Page 6 of The Maid

Mario had fucked up a few times lately and was getting on his last nerve. He hated to fire the man, but this had been the last straw. What if George hadn't been there tonight? His temper flared but punching someone wasn't an option, and neither was getting obliterated, fucked, and numb. Instead, he was pissed off. He pulled up his accounts and there was plenty of money. More than he'd need in a lifetime. So, what the hell was going on?

He sent a quick email to Mario, asking that he called him as soon as he woke up, then turned on the television and sat back to polish off a bottle of Johnny Walker while watching ESPN. Seemed like his night of obliteration and numbness would, in fact, come true.

Gun wasn't sure if the noise he was hearing was the pounding headache or his phone vibrating from somewhere on the floor. Still in his black slacks from the previous night, he was on his stomach, his face smashed into the leather sofa. One leg and one arm halfway off and the bottle of whiskey still in his hand. The noise began again, and he awkwardly and painfully rolled off the couch. He was on his hands and knees looking for his phone when he heard the front door open and shut. There were only two people who had a key to his house——his mother and his assistant—— and he knew his mother was still upset at him for walking out of dinner the previous night. So that only left…

"I've been calling you."

"Fuck off, Jefferson!" Gun grunted as he rifled around the floor looking for his phone.

"Using my full name. You must be really pissed-drunk."

On his hands and knees, eyes barely open, he continued to feel around. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry. The last thing he wanted to do was hear a lecture from his friend. Then, his head bumped into something—something that smelled familiar. The flowery scent of his past. He stopped in his tracks and sat back on his haunches as his eyes slowly drifted up a tight little body encased in black stockings and a fitted cream--colored skirt. Crossed arms around a white blouse with red hair cascading down narrow shoulders, he was met with green eyes. Green eyes he hadn't seen since leaving for Europe ten years ago. A trip, which had been cut drastically short, when he had been recruited during a last--minute spot to play college football at Notre Dame, something that went completely against his parents' wishes and was still a point of contention between them.

"Looking for this?" the bombshell asked, holding his phone casually in one hand.

Once he picked up his tongue off the floor and put it back inside his mouth he nodded as she tossed it to him. But of course, he missed it because right at that moment he couldn't wrap his head around the woman who stood not five feet away from him.

"Gun, this is Adalyn Finney. She says you've met before."

With her hands on her hips, looking like a cross between a Dominatrix and tough-as-nails attorney, she said, "Do you always hang out on your hands and knees in your home, Mr. McCall?"

"Do you always barge into other people's homes in the early hours without calling first?"

"Gun, it's noon," Jeff said. "And I left you a voice mail yesterday and then called you last night and again this morning to remind you."

Feeling emasculated by his position on the floor looking up at this woman, the only woman who'd ever meant anything to him, he stood up and took a step back. "To remind me of what? I already have a maid; I don't need another one."

She looked as if she'd been physically assaulted by the verbal jab. "Go fuck yourself, Gunther."

"Oh—" Jackson said, surprise at the interaction. "So, you guys like really really know each other."

"Unfortunately," she said, which sent a stab of pain into his unfeeling heart.

"I need a shower, water, and an Aspirin before you even start to explain what the hell is going on."

3

Okay, so she had been way off the mark, Addie thought as she stared at Gun storming off. She thought she'd be prepared to see him again. She thought she had moved on from the awful memories of Gun leaving her all those years ago. It had been mutual, of course. He had to leave for his trip to Europe—a gap year, he had called it. Something people with a lot of money and time could luxuriate into doing. And, she had to keep her job at his parents' house and finish school.

Except, she'd seen the tabloids and how he'd gone on to play football in college and then drafted to the NFL. She'd read all about his parents disowning him. She had been rooting for him to do what he loved, even at the expense of his parents' approval, although she had been so very hurt that he'd never reached out, not once.

She thought she was strong.

She had been very wrong.

After ten years, Gun had changed from a guy to a man. All the softness from his youth was long gone. Where he used to be the cute, lean jock she'd fallen head over heels in love with in a short few months, he now looked like danger and sex all rolled into one seriously hot muscular man. Coming into this new job, she'd been prepared to find him attractive. Hell, she'd been following him on social media and television for years. What she hadn't been prepared for was the way those blue eyes would still make her feel. The same blue eyes she used to get lost in, the ones that could reach deep into her soul and extract all her feelings from just one look, leaving her feeling exposed yet protected all at the same time. Thankfully, he had left to shower because she'd needed a moment to control her thumping heart and the surge of emotions, she'd felt from having been this close to him again.

Jeff excused himself and she was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the expansive living room, all the confidence she'd walked in with had seeped out of her body. Addie set her purse down on the coffee table and took stock of the apartment. There were photos everywhere. Pictures of him with his friends, teammates, places he'd travelled, and a few of his parents. Her palm brushed along all the trophies, and there were many. She continued to walk along until the wall became a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the ocean.

Jeff was in a heated conversation on his cell phone in the other room, but she smelled coffee. Following the rich scent, she saw Jeff barking orders through his phone as he stumbled with the creamer and pushed a mug her way and then walked away.

She had moved to back to Miami from Tampa for a job with the NFL as a Consultant for the Post-Career Planning Program (PCPP) and hadn't once been able to even see the beach in the three months she'd been living there. She loved the beach and one of her best memories was the Saturday before Gunther left; they had spent the entire day just lying on the sand, watching the waves crash into the jetties while talking and laughing.

If this was the closest she was going to get to the ocean, she'd take advantage of it. By the looks of things, she was going to be waiting on Gun for a while. With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, she opened the sliding door and made herself comfortable on his oversized balcony. It was glorious. Salty wind filled her lungs and the humid heat enveloped her body. This right here—this, was perfection. The sound of the ocean from thirty-eight stories up, and the squawking of the seagulls above, soothed her soul and calmed her nerves.

She closed her eyes, leaned back into the lounge chair, and sipped her coffee. God, she wished this was a different occasion. Even though this job was going to epically boost her professional life, right now, she could die a happy woman if she was in her yoga pants and tank top with a book in her hand. Instead she was in stockings, heels, and a too tight around the knees and thighs pencil skirt, making it difficult to get comfortable.

The only soothing thought she had as she closed her eyes was that she had come prepared. Regardless of her initial visceral reaction to him, she'd left her feelings for the man in the past. Never again would she let a man hurt her. She'd lived her life with this mantra, and at the age of thirty-five she'd been successful at it.

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