Junkyard Dog(10)

“Do you like it, though?” I ask. “We don’t have to move here or anywhere until you guys are happy.”

I feel guilty again for taking them away from Cincinnati. They lost their school, friends, and grandparents. I worried about them turning soft from that plush life, and made the decision to ditch the drama Toby’s new wife created. It was my call, but the kids have to live with the consequences.

“I like this house,” Chipper says, walking into a bedroom. “This is mine.”

Cricket runs to the second smaller bedroom. “Mine has a bigger window.”

“Mine has a bigger closet!” Chipper yells.

Smiling, I have my answer. Downstairs, I talk with Janice.

“Hayes made clear you can have whatever house you wanted. He told me to help you with moving too.”

“I don’t have much to move. We lived in a furnished house back in Cincinnati. Where’s a good place to buy furniture?”

“Mister Hayes owns Rickman’s Furniture. I’m sure you’ll get a good deal there.”

Janice’s tone makes me wonder if she thinks Hayes and I are playing hip gymnastics. She likely views me as his assistant in name only. If she works harder and helps more, I’m cool with this misperception. I learned long ago not to give a flying f*ck what strangers thought about me. Hell, I only mildly care what my friends think. Life is too short to stress others’ opinions.





EIGHT - HAYES


Who in the f*ck have I hired? Candy is a huge pain in the ass yet a great assistant. The problem is she’s a good looking chick. Scratch that. She’s f*cking gorgeous, but I’ve seen plenty of gorgeous women who might even be better looking than Candy. None of them got under my skin. Not a single f*cking one of them ever made me wonder about their soft hair.

Candy is fun to look at with her tall, athletic build. Her blonde hair hangs loosely down her back, and I find myself wondering what it looks like up in a ponytail. My obsessed brain wants to see her neck bare. She’s been my assistant for three days, and I’m already a dog in heat.

I feel her in the next room. Fucking feel her breathing. I can close my eyes and sense her on my skin. I hate how Candy toys with me without even her knowing it. What in the f*ck will happen if she ever figures out what she can do to me?

I have shit to do today. Now I have a competent assistant so I should be working more. Not me, though. Not with Candy in the next damn room.

Breaking pencils keeps me from standing up and checking on her every ten minutes. An hour later, I’m out of damn pencils, and I’m forced to ask her to bring me more. Breaking pencils isn’t a long-term f*cking plan.

I should f*ck her and be done with it. That’s what my problem is, and I know how to fix it. Give my dick what it wants so I can f*cking think straight.

If I f*ck her, she’ll think we’re an item. Women always think that shit five seconds after a man f*cks them. Only a whore is safe to f*ck without worrying about strings attached.

Candy might be capable of remaining rational after I f*ck her. Or she might want something from me. Or she might quit, and I’ll end up with those crying temps. I’m sick of listening to women cry. Candy never cries. When I yelled at her yesterday for misplacing a file, she only smiled and said she would do better. I realized later I put the file in the wrong place. I also realized she f*cking knew it was me who f*cked up. Candy shrugged it off. No doubt she’s smart and tough enough to let me f*ck her and then go back to work.

What if I f*ck her, and she remains a good employee but decides to date a guy? An * sharing my * isn’t acceptable.

Does she already have a man in White Horse?

Who is he?

I’ll find out and scare him off.

And if he doesn’t scare?

I’ll beat him with a bat.

I’ll take an ax and chop him into tiny pieces.

No, drag him behind my truck until he’s mush.

If any man in White Horse touches Candy besides me, I’ll beat him until he’s half dead. Then I’ll let him get medical treatment and heal up, so I can beat him to death for real.

By the time I walk out to where Candy plays a computer game, I’m ready to hunt someone down and kill them.

“What are you doing?”

Candy doesn’t even look at me. “My kids like Minecraft. I’m trying to care about the game.”

“You’re at work.”

“Yes, but I have nothing to do,” Candy says and then glances over her shoulder at me. “Too bad you don’t have boxes full of crap I could clean up and organize.”

My hand reaches out to touch her hair before I regain control of myself. Candy notices but only turns back to the computer screen.

“How long would it take you?” I ask, walking around the desk, so she’s forced to look at me.

“For what?”

“To clean up all this shit,” I say, waving my hand at the stacks.

Candy stands up and surveys the mess. “Depends on what’s in the boxes.”

“Business records. Tax shit.”

Candy’s sexy mouth drops open. “Shouldn’t they be at your accountant’s office or something?”

“They have their copies. I have mine.”

Candy walks to a pile of boxes and shakes her head. “Is there anything sensitive in these boxes?”