Tainted Love (A Lovestruck Novella Book 1) Page 6

  “No, because you don’t need any of that to prove your femininity. You’re beautiful and so sexy that you can act however you want.”

  Several times in my lifetime I’ve wished my life was actually a sitcom so that I could hit rewind and watch certain moments over and over again, because they’re just too damn good to only happen once. Like the three times I won first place in the long jump my senior year of high school, or when I was the first person in my family to graduate from college and walk across that big stage at Madison University. And now, there’s the moment from ten seconds ago that I would like to relive --- the one where a man, who seems too good to be true, throws out the sweetest, most flattering thing anyone’s ever said to me.

  Chapter Seven

  Lawson

  Fuck it. I give up.

  Trying to act like I’m not attracted to Josie isn’t working, so I’ll go with the more direct approach and see how it turns out. She’ll either flirt with me, or she’ll give me the cold shoulder to show me she’s not interested. So far, though, she’s been flirting with me, giving back just as good as everything I throw at her. Maybe I need to give her a few hours to think this through to make sure that this is what she really wants. Tonight, if there’s still a spark of interest there, then it’s on.

  The woman is hell on my restraint, though. Like right now, she’s rolling her sausage link around in the pancake syrup and licking it off before putting the link in her mouth to suck it off. She’s doing it on purpose, I know, but it’s still driving me and my aching cock crazy, even after I jerked off in her shower again this morning before I woke her up. And don’t even get me started on how sexy sleep-drunk Josie is when she wakes up arching her back and moaning in a tangle of sheets. The whole ordeal had me needing another cold shower.

  That’s it! I can’t take any more of that meat sliding in between her red, luscious lips.

  “You, um, probably need to hurry up and eat so I can get you to work,” I tell her. It’s already eight o’clock. And even though I said I would get to the garage early this morning to finish up on the AC unit, I could care less right now about rushing in. We don’t actually open until nine, so I’ll still be in half an hour early. Guess I need to post a wanted ad today on top of the million other things I need to do. But last night as I tried to fall asleep without masturbating on her couch, I realized that I’m happy that asshole was fucking my ex-bitch.

  Katrina and I were terrible together. We argued about every damn thing under the sun. Maybe opposites attract; but for the two of us, mostly it was just annoying as hell to put up with all her shit. She was a slob; and while I’m not Suzy Homemaker, I don’t like to live in a pigsty. Also, she was a vegetarian, which is fine, her decision. But she wouldn’t stop nagging the fuck out of me every time I had a burger or a steak. Like she was entitled to the freedom to not eat meat, making a big fuss about it in every restaurant we went into, yet she couldn’t respect my need for meat in my diet. She was such a goddamn hypocrite, and good fucking riddance to her!

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Josie asks, setting her fork down after she finishes eating everything on her plate, including the cock-teasing sausage. She’s like the anti-Katrina, who would go into hysterics if she had more than five M&Ms in a day.

  “I think I hated her,” I reply honestly.

  “Who?” she asks with a scrunched forehead.

  “My ex, who I will now only refer to as the whore or bitch. The two are interchangeable.”

  “Ah,” Josie says with a smile spreading across her beautiful face. “Sorry, not sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry. She was…and I was…but she didn’t have to fucking cheat on me! Why didn’t she just say it wasn’t working and move out?” I ask rhetorically.

  “‘Cause she’s a bitch, and that would’ve been an unbitchy thing to do?” Josie offers.

  “Guess so. Now that I think about it, she really was a bitch, even before the cheating.”

  “But she was hot.” Josie makes it a statement not a question.

  “Yeah, blinded by her hotness, I guess I didn’t see or didn’t want to see what was really underneath --- an annoying, cold-hearted bitch.”

  “Nice,” Josie says with a grin. “I think you should only refer to her as that, annoying cold-hearted bitch or ACHB for short.”

  “Done,” I agree. “Finished?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Josie sighs so hard her shoulders rise and fall like she doesn’t want to leave. I don’t either, which is another major difference between her and the ACHB. I was never in a hurry to get home to her at night. And in the mornings, I wanted to leave before she woke up and started nagging me. Never, after we moved in together, did I ever think about how much I wanted to be around her longer. No, it all went downhill after we started cohabitating. That wasn’t my idea at all. ACHB lost her job at a tanning salon after she set the wrong time on a bed and burnt a poor woman to a crisp. After that, she decided she wanted to travel around and try out to become a dancer for professional sports teams. So, being the nice guy I can sometimes be since she was fucking me three times a day in the beginning, I offered to let her stay with me, stay being the keyword, until she found another job. She apparently took that to mean move in indefinitely. After that, we maybe had sex once a week, and I can’t say I really missed it. Getting myself off was quicker, with less drama, so yeah…

  I, of course, pay the bill even though Josie protests, which is cute; and then a few minutes later I’m dropping her off in front of the law office where she just told me she’s been a paralegal for three years. How is it that we’ve lived only a few miles away from each other and work less than two blocks away, but have never met before this week?

  “See you tonight?” I ask. “I mean, this afternoon after work?” Shit, all I can think about is seeing her tonight, preferably in a bed, mine or hers. And since I showered using her soaps and shampoos, I’ll be inhaling her delicious scent all damn day. Moroccan My Shine, according to the label on the bottle, smells like heaven.

  “Yes, I’ll be by after work,” she answers after she climbs out of the truck, a light dusting of pink blush now coloring her flawless skin. “Usually I leave around five, unless an emergency comes up.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stick around until you come by,” I assure her. “Have a good one.”

  “You too,” she says before the door shuts, and I drive with reluctance to the shop for maybe the first time ever.

  I love the garage. It’s my happy place. The smell of it always reminds me of my grandpa, since it’s one of the first memories I have of him, my dad bringing me by to visit after picking me up from school. Grandpa Andrews would sit down and hang out in the lobby with us in his dirtied up coveralls, giving me a Sun Drop to drink and a pack of Nabs from the vending machine while he asked about my day. When I got older, thirteen or so, he let me spend a few days off in the summer with him in the garage, teaching me everything he knew. By the time I was sixteen, I was working here after school and every day during summer break to make money to buy my own car. There were so many great memories here that I couldn’t let them sell it to a stranger after we lost grandpa five years ago to a stroke that came out of nowhere.

  Everyone expected my older brother Abe to take it over, but he doesn’t give two shits about cars. So, my dad helped me get started with the financial side of things, and the rest is history. Sure, I have a degree in history; but before I could find a job teaching like I intended, I ended up owning Andrews’ Auto Shop.

  I couldn’t tell you how many customers call me Andrew because they think it’s my first name. That doesn’t bother me all that much. What does bother me is when they ask to speak to my manager because they don’t think I look old enough to run a business.

  At nine-oh-six, my first employee walks in, almost on time.

  “Hey, Law. Sorry I’m late,” Ryan, a nineteen-year-old high school dropout, says when he punches his card in on the time clock. It’s the same clock that’s been on the wall
since the garage first opened forty-five years ago. When I asked him why he had the thing, Grandpa’s response was, “Because I trust these guys.” I guess he meant that, since he trusted them, they could easily take advantage of him, so the clock was to protect himself from someone betraying his trust. Fuck if I don’t know exactly how that feels, only the guy who worked for me screwed me over in a slightly more literal way.

  “At least you’re here,” I reply, barely sparing him a glance from where I’m still working underneath the BMW’s hood.

  “Whoa,” Ryan remarks. “Why are you in such a good mood this morning? Get laid last night? Usually you bitch about me being a lazy slacker and threaten to fire me if I’m a second late.”

  “Fuck you,” I mutter in response, turning around to face him. “Besides, firing two guys in one week would be an asshole move, even for me.”

  “Two?” he says in surprise while pulling on coveralls over his street clothes. “Who got the ax? Blake for being a no-show or Todd for being a fuck up?”

  “The fuck up.”

  “Good riddance,” he replies with a chuckle. “Todd was worthless. My little sister knows more about an engine.”

  “No doubt,” I laugh. “She looking for a job?”

  “Possibly,” he says, lowering the Mercedes on the lift.

  “Well, shit, if you think she can hack it, get her in here. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to post an ad, then do interviews and all that annoying bullshit.”

  “I’ll ask her and let you know. She’s about to graduate high school, so she could use the money before she starts college this fall.”

  Watching Ryan, I look for his smirk, making sure he’s not fucking with me. “You’re serious about your sister?” I ask.

  “As a heart attack,” he replies. “Carly learned from the best --- me, of course.” He laughs, gesturing to himself. The kid does know his shit.

  It’s a short-term solution, but if it saves me the headache of finding a replacement right now, then so be it.

  “Tell her to be here after school today; and if she can show me she’s got skills, she’s hired.”

  “Awesome,” he replies, pulling his phone from his pocket coverall pocket. “I’ll text her now.”

  “Then get your ass to work,” I bark before glancing over at the clock. Ten after. “And where the fuck is Blake?”

  Chapter Eight

  Josie

  For the love of Jesús! Walking to get my coffee, I’m practically dancing along to the song stuck in my head, the one about seeing clearly now that the rain is gone. It’s gonna be a bright…well, you get the idea.

  I’ve been like this, in some sort of alternate, happy-go-lucky universe since Lawson dropped me off at work. Knowing I’ll see him this afternoon, and hoping he makes a move after this morning’s naughty banter, well, of course I’m walking on sunshine and all that nonsense.

  “Good morning!” I say brightly to Clarissa as I watch her make a pot of coffee.

  “Morning! Someone’s awfully cheery today,” she says with a smile as she looks me over from head to toe.

  “That I am,” I agree leaning my back against the breakroom counter.

  “Well, spill, bitch,” she teases.

  “Oh, I intend to, but we might as well wait for the other two hens so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

  “True,” she agrees. “Do not spill unless I’m present,” she warns with narrowed eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I agree, standing tall and giving her a mock salute. “My lips are sealed.”

  “They better be,” she mutters before leaving to man her desk at the front of the building.

  My boss is, of course, MIA this morning. Not surprising since the last few days have been busy. In his mind, he’s served his time this week, so I doubt I’ll see him again before Monday. Probably need to check his calendar to make sure there’s nothing on to be sure.

  I’ve just made it back to my boss’s desk to do just that, seeing that thankfully he can have a long weekend, when Clarissa buzzes the phone in our office.

  “Josie?”

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “You busy? Reagan’s on line two.”

  “Nope, got it,” I tell her before pressing the extension and picking up the receiver.

  “Hey, girl. What’s up?” I ask.

  “What’s up? What’s up?” she repeats vehemently. “You were supposed to call me this morning so that I could be sure that the stranger in your house didn’t murder you last night!”

  “Oh. In that case, I definitely haven’t been murdered,” I reply, twirling the long phone cord in my fingers. “Sorry, but I didn’t have my car, and Lawson wanted to get breakfast, so we ate at Herbie’s before he dropped me off at work.”

  “He stayed the night and you had breakfast together?” she asks. “That’s serious.”

  “Ah, no, he just crashed on my couch for the night, and we had pancakes and bacon. Oh and sausage,” I say with a giggle when I remember the ravenous look on Lawson’s face as I taunted him with the links. The one I’m almost certain had nothing to do with a hunger for food.

  “You fucked him, didn’t you?” Reagan exclaims in my ear so loudly I have to pull the phone away.

  “No, I didn’t,” I correct.

  “Why not? You better hurry! You only have like…three more days!”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Madam Tess said you only have seven days to seal the deal. Sunday will be the seventh. Or will it be the sixth?”

  Is that what she said? Do I buy into it? That Lawson’s “the one” and all that jazz?

  “Calm your tits,” I tell Reagan and smile when I hear her gasp at the horribly sexist remark. “It might happen, you know, like tonight.”

  “You’re in love with him!” she squeals.

  “Am not! I’ve known him all of…twelve hours,” I tell her when I do the math.

  “Time doesn’t matter when you find your soulmate,” she says all breathy and dreamlike.

  “Okay. I’ll admit I like him. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s gorgeous and buff, and we get along great, but we just met!” I reiterate my point.

  “So?”

  “So, this is real life, not a fairytale where the knight sweeps the woman off her feet five seconds after they meet and then live happily ever after. This is real life where shit happens, like knights deciding to fuck other princesses and vice versa. It’s not all rosy and perfect.”

  “You have issues; and if you don’t get the hell over them, you’re gonna let this guy slip right through your fingers,” she argues.

  “Anyway, I need to get back to work, and you need to return to reality, so I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?” I ask to try and end this conversation. Everything is new, like still in the plastic wrapping new. I can’t be thinking Lawson and I are soulmates or whatever crazy nonsense.

  “Fine. Call or at least text me tonight to let me know you’re still alive,” she says with a huff.

  “Will do,” I promise, before dropping the phone back into the cradle. That one is a handful sometimes.

  A few minutes later my cell phone pings with a new message. I assume it’s Reagan talking more nonsense, but the text is actually from Lawson. Just seven words, and I’m officially smitten.

  “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

  …

  Lawson

  “How’s it going?” I ask Carly, anxious for her to hurry and get done with the maintenance test before Josie shows up. I’ve got her doing the procedures on my truck in case she royally fucks up. So far, Carly’s easily changed the oil, checked and topped off all the other fluids and put on a new air filter. Now I’m just waiting for her to check the air pressure in the tires. These are all basic things that we do routinely a dozen or more times a day. That’s what I need her for, the minor things that are easy, but seriously slow us down. Ryan, Blake and I can handle the actual real deal repair work.

  On the third tire, I lose my
patience. It’s five after five, so Josie will be here any minute and I don’t want any gawkers around for what I have planned for her.

  “Looks great, Carly. Give Ryan your schedule, and you can start when you’re ready,” I tell her.

  “Really? I’ve still got one tire to go,” she says, looking up at me with a grin from where she’s kneeling in front of my back tire. It’s eerie to see the similarities in her and her older brother. Both have jet black hair that almost looks blue in certain light and the same gray eyes.

  “Yeah, you’re finished for the day, and I want to hire you,” I tell her. “But I need to warn you that while I’ll do my best to make sure assholes don’t say shit to you because you’re female, I can’t guarantee it won’t happen.”

  “It’s cool,” she says. “As long as you don’t get pissed at Ryan if he punches someone.”

  “Not if they deserve it,” I assure her with a chuckle and offer her a hand up.

  “So, I really did okay?” Carly asks shyly, pushing a lock of her short black hair behind her ear.

  “Yeah, you were amazing and quick,” I tell her honestly.

  “I know I may seem young, but I really do have years of experience. Ryan was a great teacher.”

  “It shows,” I say just as I hear the click-clack of heels on the cement floor. Josie.

  Glancing over to the door, I see her in her sexy black dress, walking at a fast clip back toward the front door. What the hell?

  “Let’s call it a day, and just have Ryan let me know when you can start,” I tell her.

  “Sure,” she says as she follows me out, right on my heels. “But tomorrow works for me.”

  “Even better,” I tell her. When we step out onto the sidewalk, Josie is even farther away, heading back toward her office. Maybe she forgot something?

  “Josie!” I call out. She doesn’t turn around, but I know she heard me because her shoulders flinch. “Josie!” I yell again, waving goodbye to Carly to jog and catch up with the woman who is apparently ignoring me.

  “Josie, wait. Do you need a ride to the office?” I ask, reaching for her elbow that she instantly shrugs out of my grip.