Page 28 of Soothed By Daddy
“You’re thinking again.”
“Am I?” I nuzzled his cheek. “What am I thinking?”
“You want to sleep for a little bit more, and then you want a waffle PB&J.”
“Do I know what a waffle PB&J is?”
“You do! It’s got waffles instead of bread. You knew that.”
“Baby, you’re a mind reader.”
“I know,” George said smugly.
9
CYRUS
“I’m looking for George.”
“Okay.”
I’d spent the last hour of my Saturday morning off sanding shelves for the downstairs bathroom. If there was a worse job than sanding, I didn’t know it. The bag never caught all the dust, so it ended up in my hair, my clothes, and, because I was too lazy to dig out a mask, in my mouth.
I didn’t know who this guy was, but he walked like he owned the place. His voice had that polished, faux-polite tone that made my teeth itch, and he smelled faintly like expensive cologne trying to hide stale coffee. When he opened the gate and slammed it behind him, he hadn’t bothered to latch it, and now he was standing in front of me like I was supposed to jump up and tell him where to find George. He’d gone to the post office, but this asshole didn’t need to know that. Since hooking up with George two weeks ago, I’d had to remind myself I had zero claims on him or his time.
“So is he here?”
“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I find that a bit hard to believe, considering you’re doing work for him. You’re a handyman, right?”
“Close enough.” After two and a half seconds, I already knew this bastard was worthless. There was something I don’t know…smarmy, I guess…about him. He should be on TV selling used cars in a sketchy lot downtown. The kind where every car probably had stolen titles, but nobody wanted to dig too deep because then they’d have to do something about it.
I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. His casual loafers were made of nice leather and his slacks seemed a bit overdressed for a Saturday morning. He wore a T-shirt that saidMy casual costs more than your entire wardrobe. I stared at it for a full second, blinked, and thought, Of course you do. His hair was slicked back, cut short, and looked like he had picked it out of a magazine. Now I hated him a little more.
“Fine. I guess I’ll wait for him here since you’re not going to be helpful.”
“Suit yourself.”
The guy sat on the porch steps after he wiped away the bit of grime from them. His grimace told me everything I needed to know, and it was cemented when he pulled out a package of wet wipes, cleaned his hand off, and then tossed the used rag off to the side of the steps.
“No one likes a litterbug.”
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me..”
I didn’t know who this guy was, and I didn’t even care at this point. But he was here for George, who’d probably be prettypissed off if I punched his friend. I grunted and went back to my sanding. I may or may not have loosened the holdback, so dust may or may not have floated closer to him. The fact that he had to step away from the stairs was a coincidence, and I’d deny it if George got mad about it.
We did our best to ignore each other while I worked and he waited. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something, but I didn’t ask because I didn’t care. After about thirty minutes of waiting, the sighs began.
“Chris, what are you doing here?”
I’d been so focused on my sanding and directing the sawdust the asshole’s way that I hadn’t even noticed George’s return. He’d said he was dropping off some stuff at the post office, but he’d returned with an arm full of fresh flowers and a brown kraft bag stamped with the farmers’ market cheesecake guy’s logo. That explained why it had taken him so long to drop off his package.
“I was waiting for you.”
All the assholery that he’d shown me was gone in a whisper when he spoke to George. Now his tone was sickly sweet and accommodating. “Your handyman and I were sitting here talking about the renovations on your house.”
I snorted at that bullshit. The smile he gave me was predatory, and it dawned on me exactly who he was.
