Page 8 of Babydoll

It’s... it’s...

Omg! What’s worse than shit? I blink twice and then groan aloud before grabbing the scraper off my cart.

Clearly, since I can’t even think of any synonyms, this job is not just shit, but also brain-melting. As I turn to put the gross goo I just scraped off the floor into the garbage, I hit SSD. He’s standing right there in front of my cart. My eyes dart from him to the lunchroom and back again, and I’m filled with a mixture of needy heat and anger—and I have no reason to be angry, except maybe I’m annoyed at being startled by his cat-like approach. But either way I want to slam him against the wall—hard, and kiss him with equal parts anger and lust. I might also have the urge to bite him.

But despite the hot anger-lust, I do nothing. I don’t smile at him. And I definitely don’t bite. Lu, the underpaid janitor, doesn’t smile at anyone, and as of yet, I haven’t bit anyone either.

Instead of smiling, saying hi, or biting, I blurt, “You’re walking on my clean floor. Were you born in a damn barn?”

His brow wrinkles slightly as he assesses me in my unsexy, sack-like one-piece grey coveralls. Not that I’m sexy in any otherattire either. That ship has sailed, thank you Satan’s Ransom and your inflated payment plan that cuts into my grocery budget and my former curves.

“My apologies.” His eyes narrow slightly when I stare unspeaking. “If there’s another way to the office…” He doesn’t finish his sentence because I grunt and scrape the goo off the goo-removal tool while maintaining eye contact. He shakes his head and moves past me.

I smirk.

I may be a bitch, but I’m not too bitchy to admire his backside as he walks away. And doing so even lightens my mood a little… until he speaks.

“You forgot to replace the bag in the break room trash can. Brad’s in there cursing.”

I gnash my teeth.

For fuck’s sake. This job is shit.

Chapter Two

Lu

It’s the end of my next shift when I see SSD again. He’s standing at the punch clock, blocking the exit, ready to swipe our cards because management thinks we’re incapable. And I’m in no better mood. Then again, when am I ever in a good mood here? It seems when I pull on my coveralls a bad attitude comes with them. But I’m also hangry. So bloody hangry. And Sharpie Jeff’s pudding, chocolate today, is burning a hole in my pocket.

“Hey,” he says, and I nod, coldly. Admittedly, my cheeks do warm though, but not because I’m embarrassed by how rude I was the last time I saw him. It’s more because up close he’s even more handsome, and last night, as I was cramped in my car’s too-small back seat attempting to sleep, I’d dreamt of him. Specifically, my skirt hiked up and the top of his gorgeous head between my thighs.

Lu doesn’t wear skirts, but Tallulah does, and she’s apparently got a thing for this guy as well. Down, girl.

My dream, and its unattainable nature, make me hangrier. Hangry and bitter, Lu’s two best friends.

Sexy Security Dude’s expression is bright—all straight white teeth and crooked boyish grin. And his eyes sparkle as if heknows a secret—gulp, hopefully not what I’d dreamt about last night.

“What?” I blurt accusingly as he stares expectantly.

His brow wrinkles and those sexy eyes drop to stare at the card in my hand. “Uh, good shift then, huh?”

I frown when his gaze finds mine again. Saucy fucker.

I shove out my swipe card for him, but he only glances at it. I’m standing at the front of a long-ass line of tired workers, and he’s just staring at me as if he knows I crumpled at his touch in my dream last night. I glare at him, then look pointedly at the line behind me before turning back.

Leaving this building is my favorite thing these days. My life is so incredibly crappy at the moment, leaving at the end of my shift can be counted as self-care. Except when it’s really cold.

“I’ll be happier when it’s over,” I finally say, in hopes it will move things forward. When he doesn’t budge, I nod my chin toward the punch clock. He looks over his shoulder at it, to the card in my hand and then back at me expectantly.

My eyes narrow and I’ve gone from frowning to scowling. “Let’s go! It’s eleven-oh-two, buddy.”

“That’s not going to work, I’m afraid.” He points at my card.

For fuck’s sake. I’m about to explode when I suddenly become aware of who’s actually holding things up.

Me.

Hell.

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