Sugar on the Edge, Page 3

Page 3

  I dial the number as I flip my gaze back and forth between her phone and mine.

  He answers on the fourth ring, just as I was expecting voice mail to pick up.

  “What?” is all he says, but his English accent is clear in just that one word.

  “Um… Mr. Cooke?”

  “Gavin,” he grumbles into the phone and if I’m not mistaken, his voice is a little slurred.

  “Uh… yeah, this is Savannah Shepherd. My roommate, Casey Markham, said you wanted me to call. ”

  There’s silence on the other line for a moment, and then he says irritably, “Who told you to call me?”

  “Casey Markham… your realtor? She said you might want me to clean your house?”

  I hear him hiss through his teeth, and he sounds even more irritated. “Fuck… yeah, I forgot about that. Look, I’m in the middle of something and can’t talk. Just be here tomorrow at ten, and we can discuss the details. ”

  “Ten in the morning?” I ask, just to clarify, because I have another house I have to clean starting at eight, and I don’t know if I can be done in time.

  “Of course, ten in the morning,” he says, clearly exasperated at my question. “Do you clean houses at ten at night?”

  “Sometimes,” I answer automatically, and I can tell he doesn’t have a comeback. “Look, Mr. Cooke…”

  “Gavin,” he butts in.

  “Gavin,” I acknowledge. “I have another job at eight and not sure I can be there by ten. Can we possibly—?”

  He cuts me off. “If you want the job, be here at ten. If you don’t, don’t be here at ten. Choice is yours. ”

  He then hangs up the phone on me, and I’m stuck listening to dead space.

  Putting my phone down, I glance up at Casey, who is watching me intently. “He really is an ass**le. ”

  “Told you,” she says, while nodding her head up and down. “What did he say?”

  “Told me to be there at ten if I wanted the job and then hung up on me,” I say as I start flipping through my contacts. I pull up the number for Grace Banner, the woman whose house I clean every Thursday at eight. “Guess I better see if I can be at her house a little early tomorrow. ”

  “Great,” Casey mutters as she watches me dial Grace’s number. “You’re trading in one douche employer for another. ”

  As the phone rings, I c**k an eyebrow at her. “I’m not trading just yet. Looks like I’ll have two douche employers for a while until I can cut one loose. ”

  Casey nods at me in commiseration.

  3

  Boom, boom, boom.

  The pounding in my head causes me to open my eyes slowly, because I know the sunlight filtering through the shades is going to hurt like a motherfucker.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  Christ, it seems to be getting louder, and I’m regretting polishing off that last half bottle of Macallan last night. I rub my eyes, which are caked with sleep, and turn my head to look at the alarm clock. Fuck… it’s only ten o’clock in the morning, and I was hoping to sleep past the majority of my hangover.

  Painkillers… that’s what I need right now.

  Gingerly sitting up and swinging my feet out of bed, I hesitantly put my fingertips to my temple and try to massage the pounding away.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  Fucking hell. That’s someone banging on my door, which causes the actual pounding in my head to skyrocket. Lurching out of bed, I stumble out of my bedroom, down the flight of stairs, and into the kitchen with my eyes only open to half slits because the sunlight isn’t helping the pain either. I manage to crack my hip against the counter, letting out a string of curses as I make my way to the front door.

  Boom, boom—

  I swing the door open forcefully and glare at the person standing there. “You better have a good excuse for pounding on my f**king door this early,” I snarl.

  “Mr. Cooke? You told me to be here at ten,” the person says… a woman, I can now glean, even though I’ve yet to fully open my eyes.

  Squinting at her hard, my eyes still blurry, I can make out a young woman with dark brown hair and unrecognizable facial features, as I’m sure I still have drunk goggles on. “I did?”

  “Um… yes, to talk about cleaning your house,” she says quietly. Even in all my hungover glory, I don’t fail to notice that she takes a small step backward.

  My mind is blank for a moment, and I have no clue what she’s talking about. Clean house? Ten o’clock?

  Then it sinks in… this is the woman my realtor recommended. It’s vaguely coming back to me that she called last night and we arranged a time to meet this morning.

  Scratching my stomach, I open my left eye up a little bit more to take a better look, and she starts to come into better focus. Pretty girl… beautiful actually. Not in the sunny, bright way that is Casey Markham, and not in the luscious, centerfold way that is my ex, Amanda. But in a fresh, wholesome kind of way. Long, brown hair with some red glints in it, soft brown eyes, lightly tanned skin, and full lips. As a writer, I’d stereotype her as the girl next door. She’d be the classic character that would immediately get ravaged by one of the monsters in my books, just for the sake of ravaging a fresh innocent.

  Taking a step back, I manage to open both eyes and clear my throat. “Sorry, I forgot, but come on in. ”

  She looks at me for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip and clearly indecisive about whether she should accept my invitation. I don’t wait around for her decision, instead giving her my back and walking into my kitchen. I hear her step inside and softly close the door.

  Busying myself with making a pot of coffee, I watch out of my peripheral vision as she hesitantly steps into the kitchen and stands as still as a statue. I don’t turn around to look at her but ask, “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Savannah,” she says softly. “Savannah Shepherd. ”

  After I put a filter in the machine, I scoop out some coffee, putting in extra to make it strong enough to help chase away this hangover. I take the pot and turn to fill it in the sink, giving her a quick glance. “Well, Savannah Shepherd, Casey told me that you do some house cleaning on the islands. Thought you might be interested in doing my house as well. ”

  She doesn’t respond to me though, so I raise my gaze up to her after turning off the water and pulling the pot back. Her wide eyes stare at me in indecision, and I suddenly wonder if she’s daft or something. “Cat got your tongue?” I ask.

  Shaking her head, she casts her eyes downward. “No… it’s just. Maybe you should get dressed first before we talk. ”

  I blink a few times, trying to register what she’s saying, and then drop my own gaze to casually peruse myself. Well, what do you know? I’m only wearing a pair of boxers with the fly gaping wide open, and my c**k is sticking out half erect.

  Oops. Bet she got an eyeful when I answered the door.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I adjust myself not so discreetly. I turn my back on her to fill the coffee machine up with water. Setting the pot on the burner, I flip the switch. Turning back around to face her, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. She can’t help herself… her eyes involuntarily flick down to my crotch and while I’m sure I’m completely covered after my adjustment, I’m betting I’m tenting my underwear nicely. Her face flames pink, and her eyes quickly come back up to mine.

  Giving her a tiny smirk, I say, “So… I need you to come probably twice a week to do general housecleaning… probably my laundry since I suck at both. ”

  “You aren’t going to get dressed?” she blurts out.

  Pinning her with a direct stare, I curve my lips up and say, “No, Savannah, I’m not. Got a problem with it?”

  “It’s slightly awkward having you standing in front of me half na**d for a job interview,” she says, and I’ll have to give her some credit for having a sass mouth. Oh, the things I’d love to do with a gir
l that smarts off to me.

  “You’re lucky I had my boxers on when you woke me up. Half the time I walk around naked,” I tell her with a serious look. I don’t, but I sort of like the blush she’s wearing and I wonder if I can get it to go a shade brighter. “Think of it this way, the less clothing I wear, the less laundry you have to do. ”

  I watch as Savannah clutches her purse a bit tighter to her body, and indecision filters into her gaze. I wait her out, certain that I’ve scared her off for good, which is no skin off my back.

  “I really need this job,” she admits, and then her gaze falters to the floor. “But I’d be wasting your time if I stayed to discuss the details. I just can’t work here if you’re going to walk around na**d all day. Thank you, Mr. Cooke, for your time, and I’m really sorry I woke you up. ”

  She never looks back at me but spins on her heel and heads for the front door. I watch her for just a millisecond, and then I push off from the counter to go after her. “Wait a minute,” I call out.

  She stops and turns to look at me over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised.

  “I don’t really prance around na**d all day,” I grudgingly admit. “You woke me out of a sound sleep this morning, and I didn’t even realize I only had my underwear on when I answered the door. ”

  Savannah doesn’t say anything, just levels those brown eyes… which now that I look at her some more, are really quite lovely.

  “Besides… I’ll be in my office most of the time, and you will probably never see me,” I add on, hoping she reconsiders my offer. I really don’t have time to interview other companies, and I’d like to get this taken care of so I can get working on my manuscript.

  “What exactly would my duties be? And the pay?” she asks as she turns fully to me.

  “Like I said… clean the house, do my laundry. Nothing too hard… twice a week. I’ll pay you five hundred dollars. ”

  She blinks at me in surprise, and I realize the money I just offered her was ridiculously generous. I didn’t know that until she blinked, but based on the look on her face, it’s clear I have no clue what the value of a cleaning service is. Oh, well… too late to take that back now. I’ll just have to make sure she earns it… like maybe scrub the floor with a toothbrush or something.

  “That’s too much,” she tells me, and now I’m the one blinking at her in surprise.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You would be paying me way too much. It will probably take me about no more than three hours a day if I were to come twice a week. That’s got to be something like… eighty bucks an hour or close to it. Way too much. ”

  Seriously… this girl… woman, just had a major opportunity to make some serious cash off me, yet here she’s telling me that I’m overpaying her? Who the f**k is that honest these days?

  “Tell you what… how about you cook dinner for me the days you come to clean?” I offer.

  “That’s still too much,” she says, her eyes determined not to take advantage of me. This is f**king weird? In fact, she’d make a fantastically kooky character in one of my books… a character that was honest to a fault, which means she probably doesn’t have much in the brains department. She’d get eaten by one of my monsters in a nanosecond.

  But, I’m officially over being amazed by her naivety and tell her, “Take it or leave it. I don’t have time to mess around with this further, as I’m already terribly behind on my work. ”

  There she stands again… staring at me in uncertainty, and I can see she’s actually contemplating turning down a job that will pay her more money than she’s probably ever been paid for a job before. It sort of irritates me this foolishness she’s exhibiting, and I start to open my mouth to tell her to get the f**k out, when she says, “I’ll take it. When do you want me to start?”