Page 2 of The Chance
Even his laugh was deep and reverberating. I swore my internal organs quivered at the sound of his hoarse chuckle. "You’re either the farmer or his help?"
"Bit of both." He half shrugged.
That was not a satisfactory answer. I needed more intel, more insight into his life. Hell, I just wanted to kiss him. Who cared about names and job prospects when there was a hottie alert flashing before me.
As much as I needed to rescue my abandoned car, I found myself lingering in his company. Today, however, wasn't the day to saunter into work late. I had an important meeting arranged and several campaigns to rework. A moment passed without a single word spoken, and then he reached into his pocket and offered the patient dog a treat. “And for the record, city girl…” My hair raised at the root. “I appreciate you.” He appreciated me. I scrunched up my face. “If the wind changes, your face will stay like that.” A smile played on his mouth. “I appreciate your help.” He confirmed. "Send me the dry-cleaning bill for your clothes." The hunky farmer turned away, the dog following obediently.
I looked down to my court shoes to find them speckled with dirt like sandblasted glass, but my skirt was clean.
"Your ass." He added without looking back.
I flicked my head over my shoulder and peered down to ugly splatters of brown goop decorating my skirt and the back of my legs. "Can this morning get anymore shittier?" I stamped my foot and swiveled around, ready to navigate the bumpy exit with unsteady steps. “Pardon the shitty pun.” I muttered to myself with a snide grumble.
Footsteps grew louder and, in a flash, I was lifted into the air and slung over the farm guy’s broad shoulder in a fireman style lift. My head dangled closely to his rock hard ass and the tips of my hair almost swept the dirt like a witch’s broom. "I'll give you a lift to your car. My treat."
"No way, mister, put me down." My lower legs flicked up at the knees, but his hands secured my thighs with a firm grip. I was held captive, and if I was honest, it was an overwhelming adrenaline rush. If he could excite me like that with only a chivalrous lift, if not a tad barbaric, then what could he do to me in the bedroom?
The tall, dark and handsome stranger carried me with ease, no huffing, puffing or heavy grunting. I fully expected a guy like him to have the brawn to carry a heavy weight, perhaps not expecting that weight to be me, but nonetheless enthralled by the gesture. He was built like a bull and filled out his overalls with a tautness that made me envy the fabric's close connection.
"My name is Seb." He dropped me down to my heels, holding my hand to steady me. "Sebastian Cooper."
I could feel a pink blush creep up my neck. "Well, Seb Cooper, I'm...late." I raked my lengths into place. He’d spun my sensibilities off course, and I was feeling unhinged and extremely horny.
I scampered across the road and waved at the vehicles lined up behind mine. Once I was in the car, I dared to look over at him. He stood on the embankment with his dog by his side and the most devastatingly sexy smile stretched across his peppered jaw.
My heart lurched like it wanted to stay. Sebastian was sinful in all sorts of ways...and I’d bumped into him just by chance. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I sighed loudly knowing I’d never set eyes on my gorgeous farm guy again.
Two
It was forty-five minutes after my usual start time. I crept into work with my tail between my legs and a baby wipe stuck to my heel.
"What on earth have you been doing, Lexi?" My boss, Mags, quirked a disapproving eyebrow and slid her glasses down the bridge of her nose, inspecting my less than immaculate appearance. "You're supposed to be meeting Denzel in thirty minutes."
"I know, I'm sorry. I had an issue this morning." I smoothed down the new skirt I bought in the boutique shop a few streets up from the office. It cost me thirty-five pounds and hung like a dish cloth. It was either fork out for a new skirt or sit in a meeting stinking of cow shit. The girl in the shop gave me a wet wipe to clean up my shoes. It took two, and a wad of toilet paper to bring them back to life.
Mags lowered her chin and spoke to the pages in front of her. "I called you five times, Lexi. You better be prepared for the presentation." She stated rather than asked. I didn't get the opportunity to screw this up. If I did, I was out on my ass. End of story. No money, no self-respect and a father who would kick my ass from here to Dublin.
"You did? I didn't hear my phone." Then it hit me like a brick to the skull – I hadn't seen my phone since I bounced out of the car at the top of Seb Coopers lane way. I had it in my hand to check the time and then...
I palmed my forehead. "Ugh, I dropped my phone."
Mags sighed. Her pout puckered the fine lines around her lips and her beady eyes cut to mine, glazed in a death stare with my name all over it. The cold stare raised the hackles on my neck, making me feel like I was used gum stuck to the bottom of her kitten heels. She didn't like me, that much was obvious, yet I still had to try and please the woman, daily. It was becoming a mindless game of try harder, and I was utterly fed up.
I slung my bag on top of the desk and rummaged through the mess in the hope of finding my glittery phone case beneath the junk. If I was honest with myself, things hadn't been going right in my job for some time. After I left university, I couldn't secure a decent job that fell within the remits of my graphic design expertise. My father took charge by setting me up with a shitty job in an office that paid peanuts and had me working long hours. It was his fabulous idea, concocted between him and an old work colleague. His plan was to get me into paid employment and away from the large bags of salty popcorn that I consumed like an overzealous vacuum, while whipping up pointless designs on my laptop. So, I settled for a desk job with a soul-destroying boss, known as the 'she bitch', by me only. It was the best name for a woman who hated my guts for no reason.
"Hey. You smell weird." Linda was my fellow work slave and desk buddy. She sat beside me and helped brighten the dull office interior with her bold clothes and bedazzling hot pink lips.
"You smell weird too," I added. I think it was her new perfume, but then she probably smelled better than baby wipes and animal excrement.
"Why are you late this time?" Her defined brow rose, and those power lips puckered as she pretended to chastise me. I knew she didn't give a shit if I rolled in late, but she did like to know all the gossip.
Sinking down into my seat and scooting closer, I whispered, "I had to fuel the car. Then I got stuck in a traffic jam because there were run away cows on the main road."
"Girl, you have the worst luck. Make sure you never walk under a ladder."
"Why?"
"Because you'd get hit on the head with some random shit like a hammer or a bucket of paint."
