Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(6)
Boom, boom—
I swing the door open forcefully and glare at the person standing there. “You better have a good excuse for pounding on my f*cking door this early,” I snarl.
“Mr. Cooke? You told me to be here at ten,” the person says… a woman, I can now glean, even though I’ve yet to fully open my eyes.
Squinting at her hard, my eyes still blurry, I can make out a young woman with dark brown hair and unrecognizable facial features, as I’m sure I still have drunk goggles on. “I did?”
“Um… yes, to talk about cleaning your house,” she says quietly. Even in all my hungover glory, I don’t fail to notice that she takes a small step backward.
My mind is blank for a moment, and I have no clue what she’s talking about. Clean house? Ten o’clock?
Then it sinks in… this is the woman my realtor recommended. It’s vaguely coming back to me that she called last night and we arranged a time to meet this morning.
Scratching my stomach, I open my left eye up a little bit more to take a better look, and she starts to come into better focus. Pretty girl… beautiful actually. Not in the sunny, bright way that is Casey Markham, and not in the luscious, centerfold way that is my ex, Amanda. But in a fresh, wholesome kind of way. Long, brown hair with some red glints in it, soft brown eyes, lightly tanned skin, and full lips. As a writer, I’d stereotype her as the girl next door. She’d be the classic character that would immediately get ravaged by one of the monsters in my books, just for the sake of ravaging a fresh innocent.
Taking a step back, I manage to open both eyes and clear my throat. “Sorry, I forgot, but come on in.”
She looks at me for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip and clearly indecisive about whether she should accept my invitation. I don’t wait around for her decision, instead giving her my back and walking into my kitchen. I hear her step inside and softly close the door.
Busying myself with making a pot of coffee, I watch out of my peripheral vision as she hesitantly steps into the kitchen and stands as still as a statue. I don’t turn around to look at her but ask, “What did you say your name was again?”
“Savannah,” she says softly. “Savannah Shepherd.”
After I put a filter in the machine, I scoop out some coffee, putting in extra to make it strong enough to help chase away this hangover. I take the pot and turn to fill it in the sink, giving her a quick glance. “Well, Savannah Shepherd, Casey told me that you do some house cleaning on the islands. Thought you might be interested in doing my house as well.”
She doesn’t respond to me though, so I raise my gaze up to her after turning off the water and pulling the pot back. Her wide eyes stare at me in indecision, and I suddenly wonder if she’s daft or something. “Cat got your tongue?” I ask.
Shaking her head, she casts her eyes downward. “No… it’s just. Maybe you should get dressed first before we talk.”
I blink a few times, trying to register what she’s saying, and then drop my own gaze to casually peruse myself. Well, what do you know? I’m only wearing a pair of boxers with the fly gaping wide open, and my cock is sticking out half erect.
Oops. Bet she got an eyeful when I answered the door.
Shrugging my shoulders, I adjust myself not so discreetly. I turn my back on her to fill the coffee machine up with water. Setting the pot on the burner, I flip the switch. Turning back around to face her, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. She can’t help herself… her eyes involuntarily flick down to my crotch and while I’m sure I’m completely covered after my adjustment, I’m betting I’m tenting my underwear nicely. Her face flames pink, and her eyes quickly come back up to mine.
Giving her a tiny smirk, I say, “So… I need you to come probably twice a week to do general housecleaning… probably my laundry since I suck at both.”
“You aren’t going to get dressed?” she blurts out.
Pinning her with a direct stare, I curve my lips up and say, “No, Savannah, I’m not. Got a problem with it?”
“It’s slightly awkward having you standing in front of me half naked for a job interview,” she says, and I’ll have to give her some credit for having a sass mouth. Oh, the things I’d love to do with a girl that smarts off to me.
“You’re lucky I had my boxers on when you woke me up. Half the time I walk around naked,” I tell her with a serious look. I don’t, but I sort of like the blush she’s wearing and I wonder if I can get it to go a shade brighter. “Think of it this way, the less clothing I wear, the less laundry you have to do.”
I watch as Savannah clutches her purse a bit tighter to her body, and indecision filters into her gaze. I wait her out, certain that I’ve scared her off for good, which is no skin off my back.
“I really need this job,” she admits, and then her gaze falters to the floor. “But I’d be wasting your time if I stayed to discuss the details. I just can’t work here if you’re going to walk around naked all day. Thank you, Mr. Cooke, for your time, and I’m really sorry I woke you up.”
She never looks back at me but spins on her heel and heads for the front door. I watch her for just a millisecond, and then I push off from the counter to go after her. “Wait a minute,” I call out.
She stops and turns to look at me over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised.