Chapter 3 #2
Her hands fisted at her sides, Trixie said with determination, “Mr. Russo, as I am sure legitimate employment is new to you, let me explain how sexual harassment in the workplace works. There is no fraternization between employees, nor is any disrespect for age, gender, sex, or ethnicity allowed. You will respect me as your boss and employer, and you will never put your hands on me again without explicit permission.”
She expected him to be angry, but he was amused. Was she wearing a frickin’ clown nose tonight?
He leaned in, but thankfully, kept his hands to himself. “How about we make a deal?”
“A deal?” What the hell did that mean?
He nodded once. “We can both agree that I’ve only been to Romero’s once, and I was in your showroom for maybe thirty minutes.
Mind you, about fifteen of those were distracted by your sexy, motor oil aroma, so let’s call it fifteen minutes to case the place.
” Trixie stiffened. Case? What the hell was he talking about?
“I’ll even refrain from asking Mr. Wynn to let me tag along tomorrow when he brings Geordi to see you. ”
Cayden reached up behind her head, removing the claw clip she’d been using to try to tame her hair for the evening.
“Here’s the deal: put my employment paperwork through and don’t sabotage your shop from passing the work program inspection.
At some point during the week, say by closing time Friday afternoon, I will get past your security, break into one of your cars, and place this clip on the dashboard facing a security camera.
If I can accomplish that, I get to kiss you with your explicit permission. ”
Her hair now loose in the summer breeze, she gulped. “Won’t that violate your probation?”
“I’ll make sure Mr. Jones and Mr. Wynn are aware of my plans, and I’d appreciate a letter from my employer stating that this is a security test. Now, you can do whatever it is your little heart desires to bump up security, but do not inform any of your staff what I am going to do or that you’ve hired me. ”
Curiosity got the better of her. Trixie took security of her babies very seriously.
She’d even had a security consultant come in after she’d inherited the shop to make sure everything was secure.
Did he truly believe that he could just walk into her showroom and break into one of the cars to place her claw clip inside?
“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask.
His shrug seemed too blasé for their topic of conversation. “To prove I can and that you need me. I don’t want your pity or your mistrust. I was hired to do a job, and this is how I do it. This is how I earn my way in the world.”
Was it odd that she respected that? She hadn’t hired him out of pity but out of guilt, courtesy of Peggy. He didn’t know that, thank God.
“You really think you can do it? Get past my security and break into one of my cars in broad daylight?”
“I know I can.” There was Mr. Cocky Biker. She’d been starting to miss him.
Her eyes narrowed. “And what do I get if you can’t?”
His confidence faltered. Just slightly, but she caught it. Was he doubting his abilities or her? “If I lose the bet, I’ll quit.”
“But you need this job?”
He nodded, “I do, and I appreciate it. But if I fail, then your security is good enough that you don’t need me.” He shrugged, drawing her eyes to those broad shoulders caked with muscle. Muscle she’d felt. “If I fail, it means you don’t need to waste your time hiring me.”
A kiss or his job? Was he serious?
He held out his hand to her. “Do we have a deal?”
“By Friday closing?” she asked again. He nodded once, his hand still waiting for her. Hesitantly, she reached forward. Their palms clasped, and she swore she felt a jolt of electricity course through her body. Man, her flickapedia fantasies just got a whole hell of a lot more material.
She forced her chin up and said, “Deal. Good night, Mr. Russo.”
Then she turned and walked down the steps. She let out a sigh of relief when she stepped off the Wynn property line where he couldn’t follow. She was to her car—a 2002 Pontiac Firebird she’d rescued from a junkyard—when she heard him call her name.
She paused, not daring to turn around. If she did, she might run back to him and give him permission to touch her everywhere.
How the hell was she going to survive his kiss if he won the bet?
While she didn’t want to screw him or his parole over, Trixie had every intention tonight of securing the showroom floor so that there was no way he could possibly break in to plant that claw clip.
Deciding to ignore him, she opened the door to her Firebird and got into the driver’s seat.
She slammed the door closed, grateful for the barrier between them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing there, right on the edge of the property line.
If he took a single step forward, he’d be breaking his parole.
Damn. She shook her head to clear it. She really needed to win this bet. No man should have this much power over her.
The following day dragged. Cayden helped Mrs. Wynn around the house, even so much as getting on the roof to clear out the gutters.
She made him lunch, and they ate together at the kitchen table.
Everyone else was at work, so it was just the two of them.
He kept feeling like Mrs. Wynn wanted to ask him something, but she was just chitchatting the day away with small talk.
She never brought up Trixie, though. Instead, she talked about her former job, the other residents of the house, and even her son, Josh.
As it neared three-thirty, Cayden couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that washed over him.
What was Trixie showing Geordi at the shop?
What was she wearing? Did she have her hair up like when he’d first met her, or was she wearing it down like she had yesterday?
Man, he was dying for the chance to run his fingers through those thick, black curls.
Despite the day’s distractions offered by Mrs. Wynn, Cayden’s mind never strayed far from Trixie Romero.
He wanted her. And not in a one-time, quick fuck way either.
He wanted her. By his side, in his bed, under him, on top of him, up against a wall, next to him…
He wanted her every way and any way he could get her.
This acknowledgement then fueled the doubt he’d been feeling all day. Not about the bet. He had a plan, and he knew exactly how he was going to win it. He would get his kiss.
But did she want his kiss? He was an ex-biker with a record.
He was on parole for another four months and four days.
Why would she want him? He wasn’t a catch.
He couldn’t even hold down a legitimate job without her help.
He knew he affected her, knew that she found him attractive, or maybe it was the fact that they both loved cars first and people second that sparked her interest.
But a relationship?
Cayden 2.0 wasn’t looking for a one-night stand.
He’d filled his teens and early twenties with those.
He was done with them. His cock might not understand that decision, but his head and his heart sure did.
Cayden didn’t want just anyone, a random someone.
He wanted the one. Maybe not marriage, maybe not kids, but he wanted commitment. A partner.
He’d been out of prison for almost two months.
There’d been ample opportunity to get laid, and he’d turned down some interesting offers.
The fact that the last time he’d had sex was the day before he’d been arrested was also on the forefront of his mind, and something his dick seemed to need to remind him of every single day.
He’d been convicted of Class 3 auto theft, which was a felony.
His sentence was three years, of which he’d served two and a half inside.
Prison had not been fun, but he’d managed to make it through unscathed and hadn’t been subjected to any sexual stereotypes.
His prison bitch had been his right hand.
His cellmate for most of his time inside had been a convicted murderer named Tony.
The two of them had gotten along just fine and, for the most part, people left them alone.
If they didn’t mess with them, they didn’t mess with Tony or Cayden.
But thirty months inside was still thirty months inside. He’d been lonely, isolated. He’d craved ice cream and to see the stars. He’d spent most of his time taking apart engines in his head or exercising. Tony had shown him some karate moves too.
Sex had been tempting since his release, but the idea of settling down and making something of himself, of making himself worthy of a decent woman was even more so.
Cayden didn’t want just sex or a quick lay.
He wanted happiness. He wanted to be able to bring a woman home to Gran and tell her that he was happy.
He’d never introduced a woman to Gran before, at least not since high school.
But that faceless woman in his prison dreams was no longer featureless.
She had raven hair with milk chocolate eyes, tanned skin, and killer legs.
She smelled of motor oil and had calluses on her hands with grease under her fingernails.
She had a spine of steel and a sassy mouth made for kissing.
He didn’t just want between Trixie’s legs. Sleeping with her would be amazing, and it would happen, but he would never be satisfied with just one time. He’d get her to trust him. He’d get her to understand that he was a man of his word.
Maybe one day Trixie would look at him like a man worthy of her. That was Cayden’s new dream. To be worthy of Trixie.
His perpetual blue balls might explode while achieving this goal, but he had every intention of achieving it all the same.