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Authors: Bijou Hunter

Junkyard Dog

BOOK: Junkyard Dog


Bijou Hunter


Copyright © 2016 Bijou Hunter


All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


For more information about this series and author


Cover Design

Photographer: Eugenio Marongiu

Source: Shutterstock



Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, and Roo for owning my heart

Mustang Sally for the millions of pep talks

Candy Girl Miranda for keeping me sane and helping
me grow

Saucy Sarah and Jazzy Jaimie for being beta reading

Naughty Nicole for her kind heart and endless

Jim Croce for the inspiration of “Bad, Bad Leroy


Book Summary

Hayes is as mean as a junkyard dog. Well, that’s the rumor Candy Wilburn hears
before taking the job as his assistant. Hayes doesn’t disappoint. He’s a giant
man with a big mouth and a bigger ego. In the town of White Horse, what the
gorgeous and dangerous Hayes wants, he gets. Now he wants his sassy assistant.


has no doubt Hayes will make a great lover, but she doesn’t want to be her
boss’s booty call.
At first anyway.
Once he shifts from boss to friend
and lover, Candy falls hard. Now she can only hope the filthy-mouthed outsider
she loves can open his heart and learn to trust.


’ve only heard horrible things about Angus Hayes.
He’s a ruthless man and all-around terrible person. He’s often compared to a
junkyard dog. The asshole apparently rules the small industrial town of White Horse with an iron fist. After hearing so many bad things about him, I’m not
surprised the bastard can’t keep an assistant. Lack of social skills aside,
Hayes offers a solid salary and full medical for the position, and I’m lured to
give the job a try.

His office is a concrete mass likely capable of
withstanding a natural disaster or zombie apocalypse. The front door weighs, at
least, fifty pounds, and I struggle to open the damn thing. Inside, I find a large
front office filled with stacked boxes and discarded furniture. Before I wonder
if I’ve stumbled into a storage unit, a woman pops her head up and stares
shocked at me.

“Are you Candy Wilburn?”


“You came,” the frazzled blonde says, gesturing me
closer. “A lot of people chicken out when they have interviews with him.”

I check my simple black blouse for fuzzies and then
ask, “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m just the temp. A few girls at the agency
and I trade off days here. No one can deal with him for…” The woman’s eyes
widen. “I’m not sure if I should warn you or if warning you will make you run.”

“I don’t run especially not in these shoes,” I say,
glancing at my slightly scuffed black heels.

The woman follows my gaze down to my shoes and then
she focuses on my face long enough to lie. “He’s not so bad.”

I slide off my jacket and shake out my long, blonde
hair. “I’m ready whenever he is.”

The woman hurries to the back room and mumbles
something. Hayes yells that he can’t hear a fucking thing she’s saying. I jump
at the sound of his booming voice and wonder if he’s hard of hearing.

After a minute, the woman returns looking extra
rattled. “He’s ready for you.”

“He isn’t naked, is he? I’d like to prepare for
whatever weird behavior this guy might pull.”

“No, he’s not weird. Just…” She pauses and
considers her words. “He’s high maintenance.”

“Aren’t all men?” I ask, but she only stares at me.
“Can I go back now?”

Nodding, she says nothing. Her fear doesn’t bode
well for me, but unless the guy is handsy, I’m taking the job. Hell, I’ll put
up with handsy if he adds vision to my benefits package.

When I enter, Angus Hayes is standing with his back
to me. The guy is huge at over six and a half feet. No wonder the ceilings are
tall in his bunker office. His hair is nearly black with a few stray grays.
Going for a lumberjack look, he’s wearing a flannel shirt, blue jeans, and
hiker boots. I suspect he shops at a special store for giants. Will part of my
job involve picking up his oversized clothes?

Hayes turns to me and frowns like I’m annoying him.
His people skills are stellar right off the bat.

“Wilburn?” he asks, sitting in a monster-sized
chair behind a messy as hell desk. I’ve never seen so many post-it notes in my

“I prefer Candy.”

“What’s that short for?”


“Your mother didn’t love you much, did she?”

“My mother adored me,” I say, sitting across from
him. “She just loved sweets more.”

Hayes doesn’t react. “You don’t have any experience
running an office.”

“That’s not the most important fact about me.”

“What is it then?”

My brown eyes find his nearly black ones, and I
hold his gaze. “I’m excellent at tolerating assholes.”

The corners of Hayes’s mouth curves upward. “You
suck at interviews.”

“You suck at keeping employees.”

Hayes looks at my resume. “Did you hear about that
all the way from Cincinnati?”

“My sister lives in White Horse.”

“What’s her name?” he asks before throwing up his
hand. “Let me fucking guess. Your sister is Honey Mayer.”

“Mom loved her sugar.”

Hayes finally smiles. “I know everyone in my town.”

“And they all know you. Honey said you haven’t kept
an assistant for more than a few weeks. Why do you think that is?”

Still smiling, he leans forward. “I don’t suffer

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Where are you living now? Can’t imagine there’s
much space at the Mayer house.”

“We stayed there for a few days, but her husband
kicked us out.”

“How fucking come?”

Shrugging, I consider my sister’s bad taste in men.
“I mentioned he was an asshole, and he didn’t take it as well as you did.”

“No, I suspect he wouldn’t. Andrew Mayer is a thin
skinned fucker.”

“Among other things.”

Hayes studies me for a minute, and I can see him
figuring things out. He knows I’ve worked as a filing clerk and data entry.
I’ve never managed anything in my entire life unless he considers my kids as
employees and my house as a business.

“Where are you staying now?” he finally asks.

“We’re at the Hilltop Inn. You know, the place
that’s nowhere near a hill, let alone on top of it.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

“Me and my twins.”

“They're not babies, are they?” he asks full of
disgust. “I hate babies.”

“They’re nine.”

Still irritated, he asks, “Girls or boys?”

“One of each.”

“Do they get sick a lot?”

“No, but I won’t pretend I won’t ditch work if they
need me.”

“Fair enough, but I won’t baby you just because you
forgot to take the fucking pill. Understand?”

“Do your medical benefits include vision?” I ask,
standing up. “The woman on the phone didn’t know.”

“Sit the fuck down!” he hollers.

“No,” I casually respond while sliding on my
jacket. “I need to get back to my kids before the thin-skinned asshole returns
from work.”

Crossing his arms, he glares at me. “So you’re
walking away from the job then?”

“No, you’re giving me the job. I’ll start tomorrow.
See you then.”

Hayes jumps up from his desk and lunges to stop me
from walking out of the door.

“There’s one fucking boss in this fucking office,”
he growls at me.

Noticing his shirt collar is crooked, I reach up
and fix it. “I appreciate height in my bosses. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hayes glares hard at me, but he’s all bluster. I
know he won’t hurt me except for possibly blowing out my eardrums from all of
his hollering.

“Be here at eight,” he says, relenting when I
refuse to.

Once Hayes steps aside, I walk past him. “That’ll
work until the kids start school. Then I’ll come in at nine.”

I hear Hayes grunt behind me. The woman at the
front flinches when he slams the door, but I only keep walking. Based on the
mess of boxes, I have a lot of work waiting for me here. That’ll wait for tomorrow.
For tonight, I’m taking the kids out to dinner to celebrate my new job.

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