Page 8 of French Martini

LOWEN

Silence.

I love this time of day.

The guys won’t roll in for a few hours still, so I can sit in the office and make sure all our spreadsheets and accounting is set up for the new year. Not that I haven’t already checked it twenty times, but I’m thorough if nothing else.

The loud buzzing of the back doorbell breaks the moment, and I grumble as I rise from my seat and make my way to the kitchen. Who the hell is here for deliveries at this time of day?

After unlocking the door, I push it open to find Oakley on the other side, his arms full of boxes. My stomach does an annoying flip that ripples down between my legs, and if my cheeks aren’t turning pink, I’d be shocked.

“Good morning,” he says in his deep, gruff voice. “I figured you’d be here. I wanted to drop this off before I headed out to New Onyx.”

“What?”

Oakley smiles. “The special order for the hallway light bulbs came in. I know you really wanted them so…” He glances up at the snow falling. “Can I bring them in?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry. Come in.” I step to the side to allow him to pass, my eyes lingering on the tight fit of his jeans and the way they hug his ass. “What are you doing in New Onyx?”

“It’s a bid for this old beat-up office building.” He sets the boxes down on the stainless steel counter. “To be honest, I’m a little intimidated. The owner is some major player out there and word on the street is he’s very particular.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

“I don’t think you do. He’s reclusive. Yves Orpheus. He’s been buying up a few of the abandoned buildings in a rougher part of town.”

I scrunch my nose. “Gentrification?”

“Not at all. He’s building affordable housing. That’s why I want the job. I hope my work is good enough for him.”

“If you can work with me and make me happy I’m sure you can pass whatever criteria he has.”

Oakley nods, and I notice how his eyes linger on my mouth. He’s gotta be replaying what happened the other night, and if I wasn’t a coward, I would rip the bandage off and discuss it, but que sera, sera.

“Do you want help installing them?”

I blink several times, aware that he said something, but not sure what. “Huh?”

“The light bulbs. I got a few minutes before I need to take off.”

“Oh. Right.” I look over my shoulder at nothing. “No, I think we can manage. Be careful. The roads might be slick.”

“I will.”

“And good luck.” I pat his arm, aware of his muscles even through his thick coat.

“Thanks, Low. Have a good day, huh?”

“I’ll do my best.”

I walk him to the door and watch him get into his truck. He waves at me before driving down the alleyway, and I shiver as the chilly wind blows snow inside. I wasn’t sure how our first interaction would go after the night we shared, but I suppose I should have known Oakley would continue to be the professional gentleman that he is.

Even rubbing like animals in heat in my bed, he didn’t make a single move to get me naked or push me beyond what I was ready for. Leaning against the door, I replay the way his strong hands held me firmly, like he was afraid I’d run, but caressed me like a priceless piece of art.

I…like him. I wish that was enough to get me over my bullshit, but alas, it’s not, and there’s a business to run. I head back to the office, alone with my thoughts.

“Damn. It’s dead today,”Ridley says, dropping a pile of mail on the bar top in front of me.

“Everyone’s on their healthy bullshit,” Indy says while he and Salem fold the new order of t-shirts we received.

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