4. Audrina
4
AUDRINA
I take up Jas’s offer to show me how to work QuickBooks and deal with spreadsheets. I’m not a whiz on computers, but I know the basics. Of course, West is giving me undivided attention tomorrow on where he keeps everything on his computer. When Jas logged into his QuickBooks account, she muttered a couple of profanities and swore she was going to ‘ring his neck’ when she saw him.
“I’m sure I’m the wicked witch for letting him get so far behind,” she sighs. “I’ve been playing catch up, and even with Luna helping me here, it’s still a lot.”
“I’m sure it’s not that hard for me to get him back on track,” I tell her. “For some reason I don’t think paperwork is his strong suit.”
“Still, he should’ve said something.”
“I don’t think he likes to burden anyone.” I smile. “He’s the type of man who’s only ever relied on himself, which has to change. The minute I saw his desk, I knew he was in trouble.”
“So...” She bites on the end of her pen. “How are things going with you two?”
I feel the heat rising from my neck. “Um, fine. Why do you ask?”
“Are you two still dancing around the freaking obvious?” she sighs. “Honestly, you’re like a couple of teenagers who won’t tell one another you like each other; it’s kinda cute as much as it is annoying.”
“Well, I’ve been taking some time out for myself since my divorce.” Not a total lie, but a bit of an excuse.
But nothing gets by Jas. She narrows her eyes. “Wasn’t that over two years ago?”
“Yes, but we were married for twenty-five years. It feels... weird when you’re so used to things in your marriage.”
She stops her inquisition and takes her glasses off. “I know, that must be hard for you, but West is a flesh and blood man, and he’s hot for you.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like Lace; she never stops teasing me.”
“I take it he hasn’t made the moves?”
“Only to offer me a promotion.”
“I bet he’d like to offer you a different kind of promotion.” She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs.
“Very funny. It would be awkward.”
“A-wk-wart-dtz...” Ade runs in with his toy truck, running it over Jas’s desk and almost spilling her coffee.
“Careful bud.” I ruffle his hair. “We don’t want coffee spilled all over Aunty Jasmyne’s papers.”
He ignores me, zooming his truck over her filing cabinet, making zoom-zoom noises.
“He’s a handful,” Jas whispers. “Takes after his dad.”
“Dad! Dad!” Ade yells. He turns to me. “Aunty A?”
Gosh, he’s got such a sweet little face. “Yes, honey?”
“Hungwy.”
I smile. “Okay, we’ll go and see if Manny will make you a sandwich, but we have to ask very nicely, alright?” I hold out my hand, and he drops his truck to the ground with a clatter and slides his little palm into mine.
“Okay!”
I ruffle his hair. “Pick up your truck like a good boy, and we’ll let Aunty Jasmyne get back to work.”
He does as I ask, and I smile over to Jas. “I want updates tomorrow on how it went in West’s office.” She jiggles those eyebrows again, and I poke my tongue at her.
Ade is pulling me out the door toward the kitchen, where we hear Manny singing. He must be in a good mood, although I can’t say I’ve seen the club chef in a bad mood. He always has a smile on his face.
“Uncle Manny!” Ade shouts, dropping his truck again. I bend to pick it up as he runs across the kitchen and into Manny’s open arms.
“Hey, little bud!” He lifts him up and spins him in the air as Ade laughs hysterically.
“Uncle Manny, I’m hungwy!”
"No, you’re not, you’re Ade!”
He laughs as Manny sits his little butt down on the counter. “Hey, Audrina, you on babysitting duties?”
“Yep.” I smile. “And this little guy just informed me he’s hungry; what do we say, Ade?”
“Pwease, Uncle Manny? Sandwich?”
He kisses Ade on top of his head. “Anything for you, little sous chef. I’ve got turkey, ham, chicken...”
“Baloney!”
Manny quirks a brow. “baloney?”
Ade nods enthusiastically.
“You really want to eat a baloney sandwich over turkey and cranberry...”
“Ew! Yuck!”
Manny starts to tickle him and he laughs harder. “I’ll give you yuck!”
He kicks his little legs, trying to get away, and in the end, Manny gives in making his sandwich, not before covering it in ketchup.
“I’ll bet he’s been a handful,” Manny says out the side of his mouth.
“Oh, you have no idea. No wonder Crystal says he sleeps like a baby.”
“Not a baby!” Ade tries to slide off the counter, Manny helping him as he dances around, waving his sandwich in the air, then takes a dramatic bite.
“Now remember, you’re not to come around my side of the kitchen,” Manny warns. “There’s a hot oven and really hot pans, okay, bud?”
“Ok! Here, Aunty A, have a bite!” Ade runs toward me with half his sandwich in his hand, but he loses his footing and trips into me, splattering his half-eaten sandwich onto my white blouse.
I look down at it and groan. “Oh, dear.”
“Oops.” He looks sorrowful, as if he’s about to cry. I peel the sandwich off my blouse, the baloney still stuck there, and pass it back to him. He takes a bite out of the bread, and I shake my head. I try to forget this is vintage Valentino.
“Ade, no running in the kitchen. Uncle Manny just told you to be careful; you could’ve hurt yourself,” I say.
“Sowwy, Aunty A.” He wipes his ketchup moustache, and I reach for the paper towels and wipe his face. I can’t stand kids with dirty hands and faces. The baloney drops off my blouse and onto the floor. He bends to pick it up, but I beat him to it, knowing he’ll shove it straight into his mouth, and throw it in the trash instead.
“How about you eat that nicely with Manny here while I go and change? No running around in here, okay?”
He bobs his head up and down. “Okay.”
Manny hands me a dish towel and soap, and I head out to the bathroom to try and clean up. Knowing there’s only Jas in the clubhouse at the moment, I start to undo the buttons, wiping furiously and vowing to never wear expensive clothes around Ade ever again. It’s going to need soaking, and I don’t have a replacement shirt.
I’ll ask Jas; she might have a spare top here somewhere that I can borrow, we’re about the same size.
I push the door to the short hallway open and shuck my blouse off my shoulders, trying not to cry because this was one of my favorite pieces. More fool me for wearing it while babysitting. I should’ve known better. As I’m about to grab my phone and google what gets ketchup out of vintage fabric, I look up and screech.
Fumbling, I drop my blouse and the dishrag, bumping into West’s solid body that's taking up most of the room in the narrow corridor. “Holy cow!” What in the heck is he doing here?
“Audrina.” His voice is full of surprise, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, they dip to my chest for a brief moment, and I stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Neither of us say anything for a few awkward seconds. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you...”
“I, uh, I umm...” I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover my breasts. By the time I do that, his eyes have lifted and a strange look crosses his face. “What are you doing here?”
He cocks a brow. “A better question might be, why are you walking around without your blouse on?” He dips to pick it, and the dishrag, off the floor and hands them to me.
I snatch my blouse quickly and cover myself, glad I wore the new, padded push-up bra I just bought. Not that I planned on having West, or anyone for that matter, seeing it or me half-naked.
“Uh, Ade…” I wave my hand behind him. “He just splattered his baloney sandwich all over me and I was just coming to try and get the stain out. I didn’t think anyone was here.” My cheeks flush but I notice he’s in no hurry to get out of my way.
“That explains it then.” His deep blue eyes stare at me, and I get the feeling he’s fighting to keep them focused on my face. I have semi-decent, C-cup natural breasts, and the only enhancement is the push-up bra. My back may straighten just a little in an attempt to make them as perky as possible, if I’m being honest.
“I’m sorry.”
He holds up both hands as if he’s surrendering. “Don’t ever have to apologize.”
I cock a brow. “For running into you, or without half my clothes on?”
He grins. “Both.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I try and imagine what it would be like to feel West’s beard between my legs... would it be scratchy, or soft? He seems to take care of it, like the rest of his perfect face and body... And I’ve no clue why I would picture that when he’s staring at me intently, amusement dancing in his gaze.
“I should go and try to get this out.” But I don’t move.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you smiling?” I playfully whack him on the arm as he laughs harder. “This isn’t funny.”
“It is a little bit funny.”
“Not when you’re the one half undressed.”
“It’s no inconvenience to me.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna get that out with just soap,” he points out.
“Oh, you’re an expert on stains now?” I try to hide my embarrassment.
“I was in the military for a time, fixin’ tank engines. Rinse it with vinegar and cold water.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I try not to meet his gaze, but it’s a little hard when he’s taking up all the room in the tiny hallway and I can’t get past.
“Anytime.”
“I’ll see you later.”
His lips twitch as he gives me a chin lift.
As if this wasn’t any more awkward, he turns on his side so his back is against the wall and we can pass. I clutch my blouse to my chest, heat flooding my cheeks once more as I shuffle past him and disappear into the ladies room. Fine, it has a sign saying ‘Chicks’ on the front, but whatever. Once I’m safely inside, I sink back onto the door and sigh.
“I’m such a freaking idiot!” I scold myself. “Undressing in a goddamn hallway!” I discard my blouse, tossing it onto the sink, and then my eyes drop to my chest in the mirror. Well, at least he got a good view. My breasts look amazing in this bra; there’s no denying it. “At least my rack looks good, right, Boss ?” I jiggle my breasts and watch them bounce. Yep, no doubt about it, they look perky thanks to the lifting effects of my most recent purchase. A second later I shake my head. What in the heck am I doing? I question my wayward thoughts because no man gets me unglued like West does, but that’s no reason to lose all sense and sensibility.
Still, I smile to myself, but then I hear the sound of heavy boots passing by the door and back through the hallway. I press a hand to my mouth, my eyes wide. Was he still there?
Oh, my God. Did he just hear me? I assumed he’d left... I turn and bang my forehead against the wall. Not only do I have to put this dirty blouse back on, but I’ve also got to face West again, knowing he’s seen my breasts. Okay, they weren’t bare; this isn’t a sheer bra or anything, but still. Talk about awkward. Then again, when I remember the way his eyes dipped low, not even hiding the fact he was checking out ‘my rack’ as I so eloquently put it, my heart pounds in my chest. His eyes looked hungry when they met mine again, his lips twitching like he had something more to say, and his breathing changed. It was more ragged than before. And why do you notice every single detail about him? I do, and it’s a problem.
I can’t even think about the deep, musky scent of the cologne he was wearing. It was subtle, but the lingering essence can’t be erased from my memory bank.
This man is driving me wild. Now I have to work in his office... also my doing, and I’ve no one to blame but myself.
I arrive at the cafe early, ready to tackle my day. Jas gave me some basic tips on using the software system, but she or Luna will come over later after I’ve started keying things in to make sure I’ve got it right. It’s nice of them to take time out of their busy schedules to help, but the women of the club really are like sisters.
I knock tentatively on West’s office, but nobody’s inside. I smile when I see the desk has been tidied. There’s still a mountain of paperwork and an overflowing shoe box, but it’s neater than it was yesterday. It’s adorable that he tried to clean up.
I set my thermal mug on the desk and drop my bag down; as I do, the side door of the office opens. It leads up to the apartment upstairs, where he lives. I smile, but it quickly drops when I see Cherice, one of the new sweet butt’s at the club, coming out. She greets me with a chirpy, “Hey!”
And I plaster a smile on my face in return. “Hello.”
“Oh, Cherice?” I hear Hustler’s voice as he bounds down the stairs. “If it’s okay, I need you to—” He stops when he sees me, his mouth open as he looks from me to Cherice.
Right. So he’s screwing some twenty-something year old sweet butt all of a sudden? I mean, if it looks bad, it probably is bad. I take a deep breath, trying not to let the hurt show on my face. What an idiot. Here I was making an extra effort with my appearance this morning, even curling my hair, which I rarely do, and taking my time with my makeup so I looked pretty, and here he is screwing some chick half his age?
Bile rises in my throat.
Cherice turns, oblivious to the stare-off me and West are having. I also notice West has damp hair... and if I’m not mistaken... so does she.
I place a hand over my heart but can’t look away.
What if she kisses him in front of me?
Would I just let that slide? I almost laugh hysterically. I’ve never been jealous over another woman, nor would I start a fight, but this possessive anger boils up inside me, and I turn around so I don’t have to witness their impending public display of affection and my meltdown.
I thought West was different?
“Don’t mind me.” I wave a hand in their direction. “I’m just here to work.”
“You were saying?” Cherice says.
“Uh, never mind.”
“Suit yourself. Oh, uh, my cash?”
What the hell?
Oh.My.God. He’s paying her?
My hands turn into fists on the counter, and I don’t know how I refrain from standing up and walking out. Mainly because I’m a nosy bitch and I want to hear what happens next. My own heart can pick itself up off the floor all by itself later. I’m no stranger to it.
“Shit, sorry.” He’s apologizing?
I hear him go to the safe and then punch the numbers in. Wow. He needs to get money out of the safe in order to pay this woman? How much was she? My vision almost blurs with jealousy. All the while, I startup the computer and try not to grab the stapler to throw it at his head.
He hands it over, and she says, “Thanks, Hustler. You’re actually pretty tidy; most men aren’t. Let me know when you need fixin’ up again.”
Fixin’ up? Is that young-person code for something? My mind reels.
Is she referring to his nether region? The man probably manscapes; he’s that freaking perfect. Or was until she appeared.
“Excuse me while I go throw up,” I mutter.
“Audrina, are you alright?” Hustler’s voice sounds concerned behind me.
“Fine.” I make a big show of tipping all the receipts out of the shoe box and onto the desk, shaking it to make sure I got them all.
I have no right to act like this, but then again, screw him. He flirted and acted like he was into me, and because I’ve spent this past year trying to heal from my divorce and not sliding immediately into his bed, he bangs some floozy who doesn’t even remember to be paid before she leaves? I may actually vomit all over his stupid desk.
I need coffee. Even though I already have one in my thermal mug, I need an excuse to go to the ladies room and try and compose myself. Screw it, I need to cry.
I stand, and just as I do, Cherice waves goodbye. I’m sure she’s got plenty to be smiling about, but somehow the appeal of the man I thought was different doesn’t seem so shiny anymore.
I let Cherice in front of me, plastering a fake smile on my face as she bounces off in shorter than micro shorts. I mean, do you really have to have your butt cheeks hanging out like that? Do they not make them with enough material to cover your ass these days?
Even if I did wear shorts like that when I was her age, I shove that thought out of my brain.
Behind me, West doesn’t move. I don’t say anything because, frankly, I don’t have to tell him what I’m doing. I haven’t even clocked in yet, so he doesn’t own my time. Nor will he own anything else.
“Audrina?” West’s voice is low, attractively low, and I hate the way the words roll over me, making my heart skip a beat. It’s amazing how looks can be deceiving.
I don’t want to turn around and face him, but I have to be an adult about this after all. He doesn’t owe me any explanations. “Yes?”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.”
Oh, I’ve mastered the look of nonchalance over the years of living with a man who gave more interest to the NasDaq than he did me. I know how to pretend that everything is okay. I’ve perfected the art of a resting bitch face, too.
“What you do in your own personal time is no business of mine.” I don’t even sound like myself. I sound mechanical.
He moves toward me, but I move back. I try not to let my eyes glaze over, but they betray me. Do not cry. Do not cry.
“She wasn’t collectin’ money for anything other than cleanin’ my apartment.”
I deserve an Oscar for keeping my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. “Uh, huh. Great.”
“I’m tellin’ the truth.”
Is he? Or am I dumb? I can’t work it out.
“You’re mad with me,” he goes on. It’s not a question.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because it may have looked like it was somethin’ else.”
I shift my eyes to his half-buttoned-up shirt and raise my eyebrows. “Like I said, it’s no business of mine who or what you do, Hustler.”
I’ve never used his biker name, not once. I don’t particularly like nicknames, and I gave my son a perfectly lovely name the day he was born, so I refuse to call him Nevada.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why?” I frown. “Isn’t that your name?”
“I think I’d prefer meathead, jerk, or asshole,” he mutters.
I hate the way his floppy hair falls in front of his face. The way his blue eyes stare at me with concern. It’s unspoken, but I see it there.
The way he smells like a freaking dream — that sexy, masculine scent of cedarwood and musk — it should be illegal.
“I’m just going to get a coffee,” I say quickly. I need to get out of this vicinity before it gets the better of me. Lord knows how I’m going to get through this morning. I would normally ask him if he’d like a coffee, too, but today I’m not feeling very hospitable.
I practically run out of the office and out to the bathrooms before he can say anything else.
I mean, does he think I was born yesterday? They both had wet hair! How does he explain that? And he was half undressed.
I put a hand on my heart, trying to slow it from beating right out of my chest.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of today, but it may just very well end up with me kicking my boss to the curb.