Chapter 5 Wesley
Wesley
I’m hauling bags of cement from the pallet, stacking them up by the mixer, when Frank comes storming out the office looking like he’s swallowed a wasp.
He’s not angry, in fact, he looks embarrassed.
Frank has been my foreman for over six years, and he’s the oldest bloke on site — somewhere in his late fifties.
He sparks up a cigarette, shaking his head, and all I can think is something’s gone tits up with the build, meaning more mess for me to clean up.
It’s been one of those days. When he finally reaches me, he takes a long drag, then drops the cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his filthy work boot.
“What?” I ask, already bracing myself for the usual nonsense.
“You’ve an interview in your office.” What?
Since when do I deal with interviews? He knows that’s his territory.
He’s the man I trust to delegate the day-to-day workload to the onsite lads.
So why the hell do I need to sit in on this one?
Then I remember Jake. Shit! I forgot to tell Frank he was coming.
“Jake’s here already?” Frank looks at me like I’ve lost the plot.
“Nah, this ain’t Jake…” He leans in slightly, dropping his voice like he’s about to reveal a big secret. “It’s a woman.” No clue why he’s whispering. Maybe it’s something to do with Jake. Either way, I trust Frank to handle it. It’s his job after all.
“You know I trust your decision.”
He just shakes his head again. “You can handle this one yourself.” He throws his hands up and turns away but pauses to shout over his shoulder.
“In future, Wes, don’t let the fucking labourers answer the work phone.
” And off he goes, stomping towards the lads, probably to give them a bollocking about touching things they shouldn’t.
I drop the cement bag and head towards the porta-cabin.
It’s shitted up. Pisses me off how dirty it gets, no one ever pays attention to the signs telling them to wear boot covers.
Yanking the door open, with more force than necessary, I stop dead in my tracks.
In the chair is a woman with long dark hair falling down the middle of her back.
I approach with caution, circling the desk not looking at her until I’m seated.
I freeze…
What the fuck is Shannon doing here? My throat dries. My heart rate picks up. The same feelings I had the first and second time I saw her hit me all over again, like I’ve been struck in the chest with a fucking sledgehammer.
Here we are face-to-face, like the first time. Only this time, she isn’t all smiles and rainbows, she’s scowling. Arms folded. Chest rising and falling, her tits pushed up under her arms. Why is she here? Why is she in my office? Then it hits me, Frank’s words, your interview is here.
No, no, no! Not a fucking chance. This can’t be happening. She can’t work here. For one, the job is already gone.
Shannon breaks the silence. “Are you bloody serious?” she snaps, shoving her chair back to stand.
I stay put, mainly because, for some ridiculous reason, I’m sporting a boner.
Just like the first day in the restaurant, sitting across from this beautiful woman, trying to hide myself under my desk.
The only way to make it go down is to be my usual arsehole self.
Not the version of me she met over a year ago.
“What do you want?” I say, pulling off my hard hat and running a hand through my hair. “I’m busy.” I’m aware I’m being a total prick.
She walks to my side. One thick, gorgeous thigh presses against the edge. I make a mental note to rub the corner of my desk when she’s gone. Yep, I’m a fucking weirdo.
“You’ve got strawberries on your wellies?” I say. “Don’t change the subject,” she spits out.
She throws one hand on her hip, clearly getting annoyed with me. “It doesn’t surprise me you’re the boss, and I wouldn’t work for you even if you were the last man on Earth.” Fair point. I wouldn't work for me either. Exactly why I pay my lads well.
“Then you know where the door is.” I rise to my feet, covering the evidence of how this girl twists me up like a pretzel. My eyes betray me, dragging down the length of her stunning body. Hips to die for, wrapped in a pair of ridiculously tiny shorts.
Tits I want to shove my face between. Her boots are covered in tiny strawberries. Of course they are. She’s too perfect for a building site. Too much of a distraction for the lads, but mostly for me.
Yet she’s still standing here. Not moving. Not leaving.
“Maybe next time you advertise a job listing, you should go back and check the Equality Act.” There’s venom in her voice, and I like it. She’s got it all wrong, but I don’t tell her the truth because I’m enjoying watching her lose her shit. It’s fucking sexy as hell.
Still, I’ve never discriminated against anyone who works for me, or anyone in general. Deciding to play along — partly out of curiosity — to see how Frank would deal with workplace diversity during an interview. It’s something I should have spoken to him about.
He’s old school, set in his ways, the type who’s used to dealing with blokes and probably thinks the building sites are no place for a woman.
I continue taking mental notes.
“What did Frank tell you about the job?” I need to know.
Might be time to take him off interview duty altogether.
In fact, the labourers, myself included, could all do with a refresher course.
Everyone who works on site has to complete a health and safety risk assessment and demonstrate using personal protective equipment.
We also have a daily work site checklist. Frank knows all of this.
“He said you wouldn’t employ me. I presume it’s because I’ve got these.
” She does it… she points to her tits. And yeah, I look because she’s just pointed them out, and not because she’s sexy as fuck.
But I quickly turn away and clear my throat.
I can see what’s happened. Frank panicked and came to find me.
Doesn’t help that I’ve been checking her out either, or having wicked thoughts.
Not professional behaviour when you’re dealing with equality.
But there’s history between us. A little messy, I admit, but still history.
“You being a woman has nothing to do with it. I’ll make sure Frank is brushed up on everything.
” I clear my throat. “But also, I won’t be employing you,” I tell her, and this gets her back up.
“Because I’m a woman?” She scoffs. “Just say it, Wesley.” It’s the first time she’s said my name since we met.
Christ, I want to hear her say it again.
Scrap that, I want to hear her scream it while my tongue is buried inside her pussy, and this isn’t the best time to have these kinds of thoughts when she already thinks I won’t employ her because she's a woman.
You fucking idiot, Wesley.
But the truth is, I can’t work with someone who turns me inside out just by standing near me. I’m attracted to Shannon.
“I’ll be upfront with you, I can’t work with someone who I’ve had personal interest in.
” She tilts her head, regarding me so I carry on.
“I hope you understand. You’re welcome to try but I think it’s in both our interests that you look elsewhere.
” I am happy with the way I handled the situation.
Even if it is half the truth. Shannon rolls her shoulders back, I’ve a feeling she’s about to hit me with her parting shot.
“I wouldn’t want to work for an arsehole like you anyway.” She stomps off towards the door. I won’t stop her. It’s better this way, for both of us.
“I’m not stopping you from leaving, sweetheart,” I say, arms folded, clicking my tongue against the inside of my cheek.
Then the door bursts open and in walks Frank, with Jake.
Fuck my life.
Before I can get a word out, Jake pipes up. “Thanks for the job, Wesley. Frank said I could start tomorrow.” Frank clocks Shannon, who’s stood behind the open door. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters, quickly pulling Jake back outside.
Shannon spins around, glaring at me. “You could’ve bloody told me you’d already offered the job to someone.” She shakes her head, but I just shrug my shoulders.
“You didn’t give me a chance,” I lie. I could have told her the truth the second I walked into the office, but I wanted to hear what was said between her and Frank.
Mostly? I wanted to be around her again. Listen to her talk. Watch her get all fired up while I sat there with my cock so fucking hard from how much she came alive with something she’s so passionate about.
“Next time you invite someone for an interview, maybe let them know.” It dawns on me, she’s wasted her journey. I reach into my jeans pocket, pulling out my wallet and flipping it open, digging out forty pounds.
“Here,” I say, holding out my hand. “Take this for petrol.”
Shannon scoffs. “I don’t want your bloody money. I don’t want anything from you.” She turns her back on me. I watch her leave, biting down on the corner of my lip, thinking about her arse in those tight as fuck shorts.
She slams the door behind her, making me flinch.
All I want is to go after her and kiss those angry lips until they’re swollen and soft.
Time is getting on and I'm about to call it a day.
“Parker?” Declan calls out to me as I’m explaining to my labourer, Andy, how much cement to mix.
He walks over, a huge shit eating grin on his face, holding a white envelope.
“This is for you,” he says, handing it over and waving me off.
“Call it a bonus, mate. You’ve earned it.
” His deep East End accent sounds stronger up north.
Before I can even shake his hand, he throws a casual wave over his shoulder.
“Cheers, Dec,” calling out to him, knowing the envelope will likely be stuffed with a bunch of twenties.