Page 9 of Property of my Boss

I flash the inhaler that I found on the desk earlier. “Hadn’t seen this before, so I figured it was yours.”

“Oh,” her twisted face relaxes as she reaches up and through the truck window, her soft fingers sweeping against mine as the engine rumbles, “thank you.” She tucks the tube of medicine into her pocket and turns away without another word, her sandy blonde hair blowing back in the breeze as she makes her way toward the small hospital where a set of automatic doors open five feet ahead of her.

It’s then that I notice a man following close behind. Shaggy black hair, T-shirt, jeans, round physique, about six feet tall. He lands his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs him off and keeps walking as though she’s done this before.

What the fuck?

I stay focused on the situation, watching as Tilly disappears behind the double doors of the hospital and the man begins pacing back and forth like a caged animal, like a man unhinged.

This is none of my God damn business, and I have enough fucking shit going on, but I can’t drive away. I can’t leave her here with… whatever the hell this is. For all I know, this guy is a fucking psychopath.

Fuck.

I turn off the engine of the truck, tuck my unlicensed pistol into my jeans, and stalk toward him as the wind picks up, blowing red leaves across the paved parking lot. There aren’t many others parked out here today, which might be why the psycho doesn’t notice me until I’m speaking.

“There a problem here?”

The man pauses his pace and darts his gaze toward me. His brows narrow heavily as the automatic doors open again, though no one is behind them. “Who the hell are you?”

I’ve never been a huge fan of answering a question with a question. “You’re following Tilly,” I groan. “Why?”

He shakes his head and feathers his fingers back through his hair. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his late twenties. No wrinkles, clean shaven, soft hands. “Who the fuck are you?”

There it is! Another question with a fucking question!

I put my hand in the pocket of my jeans, slightly pushing the handle of my gun out from my waistband for all to see. “Last chance to answer the fucking question. Why the fuck are you following Tilly?”

He pauses for a moment, the bravado on his face turning pale as his gaze drops to my pistol then up again. “She’s my ex. I’m trying to get her to talk to me. I’ve tried everything.”

This guy ain’t shit, but for some reason a streak of jealousy rushes through me, and for a brief second, I contemplate taking his life here and now for ever looking at her to begin with.

“Well,” I groan, “probably time you stopped. Doesn’t look like she’s interested.”

“She’s like that. She acts like she’s not into me, but she’s looking for effort. If I keep showing up, she’ll eventually—”

“If I see you around her again, I’ll break you’re fucking legs.” The words slip out before I think them through, and though I know I’ve gone over the top, I don’t have any intention of apologizing.

The guy looks at me cross-eyed and takes off across the parking lot toward his little, bitch boy car that I’m sure gets great fucking gas mileage.

This is bad. I better get out of here. I’m supposed to be lying low. If Atlas has things his way, we’ve got another guy moving through the system soon. I can’t be causing a bunch of fucking drama around town. I can’t be giving Sheriff Williams more reasons to be rooting around in my business.

When I’m back at the campground, I kick off my boots, lock the front door, take myself into the back room, and I start to jerk off. I jerk off to the images of Tilly in that tight little skirt, bent down on the ground scrubbing the floor. I jerk off to thoughts of her big, round ass arched up as she pushed back and forth. I jerk off as I think about kicking her thick thighs open to stuff my cock inside her tight, little pussy.

What sounds would she make?

What would her silky hair feel like twisted up in my fist?

How hard could she take it before she begged me to stop?

I’m a fucking mess, but it’s the relief I need to act like a normal fucking human come morning. At least that’s what I tell myself as I come all over my stomach, hollering out her name.

Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking mess.

In my head, the whole thing seems like a rational decision. A great decision in fact. And even as I drift off to sleep for the night, I can’t help but feel content, like suddenly every filthy thought I’ve been having has been exercised from my body.

*****

When my new employee pulls into the campground with the morning sun in a tight pair of jeans and that fitted camp T-shirt, I’m having a different feeling than last night. The urges that I thought had gone away, only seem stronger. Now that my brain has pictured us together, it wants the real thing.