3. Scott

3

SCOTT

I ’d fucked myself right over when I spouted off all that garbage last night. Ryland’s glee at seeing me turn paranoid almost made me regret it, but as I read the ad copy he’d written, I stood by my demands. As I scrolled down the ad while pulling open the coffee shop door, slammed to a stop before plowing into the back of a rather tall woman who glared at me when I invaded her personal space.

My million-dollar smile appeased her enough to turn back around without a loud beratement. Geez. Someone definitely needed their morning java.

The line from me to the counter held a dozen or so people, and an annoyed burst of air tickled my nose. “Should’ve gone to Java Mac.” The woman ahead of me crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow.

Her voice was low and gravelly, the kind I loved hearing late at night as pleasure spiked through my body. Damn I needed to get laid. If I’d resorted to fantasies while standing in the coffee shop, I had a real problem.

“No kidding.” I offered a low chuckle. “Good thing I’m the boss.”

Her smile stretched tight. “Must be nice.” She flipped her wrist over and showed me the time. “I’ll be the one getting screamed at for being late with the big man’s cup of joe.”

“Yeah? Sounds like you work for a real prick.” I finished reading the ad from Ryland, sending him a text saying that it looked fine before bringing my attention back to the line and the woman.

She watched me with narrowed eyes. “Funny thing. You remind me of him.”

“Ouch.” I palmed my chest, my most devastating smile in place. I had no intention of wooing this woman, but the distraction helped pass the time, and I loved a good distraction. Especially one with a tight ass and solid C cups.

“I’m sorry.” A strong, brash voice slashed through the shop. A mulish looking man stood with his hands on his hips and a mean scowl twisting his face into a pucker tighter than an acrobat’s asshole.

A woman stood in front of him, a little girl on her hip. She hefted the girl higher and tugged her hair over the opposite shoulder to keep the toddler from tying it in knots. Already, a long strand sported a rat’s nest of snarls from the girl’s handiwork. With her hair moved, she exposed a long, slender neck, a gorgeous ass, and just the right amount of curve to her hips. Slim jeans accentuated long legs, and when she turned, I damn near stopped breathing.

Blue eyes as bright as a summer sky met mine for a split second before she focused on the girl clinging to her neck. “She won’t be any trouble. Look, she could stay right here.” Her left hand shot out—ringless, I noted with surprise—and patted a lone table.

“Can’t.” The man remained resolute.

The woman shifted her weight so that her face came into full view. Pouty lips. No makeup. Eyelashes that stretched for days. And that hair… I wanted it fisted in my hands and draped across my chest.

The girl turned and rested her cheek on the woman’s shoulder. Hazel eyes scanned the room and locked onto me. She kicked her legs and giggled, wiggling her fingers in my direction. I returned her smile, my heart melting, and waved back. There was no doubt the woman was her mother. They looked too much alike and there was something about the protective stance and the desperation in the woman’s voice that solidified my determination. Mother and daughter for sure.

The line shifted forward by one person. I took a step, getting just close enough so that the woman’s whispered plea met my straining ears. “Please. You don’t understand. I need a job for the summer.”

“And I need someone who can work without having to keep track of their kid.” His scowl deepened, and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep from choking the guy. Who talked to a woman like that?

I mentally gave him thirty seconds to change his tone before I interrupted. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last. Fucking bastards who thought they could get away with talking to women like they were trash. I’d wipe the world clean of them. I might be a player, but I respected the hell out of women.

Another kick from the little girl, her sandaled foot brushing over her mom’s back, and that cascade of hair fell back within her grasp. The girl didn’t hesitate to grab up great handfuls and bunch it into knots. I winced at the trouble that waited when her mom tried to brush it out later.

“Look, I’m sorry.” The manager held out both his hands toward the woman. “I really am. But there’s nothing I can do. It doesn’t matter how well behaved she is. She’s a liability. No one under eighteen is allowed behind the counter.”

“But she wouldn’t be behind the counter.” A silent plea took over the woman’s expression, turning her blue eyes even more vibrant.

“Rules are rules. If you want to work here, you’ll need to find a daycare like everyone else.” He didn’t sound sorry, but at least his tone softened.

“Please. I’ve been looking all over town. There’s nothing available for the summer where I can keep Liddy with me.” She stroked one finger down the girl’s arm, drawing out a giggle.

“My hands are tied,” the manager said as he turned away. “I have employees to look after.” He left her standing there.

The woman turned, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her chin lifted as she whispered to her daughter. Tears filled her eyes, and the sight of them dropped my stomach to the floor. It must’ve kept going until it reached hell because a hot burn started behind my naval.

I stepped out of line. We needed help for the summer. This woman needed a job. It was crazy. Ludacris, even. After everything I said last night about finding an older woman we could trust, how could I even think about approaching this woman?

I’d deal with that later. A possible solution was walking toward me, and I’d not turned into a billionaire by taking the safe road. The girl spotted me first and dove toward her mom’s neck, wrapping both arms tight around it.

I slipped into step beside her. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” I held out a business card, noting the flash of pessimism in her eyes. “Yeah, I know. Cliche tactic. I would tell you I’m a nice guy, but at that point I might as well slick back my hair and ask if you’ve ever done any modeling.”

That earned me a smirk and a short bark of laughter. “You look too smart for that. If anything, you’d offer to take me on a cruise and I’d never be seen again.” The tragedy of the human trafficking analogy sobered us both.

I gave the card to the girl, who promptly bent it in half and picked at the raised letters. “I’m Scott King.” A moment passed as I waited for recognition. When it failed to strike, I fought down a genuine smile. “I have a job you might be interested in.” Approaching a random woman in the middle of a coffee shop wasn’t my smoothest move, but desperate times and all that prompted me to keep going.

Her throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “What kind of job?” Wariness poured from her, but amid that tentative question, attraction sparked.

Those blue eyes held heartache. I fisted my phone between my hands to keep them still. Comforting women came naturally, but an unwelcome touch caused more harm than I was willing to risk. The barista called out an order with a shrillness that raised the hair on the back of my neck. I motioned toward a table. “Would you like to sit?”

“I’m fine.” Her chin notched upward a bit, the defiance plain. The girl wiggled and twisted in an obvious plea to be released. “What kind of job?” she asked again. “Can I bring my daughter?”

“A housekeeper. And yes.” I moved toward the table and sat, hoping she’d follow my example.

After a moment of staring me down, she dropped into the chair across from me and set the girl down beside her.

The urge to reach toward her overwhelmed me. What was it about this woman that tempted my self-control? I leaned back and unbuttoned my jacket, letting it fall open. “I own a rather large house on Chapel Street.” She might not recognize my name, but everyone knew about the homes on that particular road.

Her eyes widened a fraction before she regained her composure. “You look like the type.”

“Oh?” I propped my elbow on the back of the chair beside me. “What type is that?”

“Rich.” She fiddled with the paper on a straw and looked out the window where people streamed past. The coffee shop settled into a less chaotic atmosphere as the last of the morning rush departed. “Entitled,” she added. The spark of attraction flamed hotter when she met my eyes. “Like you think the whole world bows at your feet.”

I laughed outright at that which seemed to startle her. The girl laughed with me, though I doubted she understood what happened.

“You got the first two right. But it’s been a while since anyone bowed at my feet.” I allowed my face to soften and lowered my voice. “I’m not that kind of man.”

“No?” She set her forearms on the table and leaned toward me. “What kind of man are you, Scott King?”

The kind who would take care of her if she’d let me but understood that independence mattered to her. Was it wise to invite this woman into our home when I felt so strongly about her? She was smart, savvy, and beautiful. A perfect trifecta that would have me on my knees before her if the situation called for it. It posed a dangerous risk having her around all summer, especially if I couldn’t keep my flirtations under control.

I held on by a thread when she lowered her eyes, her gaze sweeping over me like she read every line of my body in a single glance.

Honesty served me best here, so I answered her with a genuineness I rarely revealed. “I’m the billionaire who can offer you a job for the summer. It’s a dream gig.”

“I bet,” she muttered under her breath.

Heat ran along every nerve-ending when her lashes fluttered. My cock stirred as an image of how she must look in bed infiltrated my mind. “You wouldn’t want for anything.” Silky smooth and decadent with innuendo, I threatened to cross the line as I teased her. It wouldn’t do us any good if I brought her on only to frighten her away a month later.

“You don’t even know my name. How can you offer me a job?”

I scrolled through my phone and spun it around to show her the ad we’d placed. “It’s no different from this.” I handed her my phone and plucked another card from my pocket, along with a pen. “Here’s the address, and my personal number. Come by at five this afternoon for an official interview if you’re interested.”

Instead of being put off by my charms, she smiled. It did funny things to my heart, that smile. It made me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. I had the opportunity to help this woman. Didn’t that mean I also had the obligation?