AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She laughs at the joke. I decide she must like me because that was a really bad joke.
Okay, time to get my mind out of the gutter. This is a job, not a date.
I sort of hope that Vivian will wait inside while I work, but she doesn’t. Instead, she comes back out fifteen minutes later wearing that two piece she mentions earlier.
And God, it’s unfair how good she looks in it.
I dated in high school. I mean, I don’t know if you could call it dating, but I’ve had experience with girls. It’s not like I’m a complete stranger to sex. Hell, even now, I can usually count on a few nights a month with one of the girls at school during the semester.
But Vivian is something else. She’s not just beautiful. She’s confident without being arrogant, poised without quite being regal, and mature without being… well, old.
I’m glad when I finish the job and I can get out of there. I’m treading dangerous ground right now. The last thing I need is to let hormones get me in the kind of trouble that could lose me my job and ruin my chance at getting out of Cudahy.
“All right, Miss Chase,” I say.
“Vivian.” She flashes me a smile that could melt Antarctica. “Please.”
“Vivian. We’re all set here. We have your credit card on file. No extra charges since this was pretty straightforward. You should get a receipt from us within twenty-four hours. Thank you for choosing—”
“Would you like a drink?”
I’d like a cold shower is what I’d like.
I hesitate before answering. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to drink around her.
“I have some lemonade in the fridge.”
"Oh. I mean, yes. Yes, please."
Her smile widens, and she holds out her hand for me to help her up. My heart pounds, but I manage to keep from drooling as I lift her to her feet.
We walk into the kitchen, and she lifts herself onto her tiptoes to retrieve two glasses from the cabinet. I try not to think about what the movement does to the rest of her body.
Then she opens the fridge and bends over to get the lemonade, and yeah, there’s no way to keep me from thinking about that.
She looks over at me while still in the fridge, and I quickly turn away, cheeks burning. She giggles, and my cheeks burn brighter now that I know she caught me.
“So how long have you been working here?” she asks.
“Um, this is my second day.”
“Your second day,” she repeats.
She hands me my glass and says, “Who have you seen already?’
I sip the lemonade. It's cool and refreshing and a perfect balance of sweet and tart. "Um, the Patels, the Van Huycks, and the Chos yesterday. Today, it's you and then the Kensington."
"Ah," she says, "The Kensington."
Her upper lip curls slightly when she says that. Because I’m an idiot who is at the moment mesmerized by her very presence, I ask, “You don’t like them?”
Instead of answering my question directly, she laughs and says, “I think you’ll come to appreciate Laurel Heights. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I think you’ll appreciate it. The deception here is refreshingly honest.”
My brow furrows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You will be.”
I decide to leave that alone. We fall silent a moment, and I notice her eyes travel over me again. She’s not shy about showing that she appreciates what she sees, but I want to remain about as far from the conclusion of that thought process as I can, so I strike up conversation again. “So you don’t like the new name?”
