Page 73 of Whiskey Neat

“Okay, but it’s probably because I’m not interested in anything long term either. We’re on the same page so it’s easy.”

“I’m sure that’s it.” Lowen’s smile feels a tad condescending. “Well, I’m off. I have my phone if you need me.”

He leaves like a hummingbird looking for new gardens. I chuckle, turning my attention to the box of folders. My phone pings and I pull it out of my back pocket to see the text from Lowen with his to-do list on it. The guy is organized to the hilt.

I turn on my You Better Work playlist and get busy. I’m alone right now except for the crew out front. At least with Indy not being here, I can get some shit done without the constant distraction of his presence. Every day, he finds time to come in and work me over, either right here in the office or he drags me back to the house for a quickie lunch break, and every night I go home wishing I could let my guard down enough to ask him for what I really want—him impaling me with the giant cock between his legs.

After working for about thirty minutes, I look up to see my least favorite construction worker filling the doorway. He doesn’t say anything as he stands there.

“Can I help you?”

Jack nods, but the look on his face is… off. I pull my head back and cross my arms over my chest.

“What do you need?”

When he licks his lips, alarms go off in my head, and in a flash, Jack closes in on me, groping my ass as he pulls me into his body. It takes a second for my brain to register what’s happening, but when I do, I launch into action, lifting my knee into his balls and simultaneously grabbing his arm to yank it behind him. In one swift move, Jack is on his knees, groaning as I twist his arm. He yells in pain.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” I press my knee between his shoulder blades. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall reaches me, and suddenly, Kit, Indy, and one of the construction workers are hurrying into the office.

Jack groans, slumping forward.

Kit grins while Indy looks like he could turn green and grow ten sizes bigger.

“Jack, dude,” his colleague says. “What’s going on?”

“Tell them what you did, Jack.” I put pressure on his arm.

He doesn’t respond so I tweak his arm until he writhes in pain. “I made a move on him.”

“A very non-consensual move is what you made,” I explain. “It’s called assault and you’re lucky I didn’t break your arm.”

The other worker is on his phone, and seconds later he says, “Oakley, you need to get to Moby’s now.”

Indy swoops in, lifting Jack by the front of his shirt—no small task given Jack’s size—and hauls him to his feet. We all follow as he drags Jack through the bar and out of the front door, dumping him on the sidewalk.

Jack suddenly looks small, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at us. “I got it wrong, okay?” he finally says. “You walk around here swinging your hips and taunting me with that ass. I thought you were flirting.”

I scoff. “Lame. You know damn well I wasn’t flirting with you when I’m practically glued to Indy whenever possible. You’re a creep, Jack. Admit it.”

Oakley and Lowen pull up in Oakley’s construction truck, and Oakley is out without bothering to properly park. “What the fuck, Jack?”

Jack groans again, dropping his head.

“I’m not about to tell you how to run your business, but he can’t come back here again,” Indy says. He turns his hard gaze to Jack. “If I ever see your face…” The unfinished threat lingers in the air.

Jack manages to get to his feet. “I guess I’m fired?”

Oakley just nods, his jaw tight and eyes dark with anger. “You’ll get your last check in the mail.”

Jack shuffles off toward the parking lot, only glancing back once before climbing into his truck. We all watch him drive away before going inside.

Once the adrenaline of the incident is over, I slump against Indy, who wraps his big arms around me.

“Did he hurt you?”

Shaking my head, I huff. “No. He only managed to grope my ass before my self-defense skills kicked in.”

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