flood our campsites and trash the place. Then they wave handfuls of cash and expect us to clean up the mess. Sort of the same way she trashed her car and waved money in my face.
How often does a girl like that come through Fair Oaks?
I toss the hammer aside and stand. A thrill shoots into my chest as Olivia sucks in her bottom lip. Damn, she’s got perfect lips for a blowjob. Those pink patches still burn on the apples of her cheeks. Her slender neck is just begging for a soft bite. I look down, my cock pulsing at the sight of those peaked nipples and the thin fabric of her pajamas fluttering right over her heart. I could rip those off with one hand.
“My eyes are up here.”
Can’t blame a guy for looking. “Sorry.”
Her gaze narrows at my crapass apology.
“Come with me. I’ll make you breakfast.” Her hesitation sends a small twinge of pain to my chest. “I won’t stare at your tits. Promise.”
Olivia pushes my chest, and I’m surprised by her strength. It’s not enough to do anything to me, but still. “Thanks, but I’d rather spend the rest of my morning in peace. You know, without being insulted in every other sentence.”
“Oh, come on.”
“This is a really charming town. Very quaint. I’m starting to warm up to the place already. I got called a hooker by some man as I walked down the street.”
She looks furious as I burst into laughter. The sound is strange to hear. “That’s Pierce. He’s a bit—old-fashioned.”
“I prefer, sexist.”
“I apologize on Pierce’s behalf. He’s a crotchety old bastard, but he’s harmless.”
Olivia makes a noise like an angry cat, and suddenly I think of my mother. What she’d say if she saw me treating guests like this.
I deepen my voice, trying to be gentle for once. “Let me make you breakfast. I’ll be nice. I swear.”
The daggers in her eyes cut me deeply. “I don’t think so.”
I spend about fifteen minutes admiring the view of Olivia on her hands and knees through my kitchen window. She’s wearing another pair of those skinny jeans, which are already stained with grass. The weeding thing was kind of a joke, but she didn’t complain when I showed her where to find the gardening gloves. Just went right to it.
I’m starting to like this girl.
Too bad she seems to loathe me. I haven’t given her much reason not to. I can’t help it when getting under her skin is too damn fun. Another laugh rips through my throat as Olivia carries the bits of yanked weeds in her hands and hurls them over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. She’s got spirit. And a fine-ass body I’d love to tap.
I bang on the glass and give her a wave. She looks up, her hair falling around her face, and flips me the bird. Then I head to work. It’s a great day outside, and I find myself smiling in spite of myself. Smiling. The whole fucking town will give me a hard time if someone sees me, so I fix my expression into the permanent scowl everyone’s used to. It’s not easy feeling the warmth from the sun when so many leaves block out the light.
Hank gives me a double take when I stroll into the garage. “Are you…smiling? Man, that looks weird. Sorry, boss.”
I grunt something in response, glancing into the shop to see my guys already at work on my customers’ cars. I make out a champagne-colored Benz parked in the spot I reserve for my employees, and a tic of fury jumps in my jaw.
“Who the fuck is that?”
Hank winces as he looks in the direction of my finger. “Some guy just pulled up a few minutes ago looking for that woman who was in here yesterday.”
“Did you tell him he couldn’t park there?”
“All of us walk to work. Who cares if he parks there?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Because there’s a perfectly good spot for customers, and that asshole decided to take one of mine.”
The fucker is inside my office. I can see his blond head peeking out from the blinds.
“He’s looking for that girl,” Hank says again. “I think he’s her husband, or something.”
Runaway bride? This should be interesting. “Fine. I’ll talk to him, but then he has to move his damn car.”
“He seemed pretty pissed off.” Grimacing, Hank adds, “I told him you knew where she was.”