Chapter 4
Donovan
I look down at Jessica, wondering not for the first time what the hell I’m doing.
I went to bed thinking about her and woke up with my dick hard in my hand and her still on my mind.
Her work is amazing, obviously, but it’s more than that.
I’m not sure if it’s because she’s the first woman I’ve ever met who seems mostly unaffected by me, or one who doesn’t seem interested in telling me yes just to blow smoke up my ass.
When we met yesterday, she wasn’t scrambling to please me, wasn’t flirting, wasn’t unprofessional in any way.
It was refreshing, admirable, and a turn-on.
But I do want her working for me. Her vision aligns with my own.
After thinking about her all night, I got home from the theater and sat in my home office, reviewing her work for the second time.
I poured over her suggestions and the few things that the finance team had already implemented and knew I needed to do anything I could to keep her.
I spent the next hour of my night looking through her file, researching her last employment, and saw her face staring at me from a lawn sprinkler website. Jessica Johnson from Johnson Sprinklers, a family business in Sleepy Hollow.
I put two and two together, grabbed a coffee, and headed here in my town car this morning with plans to offer her a job she can’t refuse.
But that was before I saw her, on the floor before me, looking more real and stunning than any other woman I’ve met.
My eyes canvass her. She’s wearing denim overalls, and at first glance, they seem uninteresting, but I notice the stitching and know they are last season Prada.
The peach top she's wearing has green thread across the wrists and neckline, telling me it’s Gucci.
She looks like the girl next door, yet her fashion selection shows quality. Effortlessly chic.
She clears her throat, and my eyes flick back to meet hers. I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.
Me being here is borderline stalking, something I never do.
I never chase people to work for me. I never spend my Saturday mornings traipsing outside the city, following a girl who, before yesterday, I didn’t even know existed.
My weekends are usually full of either work, hitting the gym, or I’m away traveling.
But as I watch her slowly rise from the floor, her head still barely coming to my shoulders, I feel warmer here than I ever have spending the summer in the Caribbean.
“I’ve been—”
“As I said yesterday, six figures, full healthcare and benefits. I will double anything else you’re offered and I want you to start on Monday,” I cut her off, not wanting any more excuses. There’s something about this woman that has immediately captivated me.
“As I was going to say, I—”
“You’ll have your own assistant and team if needed. Full access to all departments.”
“I’m trying to—”
“I’ll need you to visit our other facilities with me, in both Asia and Europe. I’ll cover all travel expenses. Your own corner office—”
“Donovan!” Her voice is sharp, and I stop immediately. She looks just as startled as her cheeks heat at her outburst. I’ve never been a bumbling fool. That seems to be a characteristic I’ve acquired around this woman. I pause, watching her—which is becoming increasingly easy to do.
“What I’m trying to tell you is, I’ve thought about your offer, and I’d like to accept.
” She pushes her glasses up her nose, and I itch to pull them away so I can see all of her more clearly.
Hell, I want to see her. Not the analyst. Not the strategist. Just the woman who somehow made denim overalls and scuffed boots look like a damn power suit.
My fingers twitch at my sides, and I shove them in my coat pockets before they embarrass me.
“You accept?” I want to ensure I heard her right as I try to tame the smile that’s growing on my face.
“Yes. I accept your offer.”
“Everything alright over here, kiddo?” I look up, seeing an older gentleman walking toward us, eyeing me suspiciously. I remember his face from the website, the owner and more than likely Jay Jay’s father.
“Donovan York.” I extend my hand to him, and he looks at it, then looks back at me, and even though I put him in his sixties, I can tell this guy has a lot of fight left in him.
“Bob Johnson.” He grips my hand firmly, mistrusting. Can’t say I’ve experienced that much in my life.
“How many more men are going to be coming in here looking for you today?” He isn’t quiet with his remark to her, and the fact that I’m not her only visitor has my shoulders tightening.
“Uncle Bobby, this is my boss,” Jessica tells him, and his grip on my hand immediately lightens, making me smirk. My eyes flick around the store, wondering if her father is here somewhere, not missing the reference that he’s her uncle. Although I didn’t see another man on the website.
“Boss?” Her uncle Bobby looks at me and then back at her, eyebrows raised in question.
“I came to negotiate. To see if Jessica would take my job offer. Seems we have a deal?” I look at her for confirmation, and she nods, which has her uncle smiling.
“Well, nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to chat.” Giving me a nod, he walks off, but I notice he doesn’t go far. Protective of his niece. I like that.
“Family business?” It clearly is, but as I look around, there’s a hell of a lot of stock here for such a small storefront, especially considering that it’s almost snowing. Who in the world would be putting a sprinkler system in this time of year?
“It is,” she says simply.
“Been in business long?” I ask, even though I really should be leaving. I just can’t seem to get myself to step away.
“Uncle Bobby started it a few years ago.”
“Lots of stock here…” I frown, still wondering if they sell any of it.
“It all gets shipped out this week.”
“Shipped out?” My gaze snaps back to hers, confused.
“I spent the last few months working on a profitable strategy for the business to get through the winter months. Florida, Arizona, and Hawaii all have higher need for sprinklers during this cold season, so we did an online campaign, saturated the market.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
I eye the boxes of stock around the place, the shelving that houses all the products.
I’m not an expert in lawn sprinklers, but I dare say they have a pretty good turnover for a small family business.
It’s all because of this woman staring up at me.
“Someone smart once told me lawn sprinklers was a two-point-eight-billion-dollar industry.”
She smiles, seeming almost shy that I remembered that fact. I’m such a fucking fool for her already.
“It’s nice to have a small piece of that pie.”
I huff a laugh, surprising myself. I can’t remember the last time I chuckled as part of a work conversation.
“We have a no moonlighting policy at York Enterprises.” I would never hold her to it.
As an only child with a late father who worked all the time and a late mother who didn’t care about anything other than her socialite standing, I don’t have the same connection to family as she does.
But I respect it. “However, loyalty is something I appreciate. As long as you don’t work for any of my competitors, what you do in your spare time is up to you. ”
She nods. “No competitors, got it. I’m sure you’ll keep me busy enough anyway.”
I suddenly want to ask her exactly what she does in her spare time, but I bite my tongue, my visit now well and truly running overtime.
Clearing my throat, I step back from her, creating a little distance.
But not before she lifts her chin, tiny and defiant, and meets my gaze full-on.
For a second, the air between us tightens.
Something unspoken, unsorted, stretches taut between us.
And then it’s gone. Just a moment, but I’ll be dragging it behind me all the way back to Manhattan.
“I’ll have the formal contract emailed to you this afternoon. Monday. My office. Eight a.m.”
“I’ll see you then,” she says softly, a glimmer in her eye that makes it entirely too difficult to take another step toward the door.
I give her a nod while my nostrils flare, dragging in oxygen, and I force myself to walk out.
I’m looking forward to Monday morning for the first time in a long time.