Page 5 of Secretary Crush
She squeals, claps, and pulls me against her for a hug. “Good. I’m so happy for you!”
When she releases me, I look over at Gage. “I can’t thank you enough.”
He holds up his hand. “It was nothing.”
“I know you think that, but it really was kind of you to vouch for someone you don’t even know. Let me cook you two dinner tonight as a thank-you. I make a mean lasagna. What do you say?”
Zoe looks up at Gage with lifted brows and slightly nods her head. He smiles. “Okay, sounds good. What time?” he asks.
“Does seven work?” I shrug.
They agree, and I head into my apartment while they continue down the hall to get to wherever they’re going. I’m so excited about my new job that I don’t want to sit down. I just want to be up and moving to make sure I have everything ready. I go straight to my room and start going through my clothes, looking for things to wear. I dig out several pairs of cutoffs, old jeans that I don’t mind ruining, tank tops, and T-shirts. I don’t have any work boots, so I grab my old black Chuck Taylors and toss them out of the closet so they’re easy to pull on in the morning.
With that done, I head to the kitchen to prep for dinner. When I finish with the lasagna, I wrap it in foil before sliding it into the fridge to pull out later. I find myself with a few hours before dinner and nothing else to do. The apartment is still spotless, and I don’t have enough dirty laundry to even think about doing that to occupy my time. I end up pouring a glass of wine and sitting on the couch as I scroll through social media on my phone.
After I catch up with all my friends’ updates, I send a friend request to my neighbors across the hall. Their pages are private, so I end up poking through Gage’s friends' list until I find my new boss. I click on his page and find several posts for the garage for specials they're running on oil changes, bikes they’ve created, and appointment openings. He shares a lot of motorcycle-related memes but only a few pictures of himself. I end up scrolling back several months, and that’s when things get interesting.
About six months ago, he posted a series of photos with Daytona Beach as his tagged location. He’s mouthwateringly gorgeous in these photos. On the beach in nothing but black swim shorts and sunglasses, he has just as many tattoos covering his chest as his arms. And boy, oh boy, is he muscular. He’s wearing a bright white smile. The only thing I don’t like in the photos is the busty blonde beside him. She’s your typical porn star look-alike with long bleach-blond hair, tanned skin, big boobs, narrow waist, long legs, and a curvy ass in a red thong. She has tattoos in all the right places, long eyelashes that frame her blue eyes, and bright red lips.
Based on the pictures taken, the two look totally in love, always laughing, smiling, or cuddling. He’s even taken pictures of her from behind as she’s walking toward the water. I swipe everything on my phone away, annoyed. If this is the kind of woman he likes, then I have no chance. I’m short, only standing at about five foot three. Everything about me is small—my short legs, my ass, my boobs. I’m not a bleach blonde either. I have dark hair, but it is long, hanging to nearly my ass. I shake my head. What am I thinking? This is my boss. Just because I find him attractive doesn’t mean I’ll get into a relationship. I can’t do that. I need this job, so I will do everything within my power to keep from ruining this.
At some point, I end up drifting off to sleep, and I wake a little while later when my phone chimes with a new friend request. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and pick up my phone from the couch beside me. When I unlock it, I see that I have a new friend request from Hudson Thompson. I smile as I click confirm. It makes me happy that he’s sending me a friend request. It means that he tried snooping on my page. However, mine is set to private.
After sliding the phone into my pocket, I stand and move toward the kitchen. I need to start getting ready for dinner, so I pull out the ingredients to make a salad and start the oven for the lasagna and garlic bread. I don’t have a kitchen table, so I just set up the bar with three place settings, then I pop open a fresh bottle of wine to breathe. About the time that everything is getting done, someone is knocking on the door, and when I answer it, I find my dinner guests on the other side. I greet them with a smile as I open the door wider for them to enter.
They both give me a hug as they pass, Gage handing over a bottle of wine before I show them to the kitchen, where they take their seats while I finish getting everything ready. It doesn’t take long until we’re all sitting and eating, talking about my new job, my new boss, and how my life is looking so much brighter than I thought it would when I moved into town.
4
HUDSON
Ican’t keep my eyes off her ass as she walks out of the office ahead of me. The side-to-side sway of her dress is mesmerizing. She heads out of the garage and over to her car. When she climbs behind the wheel, Tony comes over and stands beside me.
“Who’s the girl?”
“Her name is Ella. I just hired her to work the office.” I scratch the back of my head as I watch her car back up and drive off.
His eyes widen. “You hired her?”
“Why do you look so surprised? You’ve seen the condition of that office. We need help.”
He smirks. “Oh, I know how much help we need….but her?” he asks again with a lift of his brow. “You know the guys are going to be all over her. Hell, I wouldn’t mind taking her out myself.”
Something inside me takes that as a challenge, and I don’t like it. I step farther into the garage. “Listen up,” I say, loud enough for all six guys to hear me. The clanking sounds and low murmurs of the grumbling guys quiet down. “Did you guys just see the woman who was in the office with me?”
They reply with a hoot, holler, or cheer.
“She’s the new office girl. Her name is Ella, and she starts work tomorrow. Now, some ground rules. You assholes will start using the bathroom here in the garage. Marvin, you drew the short straw this month. I want you in that bathroom for the rest of the day getting it cleaned up.” I point in his direction. He lets out a long string of curse words, but he drops his wrench and heads to the shop bathroom.
“As for the rest of you, I don’t want you in the office bothering her just to do it. Go in there and give her your parts list to order, give her client info to make calls and deliver messages, but that’s it.” I lean around the toolbox and cross my arms over my chest. “Another thing, keep the dick and fart jokes to a minimum. She’s a lady. We’re not just a bunch of men in a garage anymore, so watch your mouths. And most importantly, nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, is allowed to date her. Hands off and keep your eyes away. No flirting. No friendships. No asking her out for a beer or dinner after work. Nothing. I don’t want anything, or anyone, to chase her away from this garage. Got it?”
They all nod and wave me off before going back to work. The rest of the day goes by in a usual manner, and it makes me wonder how having a woman here will change things. Sure, Joanne has worked here off and on throughout the years, but the guys are used to her, and honestly, they don’t look at her like she’s really a woman. They always knew she was mine, so they treated her with respect but like another one of the guys. Ella isn’t mine. She’s young and beautiful and up for grabs. It’s only a matter of time before one of these horny bastards sinks their teeth into her. I guess I’ll have to be extra vigilant and make sure they all keep their distance.
We need this. We need her to get this place back into shape because we can’t keep operating like this. We’re losing orders, submitting and resubmitting insurance claims because things get forgotten or lost, and none of it looks professional. I want to hire one person, and I want them to be here for as long as possible. I want her to know the office work inside and out and be able to do it better than even I can. I cross my fingers and pray this works out.
When the day ends, I head over to the bar and grill in town and slide into a booth in the bar section. I like to sit in the bar area for the environment and to watch the games on the TVs. Being close to the bar is also a plus because it doesn’t take long to get drinks. But I don’t like to sit at the bar because you usually have to deal with guys who want to talk about the game and girls who want you to buy them a drink. Sitting at a booth stops all of that for some reason. It’s like an unspoken rule—sit at the bar, you want to talk, but sit at a booth, you want to be alone.
The server comes over, and I order a beer while I look over the menu and decide what I want for dinner. I settle on ordering a plate of hot wings for an appetizer and a double cheeseburger with a plate of onion rings for dinner. She brings back my beer and leaves to put my order in. I keep my eyes trained on the TV above the door as I sip at my beer. My thoughts are only on the golf game that’s playing. I’m not really a golf man, but all the basketball and football games are reruns.
