Chapter 2
Fletch
Fucking hell. He fired her.
First things first. I get in the grimy bastard’s face. “Back off. One more sound out of your mouth, you’ll be eating teeth.”
The boss puffs up more, clucking his tongue like a chicken. “Clark, you boys come with me, and Mari, I’ve got a document for you to sign.”
“She’s not signing shit,” I fire back.
His mouth snaps open, then closed. “Then she’s not getting her last paycheck.”
“Fine. I’ll cover it.”
Clark whistles and laughs as he and his guy follow the boss toward a set of swinging doors. He takes one last look at Mari, “You’ll be seeing more of me, girl.”
Goddamn. I’ve never wanted to break someone in half so bad in my life.
The other woman shuffles out from behind her register. “I’m sorry, Mari. Good luck.” Then she follows the men toward the back.
What the fuck is wrong with these people?
Mari stares into space, her teeth sunk in her bottom lip, her arms are limp by her sides as she stands behind the register.
“Cupcake, let’s get you out of here.”
“I got fired. Canned because he harassed me!” Her eyes mist at the corners as she shakes her head.
“Fuck them,” I grunt. “Let’s get you out of here. Now, get your things together.”
“What? What did you say?” she asks, shell-shocked.
“Purse, cell phone, coat. What do you have with you?”
“Oh. Uh. My purse is the only other thing I have. It’s under here.” She reaches below the counter and pulls out a small leather bag.
Looping an arm around her neck, I guide her toward the door. “You like coffee?”
“Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll see.” I lead her across the street to the Mug Life coffee shop. She’s still frowning when I open the door.
Heads swivel our way. Murmurs go through the staff.
“Wait here,” I say as I guide her to a table at the back.
She’s still there, staring into space with tears in her eyes when I return with two coffees.
“You look like a cream and sugar girl.”
She snorts. Dabs her eyes with her wrists and says, “Why do you say that?”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” she admits, taking the mug between both hands.
I sit down at the small table. The chairs are elementary-school size and she watches over the rim of her mug as I fold myself into the thing.
Silence falls between us. She drinks her coffee. The color is returning to her face bit by bit.
Part of the knot inside my chest loosens a few degrees.
After a while, Mari says, “I’ve been looking for another job for a while. There’s nothing around here that pays as well, and I can’t work nights.”
I take a breath. Here goes everything. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve got a job offer for you.”
She almost drops her mug. “What did you just say?”
“I have a job offer.”
She gasps, her expression turning offended as she sits back. “I might have thrown myself on you back there, but I am NOT a sex worker.”
It’s my turn to look shocked. “Never said you were.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, I should have been more explicit and not sexually explicit. The Mountain Men MC has a legitimate construction company. You’d be working for us as our office manager.”
Mari looks around, gripping the coffee mug tightly. After a long moment, she says, “I must have fallen into a rabbit hole. I’m so confused. Why are you offering me a job? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re competent. You know the trades.”
Her expression turns even more disbelieving. “And you know this from ten minutes of time with me?”
“It didn’t take ten minutes.”
My remark hangs between us.
“What’s your name?” she asks, her gaze sharpening as she looks at me.
“Fletch.”
“Mari,” she replies. “Fletch, there’s something you need to understand about me. My sister depends on me. She has type 1 diabetes. She’s in school. I pay the rent. Gas. Food. Everything. And I’m not even getting my last check.”
I take her mug out of her hands and set it on the table before she drops it. “I’m covering your last check. Don’t worry about that, and I want to show you the office.”
All eyes are on us now. Every other conversation in the place has stopped.
“I’m serious, Mari,” I tell her. “I’m offering you a job.”
“You can’t cover my last check.”
I lean closer, resting my forearms on the table. “Oh? Really. Why not?”
She searches my face. “Because… because you just can’t.”
“I’ll write you a check. Tell me how much.”
She covers her face with both hands. “I don’t know. I can’t think right now. This is crazy. That can’t be real. I can’t process all of this.”
“You don’t have to think. Just let me take care of you.”
“I don’t know…”
After a moment she laughs roughly. “Not like I have a choice. There’s no other work around here, and the only job I found is a night job at the hospital and I can’t be away from Cassie at night. Not after what happened…”
A flash of raw terror on her face makes me reach for her hand. “She’s okay now, though?”
Mari nods, clearing her throat. “She’s fine. During the day she’s with her friends at school. At night I need to be there.”
“Understood.”
We drink our coffee. Every couple of minutes her eyes wander to the street, to the hardware store directly across the way. The oil field truck is still parked outside, meaning Clark is still in there.
“We can cruise out there on my bike,” I say to keep her mind off that building and the men inside. They don’t deserve another fucking second of her time.
She snaps me back to the moment,when she frowns and asks, “Does this involve a scary room, black plastic on the floor and walls, gloves and a rusty knife?”
I frown. “No.”
“You’re not a serial killer?”
“Not unless you’re a box of nails. I’m a contractor.”
Her tense expression softens and my heart slams into my sternum. What the hell is going to happen to me when she smiles?
“That was a bad construction joke,” she says, looking into my eyes as she lifts her mug to her mouth.
“Do I look like the joking type?”
Mari glances down at the patches on my cut, and back at my face. “Not really.”
“Trust me, Mari. I won’t let you down.”
For a few seconds she’s quiet, then in a soft voice she says, “You did save me.”
“Let me take you for a ride. I think you’re gonna like what I show you.”
After a second, she shakes her head. “I could follow in my car.”
I let this idea sit for about five seconds, my cut creaking against the chair when I lean back. “You really feel like you should be driving right now?”
After a resigned sighing, she says. “Truthfully, no.”
The music plays in the background. I drink the black coffee, and try not to let my mind wander to the place it wants to go. My bed with her in it.
She finishes her coffee and I ask, “Feeling better?”
“Twenty-five percent. But I don’t even know your name.”
“Road name is Fletch. Real name is Fletcher Stone.”
She says my name in a husky voice.
Fuck. Why do I like this girl so much? “Let’s go. The gossip vine is catching fire right now.” I roll my eyes toward the people who have been eavesdropping.
With a groan Mari mutters, “You don’t even know. People are gonna think we’re a couple.”
I hold out a hand as I flash a grin. “I thought we were already past that point.”
“You could be an actor by the way,” she says, staring at my outstretched palm. “What you did was very convincing over there.”
Her cheeks are turning pink, and I’d bet a thousand dollars she’s thinking about me smacking that fine ass of hers.
“You think I was acting?” I chuckle. “Come on. I promise not to scare you.”