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There was flirtation in his voice, and I looked up at him.
Almost immediately, the memory of Elias, his heavy hand around my throat, the way his fingers had stroked me so deliciously, invaded my mind.
I looked away, blushing, and too late realized that Todd probably took it the wrong way.
I certainly couldn’t correct him though, so instead I just shrugged.
“So, I hear you’re doing good things for the business,” I said.
While I’d been working on the truck, my father had been singing Todd’s praises and talked about the plans he had to help grow and expand the business. He’d been so excited, but I’d felt a twinge of anger, wondering how my father planned to fund this expansion and why that money couldn’t be put toward the debt.
But I’d quickly pushed those feelings down.
“Yeah,” Todd said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I’m a new player in a couple of areas. Trying to expand a little. Hopefully, it will pan out,” he said.
New player.
For some reason, my mind drifted back to that awful dinner, and I remembered how Armen had used a similar phrase.
I shook the thought off and smiled at Todd.
The Petrosyans monopolized too much of my time and attention as it was. For now, I was with the people who mattered, and I would focus on that.
“Well, be careful,” I said.
Todd arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”
I shrugged. “Trucking can be a tough business, and it’s easy to get in over your head. I just want to make sure my dad doesn’t get into any trouble,” I said.
Todd smiled. “You know you can count on me. Always.”
I returned the smile, though I couldn’t quiet shake the worry that wanted to take hold.
I brushed it off. My father had learned his lesson, and Todd wouldn’t lead him astray.
“Want some water?” Todd asked.
“Sure,” I responded, realizing that I was a little bit thirsty.
I fell into step next to Todd but all of a sudden got a little self-conscious. “Sorry about the bummy outfit,” I said.
Todd pulled open the door of the small modular building set up behind the trailer and then said, “Kayla, nothing you wear could ever bother me, even if it is engine oil.”
He walked to the cabinet and grabbed a wet nap. After he opened the small packet, he unfolded the paper and then wiped the smudge of oil off my cheek.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime. And here’s that drink,” he responded, pulling a bottle from the seven-foot tall cooler.
I took a sip of water and then looked around.
“Wow. This place looks great. Quite the upgrade, as a matter of fact,” I said, looking around at the comfortable-looking but easy to clean sofas, three computer work stations, and the fancy coffee maker and drink machines, all off which appeared to be free.
“I made a couple of suggestions to Mr. Dutton,” Todd said.
I settled my gaze on him. “More than a couple. The last time I was here, the ‘break room’ consisted of a stack of old tires with a tarp on them and a thermos of whatever my dad remembered to bring to drink.”
“Yeah, and that worked for what it was, but this company is growing, and the environment needs to reflect that. And besides, the perks are good for the drivers, and it impresses people when the place looks good,” he said.
