Page 3 of Wrecked
Chapter Two
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Payton
I readjust the thin strapson my red sundress and dab a bit of clear gloss on my lips. Don't want to overdo it on my first day. Working for my father should be easy. How hard is ordering parts? My heels click against the tile floor of my apartment to grab my purse, and then I head down to the shop.
I breathe in the fresh Long Island summer air and smile. My new home that I’ve lived in for about a month or so. This tiny New York town is perfect for me. After living on the west coast most of my life, it’s a long overdue change.
When I arrive at the shop, the smell of oil and sweat greets me. I glance around for the man I saw last night when I dropped my car off to be fixed. Not expecting to see that when I came to the shop. At all. Who does that? Wonder what my father would think to know his employees are busy gettingfavorsfrom his clients. But, I’d never say a word. Nope my lips are sealed. To each his own.
My dad looks up from behind the counter and frowns. “Payton, you should've worn jeans.”
I shake my head and walk over to kiss his cheek. “I think there's enough testosterone in here.”
“It's a garage not a fashion show,” he says, leading me down a hallway to the office.
“Well this place could use a woman’s touch,” I tell him. I already know that customer service counter needs some fresh flowers. It's boring and drab.
“Fire up the computer,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll be back in a few to get you started.”
The leather chair let's out a squeak when I sit down. I survey the office. How do people work like this? It's four white walls, one with a time clock, a desk, two leather chairs and a trash can. This room needs some life if I'm going to be spending eight hours a day here. I pull the daisy covered pen holder from my purse and set it on the oak desk. It's a start.
As I’m booting up the computer, the door creaks open.
“Who are you?” a husky voice asks.
I swivel around. “Payton.” I look up and my heart slams against my chest. It’s him—blowjob guy. He seems taller, but maybe that's because he's not hunched over shoving his dick down someone's throat. He's hot; I'll give him that. Brown hair all over the place, green eyes full of mischief, and a body that clearly shows he visits the gym often.
Unable to stop it, my cheeks warm.
“You work here?” he asks.
“Yes.” We both gawk at each other while the air in this stuffy office fills with awkwardness. “My dad owns the place.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “About last night, I don’t normally do that at work.”
“It’s fine.” I want the conversation to end. How uncomfortable. I squeeze my thighs together at the thought of it. Cause if I'm being honest, it turned me on.
And I’mnotthat type of girl. It’s like something else took over, and I stood frozen in place, watching.
The man in my office takes a deep breath. “The name’s Asher.”
I don’t care, do I?
“Nice to meet you. I’m Payton,” I say in a tiny voice. Why am I nervous?
His eyes rake over my body, heating it up. Actually, it’s like it sets it on fire or something.
I shake my head, regaining control of this situation.
“You know what, don’t let it happen again, or I’ll tell my father,” I say. God, I sound like a narc or a goody-goody.
His lip lifts at the one corner. “You wouldn’t want that to happen again with anyone else, would you? Just you, right?”
I sit up straighter in my chair. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant.”
He nods, moving closer. “I think it’s exactly what you meant.”
