Lady Luck
Page 58
His lips twitched and he asked, “What?”
“Dominic at Carnal Spa gave me the job!” I cried loudly.
At that news, his arms gave me a squeeze and he muttered, “Good news.”
“Uh… yeah!” I exclaimed and he set me on my feet but didn’t release me, just bent his neck deep so his face could remain close (ish) and his eyes could hold mine. “I just got the call. No way did I expect that he’d hire me because I’m not really local… yet. But he did! He said I have the flair and comportment, his words, that screamed ‘Carnal Spa’, also his words, and the minute he saw me he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. I start next Tuesday.”
“Happy for you, babe,” he said softly, his eyes warm, his lips tipped up at the ends.
“Me too,” I replied. “I mean, it’s ten to four with half an hour lunch break so it isn’t full-time and it’s about two cents over minimum wage since I’m a glorified receptionist but still. He said that he might hire another stylist and is definitely hiring someone to do facials and with the extra business they may need another hour or more. Isn’t that cool?”
He didn’t respond verbally but he did give me a full grin so I took that as agreement he thought it was cool.
“Let’s celebrate,” I declared, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what your favorite meal is and I’ll make it for dinner tonight. Get a bottle of sparkling wine or something.”
“Celebration doesn’t say you cookin’ my favorite meal and wine from a grocery store. Celebration says me callin’ The Rooster and gettin’ us a table.”
I tipped my head to the side and asked, “The Rooster?”
“Steak place up the mountain. Fuckin’ great food. Top-notch.”
I smiled because that did, indeed, say celebration.
“Excellent. Can I dress up?”
His arms gave me another squeeze, his face dipped closer and his voice was low and super rumbly when he said, “You can do whatever you want.”
“Awesome,” I whispered, his eyes smiled into mine and I liked that so much, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.
When I moved back, his eyes went over my shoulder and then started to come back to me but then they shot back over my shoulder and I felt the entirety of his frame freeze solid.
I didn’t like that or the expression on his face… no, I really didn’t like the expression on his face which almost looked like he was in pain so I pressed closer but looked over my shoulder to see a dark red SUV driving up to the office.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“The Keatons,” he rumbled low and that was when my body froze so I was stuck in position as the SUV parked and out of each side came a body.
Driver’s side was the man. Tall, straight, lean, dark blonde hair. Good-looking if you didn’t happen to be married to Ty Walker and Ty Walker didn’t happen to have friends the likes of Tate and Wood. Jeans, heavy, silver, Western-style belt buckle, cowboy boots, nice sports coat, chambray shirt.
Passenger side was the woman.
Misty.
Bitch-face Misty.
My eyes narrowed on her as I vaguely noticed Wood and a couple of other guys moving out of the bays and Stella coming out of the office and if I hadn’t vaguely noticed this I would have realized they did it because they knew cowboy guy and Misty, they knew they’d f**ked over Ty and they were positioning, should something happen, to take Ty’s back.
But I only had eyes for and a mind to bitch-face Misty.
She had lots of everything. Lots of leg. Lots of tits. Lots of ass. Lots of hair.
Ty’s type, definitely.
She was wearing much what I was wearing. Platform sandals (though not wedges). Short skirt. Three steps up from a normal t-shirt.
But mine was better.
I wasn’t wearing a skirt but cream-colored, tailored, low-rider, cuffed short-shorts. My tee was blousy, a soft orchid color and one side hung off my shoulder. I’d sleeked out my hair, my belt was awesome, my jewelry understated and even more awesome than the belt. And, at that moment, I was really f**king glad I spent extra time on my hair after cleaning the house and before going into town.
Her stuff was good quality. What could I say? I was a buyer. I could see it even from far away.
But her skirt was just on the wrong side of too short, her top just on the wrong side of too clingy and way the wrong side of too much cle**age, her hair was massive and her sandals leaped over the boundary of acceptable straight into the land of slut shoes.
Looking at her, she didn’t work with Ty, no way. And she also didn’t work with the fake straight-arrow (seeing as he was a dirty cop) Colorado cowboy guy with his precise haircut, jeans that weren’t faded even a little bit and, clearly visible even through his clothes, a body fat count that stated he spent almost as much time at the gym as Ty. And I felt I could say this coming from Texas. I knew cowboys and I knew their women.
She was just a skanky, white ‘ho trying to be something else.
This made me feel way better. Of course, I still hated her and wanted to rush across the tarmac and rip her hair out. But Ty said I was class and beauty and now I knew why. Because, in comparison to Misty Keaton, I f**king was, top-to-toe.
I turned back to Ty, pressed deep and when I did, I got his eyes.
“Dude, I am way more that than her,” I informed him, he blinked then I felt his body start shaking.
“Think I already told you that, mama,” he replied in his soft voice that was better than his normal soft voice considering it was soft and amused.
Must be said, I was liking this mama thing.
I held his eyes and asked quietly, “You okay?”
He gave me a shallow chin dip of affirmative before answering, “Pullin’ out my .38 and gunnin’ ‘em down in broad daylight with witnesses kinda f**ks with my grand plan o’ vengeance.”
I started giggling and slid my arms from around his neck to rest them on the wide wall of his chest.
“Yeah, being present at the incident, I probably wouldn’t be very convincing as an alibi.”
His lips tipped up. “Probably not.”
I allowed myself to enjoy his small grin. Then I sighed.
Then I asked, “This the first time you’ve seen them?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, honey,” I whispered.
“Gonna happen.”
“Right,” I muttered, my eyes sliding to his throat.
His arms gave me a squeeze and my eyes slid back.
“Got work to do. I’ll call The Rooster, text you with a time. You good with that?”
“Dominic at Carnal Spa gave me the job!” I cried loudly.
At that news, his arms gave me a squeeze and he muttered, “Good news.”
“Uh… yeah!” I exclaimed and he set me on my feet but didn’t release me, just bent his neck deep so his face could remain close (ish) and his eyes could hold mine. “I just got the call. No way did I expect that he’d hire me because I’m not really local… yet. But he did! He said I have the flair and comportment, his words, that screamed ‘Carnal Spa’, also his words, and the minute he saw me he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. I start next Tuesday.”
“Happy for you, babe,” he said softly, his eyes warm, his lips tipped up at the ends.
“Me too,” I replied. “I mean, it’s ten to four with half an hour lunch break so it isn’t full-time and it’s about two cents over minimum wage since I’m a glorified receptionist but still. He said that he might hire another stylist and is definitely hiring someone to do facials and with the extra business they may need another hour or more. Isn’t that cool?”
He didn’t respond verbally but he did give me a full grin so I took that as agreement he thought it was cool.
“Let’s celebrate,” I declared, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what your favorite meal is and I’ll make it for dinner tonight. Get a bottle of sparkling wine or something.”
“Celebration doesn’t say you cookin’ my favorite meal and wine from a grocery store. Celebration says me callin’ The Rooster and gettin’ us a table.”
I tipped my head to the side and asked, “The Rooster?”
“Steak place up the mountain. Fuckin’ great food. Top-notch.”
I smiled because that did, indeed, say celebration.
“Excellent. Can I dress up?”
His arms gave me another squeeze, his face dipped closer and his voice was low and super rumbly when he said, “You can do whatever you want.”
“Awesome,” I whispered, his eyes smiled into mine and I liked that so much, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.
When I moved back, his eyes went over my shoulder and then started to come back to me but then they shot back over my shoulder and I felt the entirety of his frame freeze solid.
I didn’t like that or the expression on his face… no, I really didn’t like the expression on his face which almost looked like he was in pain so I pressed closer but looked over my shoulder to see a dark red SUV driving up to the office.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“The Keatons,” he rumbled low and that was when my body froze so I was stuck in position as the SUV parked and out of each side came a body.
Driver’s side was the man. Tall, straight, lean, dark blonde hair. Good-looking if you didn’t happen to be married to Ty Walker and Ty Walker didn’t happen to have friends the likes of Tate and Wood. Jeans, heavy, silver, Western-style belt buckle, cowboy boots, nice sports coat, chambray shirt.
Passenger side was the woman.
Misty.
Bitch-face Misty.
My eyes narrowed on her as I vaguely noticed Wood and a couple of other guys moving out of the bays and Stella coming out of the office and if I hadn’t vaguely noticed this I would have realized they did it because they knew cowboy guy and Misty, they knew they’d f**ked over Ty and they were positioning, should something happen, to take Ty’s back.
But I only had eyes for and a mind to bitch-face Misty.
She had lots of everything. Lots of leg. Lots of tits. Lots of ass. Lots of hair.
Ty’s type, definitely.
She was wearing much what I was wearing. Platform sandals (though not wedges). Short skirt. Three steps up from a normal t-shirt.
But mine was better.
I wasn’t wearing a skirt but cream-colored, tailored, low-rider, cuffed short-shorts. My tee was blousy, a soft orchid color and one side hung off my shoulder. I’d sleeked out my hair, my belt was awesome, my jewelry understated and even more awesome than the belt. And, at that moment, I was really f**king glad I spent extra time on my hair after cleaning the house and before going into town.
Her stuff was good quality. What could I say? I was a buyer. I could see it even from far away.
But her skirt was just on the wrong side of too short, her top just on the wrong side of too clingy and way the wrong side of too much cle**age, her hair was massive and her sandals leaped over the boundary of acceptable straight into the land of slut shoes.
Looking at her, she didn’t work with Ty, no way. And she also didn’t work with the fake straight-arrow (seeing as he was a dirty cop) Colorado cowboy guy with his precise haircut, jeans that weren’t faded even a little bit and, clearly visible even through his clothes, a body fat count that stated he spent almost as much time at the gym as Ty. And I felt I could say this coming from Texas. I knew cowboys and I knew their women.
She was just a skanky, white ‘ho trying to be something else.
This made me feel way better. Of course, I still hated her and wanted to rush across the tarmac and rip her hair out. But Ty said I was class and beauty and now I knew why. Because, in comparison to Misty Keaton, I f**king was, top-to-toe.
I turned back to Ty, pressed deep and when I did, I got his eyes.
“Dude, I am way more that than her,” I informed him, he blinked then I felt his body start shaking.
“Think I already told you that, mama,” he replied in his soft voice that was better than his normal soft voice considering it was soft and amused.
Must be said, I was liking this mama thing.
I held his eyes and asked quietly, “You okay?”
He gave me a shallow chin dip of affirmative before answering, “Pullin’ out my .38 and gunnin’ ‘em down in broad daylight with witnesses kinda f**ks with my grand plan o’ vengeance.”
I started giggling and slid my arms from around his neck to rest them on the wide wall of his chest.
“Yeah, being present at the incident, I probably wouldn’t be very convincing as an alibi.”
His lips tipped up. “Probably not.”
I allowed myself to enjoy his small grin. Then I sighed.
Then I asked, “This the first time you’ve seen them?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, honey,” I whispered.
“Gonna happen.”
“Right,” I muttered, my eyes sliding to his throat.
His arms gave me a squeeze and my eyes slid back.
“Got work to do. I’ll call The Rooster, text you with a time. You good with that?”
