t want to look around because I know he's in this group of men staring at me. If I could keep my focus on the oil stained concrete floor, that would be great, but it’s impossible. My eyes immediately crash into the green eyes of Asher.
He lifts one side of his mouth in a grin, and I ignore him and give a little wave to the guys. After a few minutes, I turn to go as my dad continues to talk.
The morning flies by as my dad teaches me his way of doing things. Answering the phone, filing, ordering parts, it’s all so boring, which is something I’m not used to. I like a challenge, but I know I’m not going to find that here.
“Pizza’s in the back room. Go take your break,” my dad says, reading over some paperwork as he walks past me.
Walking into the back room, I’m relieved that it’s empty. And when I say empty, I mean empty. There is a table with four blue backed chairs, a fridge, and a microwave. A counter runs along the wall beside the fridge and it's empty. No cookie jar, no basket for silverware, just a few paper napkins. I'll have to fix that.
I grab a slice of pepperoni pizza and sit down at the small, metal table. Taking a bite, I moan at how good New York pizza is. When my parents divorced, I’d spend the summers with my father. One of my favorite things in the world is when he would take me into Manhattan to get a pie. Once I hit my teens, my trips here grew further and further apart. I forgot how much I missed being here. Being around him.
“Sounds familiar,” a deep voice says.
Swallowing a few times to wet my suddenly dry throat, I take a breath.
“Your weekend must’ve sucked if that’s what you remember,” I say, biting into my pizza.
He sits down across from me, grinning. “Such a smartass, I like that. But the sucking was only the beginning of my weekend.”
“From what I saw, it doesn’t look like you’re too picky about what you like or how bad it sucked,” I say, lifting my shoulders.
He laughs. “Sweetheart, you enjoyed watching so much I’m willing to bet you haven’t been fucked in a long time.”
What a jerk. A muscular, sexy as fuck, asshole, who is absolutely right. Flipping my brown hair over my shoulder, I put my elbow on the table and rest my chin on my hand. “I’m not your sweetheart, and my sex life is none of your business.”
“What the fuck?” my father booms out. “Asher, I assumed you liked your job.”
He closes his bright eyes briefly as my father moves closer to the metal table.
“Dad, relax. We were talking about a movie, quoting lines from it. Stop jumping to conclusions, Asher has been nothing but a gentleman,” I say, smiling at Asher when I’m finished.
He stands and slaps my dad on the back. “I respect you too much to screw you over, Robert.” Turning his head, he gives me a grin. “I’ll think of a better movie to talk about tomorrow, Payton.”
Sitting in the chair Asher just vacated, my dad sighs, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Payton, don’t let these guys try and sweet talk you.” He looks at me over the rim of his black bifocals. “The ones who aren’t married, sleep around and don’t care about women. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you be a notch in their bed post.”
“Nothing to worry about. I’m not here for that.” Getting up I kiss his cheek. “Besides, I can handle myself better than you think.”
The rest of the day passes in a whirl of mundane tasks. At six o’clock, I grab my handbag and get ready to go home. Well, my temporary home. As soon as I’m ready, I can move on. Walking through the garage, I smile to the guys still working. This isn't so bad, I made it through my first day. I’m almost out the door when a hand wraps around my wrist. Instinct kicks in, and I toss back an elbow, connecting right to his ribcage.
“Fuck, relax,” Asher grunts.
Clo
sing my eyes briefly, I blow out a breath and spin around. “Sorry, self-defense classes are paying off,” I joke, trying to make light of the situation.
“Apparently,” he says, releasing my arm. “Thanks for that bullshit story earlier. You know, I’m originally from California. Seems we might have a bit more in common than you think.”
Grabbing my keys out of my purse, I shrug. “I doubt that, but no problem about the story. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Asher.”
He nods and goes back to cleaning up his tools. Before I turn and walk outside, I take a second to admire the way his ass looks in his torn jeans.
As I hop inside the old, little beater car my father lent me, I take another glance as Asher bends over to pick up a wrench off the ground. I’m not used to a man like him. A take no prisoner kind of attitude. My stomach swims with butterflies as I think about him on my way home.
Chapter Three
───────────────
Asher
These past few days with Payton around the office has been a distraction. A distraction I can't afford, since her dad is my boss. She’s cute, though, with her skirts and high heels. I step foot into the break room, and there she is. Huge smile, pink little ribbon in her hair, and a ladder next to her.
She looks over at me as I grab a water bottle from the fridge. “Oh, Asher, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”
I scrub a hand down my jaw. “Really? Why?”
“Can you hold the ladder? I want to hang these.” She points to three small framed snapshots.
“Um, does the break room really need pictures?”
“These aren’t just pictures. They’re art.” She holds up the framed photo in her hands. “It’s a cute little brook hiding in the mountains. Besides, if you can't be outdoors, why not bring it inside.”
It’s as if I’ve just offended the whole country with my statement. She’s upset, judging by the flush on her cheeks, so I set my water down and step closer to grab onto one of the rungs. “Didn’t know the fate of the world depended on pictures.”
She giggles, a soft, cute little laugh. “Well it does.”
“Great, we’re all doomed then.”
She climbs the ladder, and her long, silky leg brushes past me on her way up. Trying to keep my gaze fixated on the clock, watching the second-hand tick by, I blink as she loses her footing.
I reach my hand out to steady her, grazing my fingers along her inner thigh. “Are you ok?” I ask.
“I think so.” She straightens her posture.
“That picture almost cost you your life. Hope it was worth it.”
She looks down at me and our eyes meet. “It is definitely worth it.”
My damn hand is still on her leg, and I move it off as quickly as I can. Now I have nowhere to stare. Her legs are right in front of me. I could glance up and maybe catch a quick glimpse of her panties. Idiot. This isn’t high school. I return my attention back to the clock.
“There. All finished,” she says, making her way back down the ladder.
“Pictures hanging in the break room. All’s right with the world.” I laugh.
Her hand slaps my chest, and I like the way her smile makes her eyes light up. “Thank you for your help,” she says, softly.
She’s really fucking close. Her perfume tickles my nose. I step back, crossing my arms across my chest. “No problem.” I need out of here.
I step into the hallway and catch Brett walking toward me out of the corner of my eye. “Hey man, want to have a drink tonight?” he asks.
“Yes,” I shoot back not even thinking about it. I need to drink tonight. All the beer. I need to get Payton off my mind. Her sexiness and cuteness is just, well...too much. I’ve never really met anyone like her before. I bet they have candy named after her, because she is just that damn sweet. And I'm not really used to sweet. So, yeah, I need a fucking drink.
At the end of the day, I walk into the office to clock out.
“Sir, if you’ll just let me finish speaking, I’ll explain,” Payton says, tapping a pen on the keyboard. “You were given an estimate which means it could be more or less, depending on what the guys find.”
She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I lean against the wall waiting to see how she handles this asshole customer. Her eyebrows draw together in frustration as she clutches the phone to her ear.
“No, sorry. No one else is here. They’ve all left for the night. If you think it’s too much, you can come pick up your car and get a second opinion.” I watch her eyes widen, filling with tears, as her mouth hangs open. It’s like she’s frozen and can’t move.
Pushing off the wall, I grab the phone from her. “Listen, you fucking bitch,” is all he gets out.
“Excuse me,” I shout. “Come get your fucking car. I’ll be waiting for you.” Slamming the phone down, I search her bright blue eyes. “What the hell was that about?”
“Oh...umm...he didn’t like his estimate,” she says, turning away from me.
“What did he say to you?” I push.
She stands. “Asher, it’s no big deal. Go home. I’ll wait for him to pick up his car,” she says, knocking into my shoulder as she rushes past me.
Like hell she will. I look at the computer to see who she was talking to and grab the keys to his Chevy Camaro. I drive it to the front of the building and get out, leaning against it. Lighting up a cigarette, I wait, checking behind me, every so often, to make sure Payton isn’t coming. For some reason, I want to beat the shit out of this guy for whatever he said to her.
Just as I toss my smoke, a Ford F150 pulls in, and I stand up straight. A guy in a suit climbs out of the passenger side.
“Where’s the girl I was talking to?” he yells, walking toward me.
“You’re dealing with me now,” I say, crossing my arms.
He laughs, shaking his balding head. “She has no idea how to deal with customers, or maybe it’s just men. I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge not the help.”
This fucking prick. “You’re speaking to him.”
“You’re in charge? Great,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Well, your secretary was rude. When I wanted to discuss the price, she wouldn’t allow me. It was completely unprofessional.”
“I stood there and listened in on the conversation, and she wasn’t the problem.” I toss his keys to him and the asshole he is, he misses them.
“She needs to be taught how to talk to people,” he says, bending down to pick up his keys.
Clenching my fists, I take a step toward him. “Maybe it’s you who needs to be taught, because when I grabbed the phone you were calling her a fucking bitch. Maybe I should teach you how to be fucking respectful.”
Walking past me, he mumbles, “She must be a good lay.”
Seeing red, I push him against his car, holding onto his shirt. “You ever talk about her like that again and I’ll fucking kill you,” I say, seething.
“Asher,” Payton yells, and I look up, crashing into her blue eyes.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I whisper, pushing him against the car before backing up.
He peels out of the parking lot. Payton stands still with her arms wrapped around herself, staring past me. Walking over, I gently touch her shoulder. “Payton.”
“Why would you do that?” she whispers. Unsure of how to answer, I push my hands into my pockets and shrug. “Asher, why?”
“He disrespected you, and it pissed me off.”
“You don’t even know me,” she says, tucking a lock of long brown hair behind her ear.
“No, I don’t know you, but I know you deserve respect. Everyone does.” I hate the way I felt when that asshole was disrespecting her.
A small smile pulls at her full lips and she nods. “Yeah, they do.”
“I was going to go have a few drinks with Brett. You want to come? I think you could use one.” I’d sure as hell like her to come. Over and over while I’m slamming into her.
“Oh, umm,�
� she starts, pausing to look around, “you know if my dad found out, you’d probably lose your job. I’ll just go home and have a drink, but thanks.”
She turns to go back into the garage, and I make an unexpected offer, “Dinner and beer at my place. My treat. No strings. Just friends. No one will know.”
She stops. It seems like a lifetime before she answers. “You know what? Screw it. I’d like that.”
We exchange numbers, and I give her my address. On the way home, I cancel with Brett and hit the grocery store to pick up all the things I need to grill some chicken kabobs. Yeah, I like cooking. My parents taught me well.
Twenty minutes later, I enter my place and toss my keys on the small cherry table by the door.
After a quick shower, I throw on a fresh pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt. I don’t know why I’m dressing up for Payton, but I am. It's not like this is a date. She seems like a nice girl, and I don’t normally do nice girls. Maybe we could be friends, though. Wow. That’s something I’ve never done before. Friends with a girl. Hey, crazier shit has happened.
I fire up the grill and prepare dinner. When they’re done, I set everything up on the granite island and glance around at the stark white kitchen. I'll admit it, I cleaned the stainless appliances and they gleam like a motherfucker. But this is not a date. There’s a knock at my door, and I rush to answer it. Running my fingers through my hair, I spot her on my doorstep. Fuck, she’s sexy. Her little red dress and sandals are perfect and match her ruby, red lips. Not a date. Friends. Just friends. I can do this.
“Come on in,” I say, ushering her inside.
She’s shy, moving slowly past the threshold, and I place my hand on the small of her back. She immediately sidesteps out, and I let my hand fall. It’s awkward for a moment, until she’s in the entryway.
“Ready for kabobs?” I ask with a smile.
“I’m always ready.”
I crack my neck to the side, wishing I could see what else she’s ready for. God, I’d love to find out.
Pillow Talk Page 13
