Page 9 of Georgia Guy
The man exudes raw sexuality from his pores. I can’t even begin to imagine how glorious it would be to be writhing beneath him or bouncing atop him as we claim each other.
I’m beyond curious to see what his ex-girlfriend looks like. He mentioned that their relationship didn’t end on good terms, but does he still have lingering feelings for her? When the two of them see each other again, will it cause a steamy rekindling of their romance?I sure as hell hope not.
Even though Joe is merely a contractor doing work for me, and I have no right to stake a claim on him, the thought of him reuniting with his ex-love makes my insides feel jittery and jiggly in a nauseating way.
When we board my company’s jet, Joe lets out a low whistle, which I now recognize as his way of nonverbally expressing that he’s impressed by what he sees. This time, he adds, “Nice digs.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I give him a wide smile, enjoying sharing this plush side of my life with him.
When Flo, our flight attendant, asks what we would like for dinner, I turn to look at Joe. “Is sushi okay?”
“Umm, not if you want me to eat it,” he answers with a look of pure disgust pinching his features.
“What would you like?” Flo asks him.
“Don’t you have any normal food, like chicken fingers, or something? Just feed me like a hungry eight-year-old,” he answers.
“I’ll see what I can do,” the efficient woman responds.
Not wanting there to be any confusion, I say, “I’ll still have the sushi.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flo says, already on her way to make it happen.
When our food arrives, I grin over at Joe’s plate before teasing him, “Would you like a juice box with that?”
“Very funny,” he grumbles, but the sly grin on his face makes it obvious that he’s amused. Proving that he’s a good sport, he adds, “I prefer chocolate milk with my chicky nuggies.”
The surprised laugh bursts out of me. I’ve never known such a big, strong, masculine man to be so comfortable making fun of himself.
In a matter of moments, Flo presents Joe with a tall glass of chocolate milk with a curly straw.
The surprised man says, “Oh, I was just kidding.”
“All right, then,” Flo says, already moving to return the beverage to the galley.
Joe stops her by saying, “But since you made it, I’ll gladly drink it.”
When he makes grabby hands for the glass, Flo and I both laugh at the ridiculous man. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Flo be anything but a staunch professional.
The lovely sound of her laughter makes me realize that in all of these years, I’ve never properly thanked the woman for constantly being on-call to drop everything at a moment’s notice and fly wherever I say, while efficiently taking care of anything I want during our flights.
Giving her a genuine smile, I say, “I don’t know how you do it, Flo. I’ve never brought a child on board the jet, yet you had the right ingredients to make this big kid happy.”
I thumb Joe before adding, “You’ve never failed to make any of my crazy requests a reality. You’re wonderful at this job. Thank you.”
The woman flushes at my sincere compliment. “Oh, Ms. Morrow, that’s so kind of you to say.”
“Call me Alex,” I offer, surprised to find that I’ve never suggested the informality before.
“Thank you, Alex,” the woman says before heading back to the galley.
Joe is giving me a warm smile. “You made her day.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me.” Although I make the statement in a teasing tone, there’s more truth to it than I’d like to admit.
I’ve been lax about making sure that my staff members feel valued and appreciated, so I silently vow to be better about that going forward. Deep down, I know that I’m not any better than anyone else, but the status and power that comes from my family’s wealth can make that fact easy to forget when everyone is constantly jumping through burning hoops to keep me happy.
As soon as we finish eating, Flo arrives to clear away our dishes. “We have almost four more hours of flight time, if you’d like to get some sleep.”
