Tempted By the Heiress (Hiding Out with the Billionaires #2)

Chapter 4 Sam

Sam

“Yo, Boss Lady!”

I hadn’t even put my pickup truck in park before my team lead, Barney, was at my side bellowing through my window. I turned off the truck and got out of the car before I responded.

“What’s up, Barney?”

“Not sure if you saw it, but we’re gonna have some help today.”

I could tell by the look on his face this was not good news. We were already behind schedule on the renovation of this giant Victorian mansion, we didn’t need any more delays.

“The company agreed to take on some community service volunteers and we’re getting’ one.”

I frowned. “Community service?”

“Yeah it’s like people who got arrested for something and instead of going to jail they gotta do good shit in the community like workin’ with puppies or teaching kids to read.”

I looked around to see if there were cameras on me. Maybe I was being punked?

“Are you saying that management is sending us criminals to do the restoration work on this project?”

“Yep.”

“Does the union know about this?” I asked as I grabbed my tool belt and snapped it around my waist.

“Yeah, they think it’s a good idea. I already talked to the steward.”

“Damn it. This has disaster written all over it,” I grumbled.

“Yep.”

“Well, there’s no arguing with management, so I guess we’ll just have to suck it up.”

Hopefully the guy knew his way around a hammer.

“Yep.”

Barney was a man of few words.

“All right, let’s get to work then.”

I turned as I heard the sound of gravel spraying behind me on the private road. A cherry red sports car skidded to a stop beside the assortment of pick-ups and work trucks in the makeshift parking lot we’d created. It was a Porsche.

No one had purchased this place yet so whoever this was, they must be lost. I headed towards the car.

“Did you take a wrong turn?” I called.

A woman stepped out of the car and my breath stuttered in my chest. She was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life.

Long blonde hair hung in waves past her shoulders, every strand perfectly styled.

Her skin was like porcelain, not a single flaw.

Wide brown eyes were framed with what had to be lash extensions, because no one had eyelashes like that in real life.

“Hi, I’m Olivia Laurent.”

She said her last name in what I was sure what a perfect French accent.

I couldn’t resist checking out the rest of her.

She was wearing a white button down shirt which strained a bit across her generous breasts, tucked into a belt in the front and hanging loose in the back, and dark washed designer-looking jeans that hugged her slim hips and legs, and highlighting one of those thigh gaps that skinny woman were always so proud of.

Normally I liked women with a little more meat on their bones, but there was something about her that made my body perk up…

Then I looked down at her shoes. What the hell? I couldn’t even describe them. It was like a pair of Chucks had a one night stand with a pair of stilettos, producing a high-heeled pink monstrosity that absolutely was not appropriate to wear at my construction site.

Seeing me staring at her feet she stuck her leg out to give me a better look.

“Do you like my sneaker heels?” she asked, her voice soft and cultured. “They were recommended to me by my friend Reese Witherspoon.”

I wasn’t sure who that was, but clearly I was supposed to be impressed. She took a step towards me, and I held up a hand to stop her.

“Those are not safe for a construction site.”

She gave me a pouting look that I was sure worked on a lot of people. I wasn’t a lot of people.

“But I wore these special for today.”

“I think there’s some mistake,” I said slowly, like maybe she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. “I’m not sure where you’re going, but no one lives here. We’re doing a renovation of this building.”

“I know,” she replied. “I’m here to help.”

“Help?” I asked incredulously, my eyes shooting back down to those ridiculous shoes.

“I’m Olivia Laurent,” she repeated. “My parole officer sent me here.”

That got my attention. This woman looked like she’d just flown up from summering in the Riviera. Everything about her screamed money, from her perfectly shaped brows to her expensive clothes to her shiny new Porsche. I must have heard her wrong.

“Parole officer?”

She gave me a look that was somewhere between impatient and imperious, and for some reason it made me feel hot.

“Can you direct me to the man in charge please? He’ll know what’s going on.”

“I am the man in charge,” I said firmly. “My name’s Sam Ralston, I’m the foreman on this job.”

She looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time, her eyes lingering first on my toolbelt and then on my breasts before returning to my face. She stuck out her hand and gave me a bright smile that I knew was fake despite the fact it was obviously practiced.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sam Ralston. So great to see a woman in charge.”

“Yeah, we’re everywhere now,” I said drily.

“You should have received an email about me. I’m your new helper for the next five weeks.”

Email? What email? Damn it, I really should check my email more often. I preferred working with tools, not computers.

I took her hand out of habit more than anything, then I inhaled sharply as our skin touched.

Little zings of electricity ran up my arm from where our palms touched.

I’d never had this reaction to anyone before, and I had a strong suspicion that Olivia felt it too because she was staring down at our hands with a tiny frown.

I had a bad feeling about this. People like Olivia Laurent didn’t normally show up in my life – and they definitely didn’t stay. I just needed to remember that.