Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lu
It’s the end of my next shift when I see SSD again. He’s standing at the punch clock, blocking the exit, ready to swipe our cards because management thinks we’re incapable. And I’m in no better mood. Then again, when am I ever in a good mood here? It seems when I pull on my coveralls a bad attitude comes with them. But I’m also hangry. So bloody hangry. And Sharpie Jeff’s pudding, chocolate today, is burning a hole in my pocket.
“Hey,” he says, and I nod, coldly. Admittedly, my cheeks do warm though, but not because I’m embarrassed by how rude I was the last time I saw him. It’s more because up close he’s even more handsome, and last night, as I was cramped in my car’s too-small back seat attempting to sleep, I’d dreamt of him. Specifically, my skirt hiked up and the top of his gorgeous head between my thighs.
Lu doesn’t wear skirts, but Tallulah does, and she’s apparently got a thing for this guy as well. Down, girl.
My dream, and its unattainable nature, make me hangrier. Hangry and bitter, Lu’s two best friends.
Sexy Security Dude’s expression is bright—all straight white teeth and crooked boyish grin. And his eyes sparkle as if he knows a secret—gulp, hopefully not what I’d dreamt about last night.
“What?” I blurt accusingly as he stares expectantly.
His brow wrinkles and those sexy eyes drop to stare at the card in my hand. “Uh, good shift then, huh?”
I frown when his gaze finds mine again. Saucy fucker.
I shove out my swipe card for him, but he only glances at it. I’m standing at the front of a long-ass line of tired workers, and he’s just staring at me as if he knows I crumpled at his touch in my dream last night. I glare at him, then look pointedly at the line behind me before turning back.
Leaving this building is my favorite thing these days. My life is so incredibly crappy at the moment, leaving at the end of my shift can be counted as self-care. Except when it’s really cold.
“I’ll be happier when it’s over,” I finally say, in hopes it will move things forward. When he doesn’t budge, I nod my chin toward the punch clock. He looks over his shoulder at it, to the card in my hand and then back at me expectantly.
My eyes narrow and I’ve gone from frowning to scowling. “Let’s go! It’s eleven-oh-two, buddy.”
“That’s not going to work, I’m afraid.” He points at my card.
For fuck’s sake. I’m about to explode when I suddenly become aware of who’s actually holding things up.
Me.
Hell.
In my hand is a loyalty card—from a place I can no longer afford to shop—not my swipe card.
“For fu—” Before I can finish my oath, SSD clears his throat as if uncomfortable. “You could have said something,” I growl.
“Because my interactions with you are always so pleasant and I’m eager for more?”
I can’t help it; I bark out a laugh. Touché, SSD, touché.
Fumbling to find the right card, I mumble an apology behind me, but as I do my card drops to the floor. I curse—this time without interruption—and bend to grab it, only as I do I’m paying more attention to SSD’s well-fitting pants than my surroundings and bash my head on the metal-armed chair. It’s not a cute little knock either. I hit hard, hard enough to stumble and land on my ass.
“Jesus! Would you back the hell up?” I holler with the finesse of an over-caffeinated, overtired, long-haul trucker. Glaring, as if he’s to blame for my stumble, I rub my head. SSD plucks my card off the floor and pulls me up by the arm, his face plastered with concern.
“Ouch, that looked like it hurt.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I grind out. “This is bullshit, anyway,” I add, trying to distract him and everyone else from my injury. “There’s no reason we all can’t swipe our own cards.” I’m still rubbing the spot on my forehead when he shoots me an impatient glare and moves me forcefully to the chair.
“Sit. You hit your head pretty hard.” He moves me back until the chair forces my knees to buckle and I plop down. “Let me see.” He bends his knees to look, but I don’t move my hand. “I think you’re bleeding.”
“No,” I bark and swat him away with my free hand, pressing the other more firmly over my wound. “Leave me alone.” That last bit comes out rather pouty. I’m not proud, but I’m pretty sure I am bleeding and it’s the last straw of my crappy day, week, month… or eight.
“Don’t move.” He drops my card into his breast pocket and gives me a stern look. A look I’m sure he didn’t intend to give me flutters.
“We’re not in kindergarten,” I say. “We shouldn’t have to wait in line for recess. And this isn’t a damn time-out chair.” There’s more than a dollop of snark in my words, but not too much more. I’m edging toward defeat.
“Really? And here you are sounding all petulant like a five-year-old in need of one.” His back’s to me as he speaks because he’s taking cards and swiping the others through. “And it’s not my rule, anyway. Apparently, someone broke the punch machine last month… and we don’t know why or who because the camera was also broken.” He suddenly looks over at me with accusation in his eyes. “It’s fixed now too, by the way.”
Is he psychic? I swallow.
Breaking the camera was necessary so no one knew I was sneaking back into sleep in the infirmary after I lost my apartment. The punch clock? A bit of temper.
Rising, I slam my hands onto my hips, but then a wave of dizziness has me sitting back down, sheepishly. I’m not sure if it’s low blood sugar, my head injury, or maybe anxiousness at his sort of half-assed accusation, but either way, I won’t be storming out anytime soon. I need a change of tactic. “Come on, Mr. Security Guy, let me go. I have a nice boyfriend at home to play nurse.” It’s a lie of course. I don’t have a boyfriend at home. I don’t even have a home.
“I’m not letting you leave until I check you over properly. Can’t you just sit and behave for two minutes so I can let everyone else leave?”
Behave? That word is… er…there’s just something about it. I lick my lips.
“We can handle punching ourselves out,” someone says from the line. “She’s bleeding.”
I can’t tell who spoke so I glare at them all, but my mind is still chewing over the word behave and the bossy way this sexy, sexy man speaks to me.
“Just give me back my card, buddy,” I say, and rise to go for it in his pocket, but he stops me with a firm look and a gentle hand on my wrist. The look has me swallowing hard again, but the touch, phew, fire extinguisher, please.
“It’s not your card; it’s company property. Now sit… before I make you.” He mumbles that last thing so no one but me can hear.
Oh. My. God.
Please make me.
He’s big. Have I mentioned that? Sexy Security Dude is like well over six-feet tall. Wrestler big. And I don’t mean sumo. He has muscles, not as big as Python’s, but way more delicious.
And he’s super hot!
Who’s your daddy? hot.
And at the moment he’s being very who’s-your-daddy-like and dominant and it’s causing a flood of…
Mmhmm.
How hard did I hit my head? I brush off the weird wave of needy desire and continue my fight.
“Are you detaining me, officer?”
His brow wrinkles. “No.” His word is tentative, the vowel elongated. “Should I be?” His mouth curves slightly when he looks at me. “I do have cuffs if I need them.” He pats his hip where the silver metal bracelets hang on his duty belt.
I narrow my eyes at him, grunt, and sit. I’m tired, cranky, and now instead of hangry, I’m turned on. And maybe… I grab my stomach and close my eyes. Nauseated.
“Are you dizzy?”
My eyes pop open and everyone is gone. SSD’s face hangs over mine as he looks at my forehead.
“I was, but I don’t know now.” I’m cooperating, but my tone makes it obvious I don’t want to be.
“Come on.” He grabs my arm and helps me up. “The infirmary’s this way.”
“I know where it is,” I bark. “I’ve worked here longer than you.”
His mouth pulls up at the side as we walk. “That’s some serious attitude. You need a Snickers?”
“You got one? Or five?” I reply, dryly.
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth hitched up as if he’s both exasperated and amused, and unlocks the door to the infirmary. Opening it, he waves me through. “Sit on the bed.”
I eye him. “Trying to get me into bed, officer? Tsk, tsk, what would HR say?”
“Be a good girl and I’ll find you that Snickers,” he says, patting me on the head before grabbing a first aid kit off the shelf.
I’m speechless.
First the behave and the bossiness and now the be a good girl . Lord almighty, I might be called into HR if he keeps it up. What is it about a bossy, dominant man that makes us girls swoony?
Cleaning my wound, he inspects the damage and I stare into those chocolatey eyes. “It doesn’t need stitches,” he says and covers it with gauze. “Head lacerations always bleed a lot.” He tapes over the gauze.
“Now, were you dizzy on the walk here? Seeing double? Metallic taste in your mouth?”
“Fucking hell,” I say dryly. “I don’t have a goddamn concussion. It wasn’t a WWE match; no one slammed the chair over my head. It was a little bump.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my card, waving it. “Then I can let you go.”
I’m suddenly a little disappointed, but I let out a big sigh and say, “About fucking time. Now, where’s my Snickers bar?” I hold out my palm.
“Naughty girls that use foul language don’t get candy bars.”
I roll my eyes. “Just get me out of here.”
I head to my car, starting it with the fob, and ignore both the throbbing in my head and between my thighs. At least the memory of SSD’s flirting is keeping me warm. It’s getting cooler at night now.
There’s already frost on my windshield. I’m warming up my car, but I’m only driving down the road to a side street. I’m mostly warming it up so I have an excuse to hang back, so no one will see me drive down the road and settle into my car’s back seat for the night. But also because the little bit of heat will help me fall asleep before I’m too cold.
Chez Lu. Home sweet home.
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to sleep out here, but I should get at least a few more weeks. I miss the infirmary’s bed and not having to sleep balled up or in a semi-upright position. But thanks to the new security company and SSD, that’s no longer an option. These guys are way too thorough, searching the building after everyone leaves and then staying the night to do perimeter rounds.
As I walk to my car, I spot SSD leaving the building.
For fuck’s sake .
Despite the cold and my eagerness to get in my car, I stop, leaving a row of parking spots between me and my car. Pulling out the cell phone Python gave me with my near-frozen fingers, I put it to my ear. I don’t want SSD anywhere near my car where he might notice the pillow and blanket in the back seat.
As he gets close, I start talking, so I can ignore him. My fake words come out as white whispy puffs in the cold. But my conversation doesn’t stop him from coming to me and doing something that makes my jaw drop.
He grabs my free hand and puts a couple Snickers bars in it. They’re warm from his pocket. I stare at them in my threadbare gloves and then look up at him, but he’s already walking away.
I shove the phone into my pocket and hug the chocolate to my chest, beelining for my frost-covered car. I take my time getting in, setting the chocolate on the console, putting on my seatbelt, adjusting my position and finally starting the engine, giving SSD plenty of time to leave.
I sigh in relief as soon as he’s gone, and once the heat has cleared a small patch on the windshield, I drive to the side street next to the factory. As soon as I’m there, I turn off the ignition and jam my hand in my pocket to pull out the pudding from earlier. I eye it, and then the candy bars.
Pulling the pudding lid back, I lick it clean and then fold it neatly and shove it into the grocery bag hanging from my gearshift. With no other choice, I pull off my glove and use my finger to scoop the pudding into my mouth. Why is it that your hunger doubles the moment food touches your tongue?
I tuck the empty cup, so clean it could pass for new, into the garbage bag and put my glove back on. Climbing into the backseat, I put the candy bars into the seat pocket and curl up under the wool blanket that I bought from Goodwill for five bucks. I settle in and stare at the brown chocolate wrappers. Tomorrow morning, I tell myself, my mouth watering for one bite.
With a flat pillow, a mostly empty belly, and the wind picking up hard enough outside to rock my little car, you’d think I’d have to fight for sleep, but I don’t. It comes fast and hard and I only wake when my alarm goes off at five am.
Stiff from a night cramped in the cold backseat, I head to the Y, where my yearly membership is still good for another few months. Once it runs out, I’ll have to say goodbye to warm showers, but thankfully, that’s not today. Today I can spend an hour in the spray, scalding the chill from my bones.