On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2) (5 page)

What? Where did that come from? No, no, Braun. This is not the time or place.

After snooping for what seems like forever, I decide to sit on the couch and wait for Levi to seal my fate. I fidget, waiting for him to arrive. There’s an excited energy wreaking havoc in my system, but at the same time I’m extremely nervous, and I start questioning how I ever imagined I could possibly have a chance of getting a job here. Like, Levi’s going to want to hire someone who’s never worked a day in her life before? Well, at a real job anyway, although, let’s face it, being a mom is definitely a job. A pure labour of love that I wouldn’t change for the world. Unfortunately, I don’t think “full time mommy to a beautiful little girl” would work as a selling feature on my resume, especially at a bar.

I decide to save face and leave. “Forget it. I’m better off to just cut my losses and go,” I mutter under my breath.
I’ll just tell Brooke that something’s come up and thank her for the opportunity,
I think as I start to exit.

But as I reach the door, I’m too late. It opens and I pretty much fall forward into one hell of a rock solid chest, or what could better be described as a brick wall.

Suddenly, a rush of tingles ripples through my entire entity as two strong hands steady me by gripping my waist. I can feel my nipples harden against my bra, and my cheeks heat instantly.

Fark!
Of course, now I’m feeling all kinds of embarrassment, with my heart skipping a few beats faster and my eye doing that stupid twitch thing it does when I’m nervous or embarrassed. I decide keeping my head down is the best move in this situation. Plus, I’m way too afraid to meet this solid mass face-to-face just yet. I work to steady myself, before having to look up. My eyes are treated to a trim waist and a beefy chest, all perfectly accessorized by veiny, heavily tattooed, sexy-as-sin arms and strong hands. Hands that are still planted very firmly on each side of my waist, holding me upright.

Oh, mah sugar nuts, of course it’s
him. “Cheese and rice…!”

A loud throat-clearing has me looking up.

“Did you actually just say, ‘cheese and rice’?” he chuckles, his voice gruff and recognizable.

I can’t believe I said that out loud. I want to justify my word choice; I feel the need to explain that having a four-year-old parrot around helps you to train your once-potty mouth to pretty much become that of a well-behaved and respected woman of times long ago, but because I’m tongue-tied, I can only manage to shrug my shoulders in response.

God, I’m a spazz.

“You must be Braunwyn, Brooke told me you’ve been waiting for me. I’m Levi Eddison. Sorry I’m a bit late but I had a few things to tend to before getting here this morning. And for some reason I had the time wrong. I wouldn’t have kept you waiting if I had known…” he pauses, looks at me, like really
looks
at me, before adding, “…trust me.”

What the heck does that mean?
I want to ask, as his comment seems to have a deeper meaning, especially after the way he eyed me, but of course I don’t.

“That’s okay,” I tell him, “I’m sorry to have crashed into you. I’m actually going to head out, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for. I shouldn’t have even wasted your time by applying. I don’t have any experience whatsoever,” I add, lowering my head in defeat. As I go to move past him, I can feel that his hands are
still
on my waist, halting my attempt at fleeing.

“Hey, now,” he says, gently tilting my face up with a knuckle grazing my chin, so I’m forced to look at him. Goodness, he’s striking, the pictures around his office didn’t do him any justice at all. His deep-set eyes are layered with blue specks of colour so rich and vibrant it’s like looking at the sky right before the sun sets—breathtaking; eyes which are highlighted by lashes so long and dark that I am jealous of them. His cheekbones and jawline stand out, firm and perfectly symmetrical, I’d say almost chiseled. A bit more than a five o’clock shadow graces this perfection. I can well imagine the sensation of having that sexy stubble running across my neck.
Cheese and rice, indeed!

What the hell has gotten into me?

Levi’s smiling down at me. Shoot, he’s tall, I notice, as I take him in in more detail. His beautiful smile shifts my focus to his mouth. Holy moly, those lips! His lips, his perfectly kissable lips, with his top lip being less full, and his bottom lip, well, Jesus, it’s…
perfect
. Something to sigh over actually, and I imagine tugging on it, relishing its plumpness. Trust me, Levi is the stuff that the female population most definitely memorizes and stores up in their minds and plays, on repeat, in their version of the “spank bank” (what London and I refer to as the “Jill Till”) after taking in the sight of him. Hell, I myself will be playing him on repeat with Mr. Buzz.

I need to get away from this man.

Not since Shawn has any male had such an effect on me; not that I’ve put myself out there, but still. I go to school and do socialize when London forces me to, but never in the last four years have my first impressions of a person resulted in my thinking about masturbating to images of them in the near future. With this in mind, I decide it’s time to cut my losses and get the hell out from under Levi’s spell. I know I said I was going to try to get myself out there more, but the last thing I need is a man like this in my life. I just can’t afford that much faith in the male species, I’ve still got my training wheels on. And besides, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that this man is taken, anyway.

I mean, he’s bloody gorgeous.

Levi

S
hit, there’s no
way I can let this girl leave.

I need to convince her to at least stay and consider a job here. Fuck, she’s beautiful and there’s just something about her, something I’m curious to know. I want her to stick around so I can figure out what it is.

“I’m actually looking for a freshy,” I blurt having no fucking idea what the hell I’m taking about.

What the fuck is a “freshy”, asshole?

“I’m sorry? A
what
?” She gives me an incredulous look and I smile at her tone, and how much of an idiot I am. Damn, those eyes of hers make me pause and stare as I try to think what the hell I meant to say.

“What I mean, Scrappy, is—I’m looking to hire a few people with very little experience. Blank canvases, if you will. I find that I’m a bit anal and rather than try and retrain people my way, I’d like to find a couple of people who have never worked in a place like this so I can train them the way that I want right from the get go. Some ‘freshies’, I guess,” I shrug, knowing I sound like an awkward idiot.

“Did you just call me ‘Scrappy’?”

“
Really
?” I chuckle. “Out of all that, you took away that I called you ‘Scrappy’?” I ask her in return as I move my hands reluctantly off her waist, before stepping aside to motion her into my office.

“Cheese and rice!” she says.

“Freshy. Scrappy.”

We laugh together.

“Look, why don’t you come back inside,” I say. “We can sit and talk about the job, your expectations, and go from there?” I wait silently, trying to will her to accept.

“Okay, that sounds good,” she answers. “I’m sorry for seeming a bit out of sorts, this really is all new to me.” She shrugs and her long bangs cover her right eye. It takes everything in me to keep from moving them so her eyes can focus on nothing but me. “Are you sure you don’t just want to bid me farewell now, while you have the chance?” she asks.

Fuck no. That is the last thing I want.

“Naw, come on in and let’s chat, Miss Scrappy. I have a feeling you’re just what I—er, we, need around here.”

Thankfully after a few heartbeats she takes me up on my offer. Score one for the good guys. As she moves past me I note how she’s all long legs topped off with one sweet ass in some sexy-as-hell black pants. By the time she’s sitting down in front of my desk, I am eye-fucking her as hard as I can. I draw in a breath and adjust myself before moving around to sit at my desk.

What the hell am I getting myself into?

Staring at her again before speaking, I wonder why she’s never had a job before. Please don’t be some spoiled little rich girl looking to rebel.

“Okay, well, let’s get to the interview then, shall we?” I shuffle some papers around looking for the stack of resumes.
Got em’.
“What made you apply to Pub Fiction?” I ask out of sheer curiosity, because in a university town like St. Catharine’s, there are a ton of waitressing jobs so I like to hear what draws them to Pub Fiction specifically.

“Um, well,” she begins and I can see a small shake to her hand as she sweeps her bangs from her face.

Yeah. Let me see those eyes.

“I applied here because it’s pretty close to my home. Also, the shift hours work out perfectly with my school timetable and other responsibilities.”

“Okay, great.” I pull her resume from the pile and scan the mostly blank page. “I see you weren’t exaggerating, you truly don’t have any experience, yet you did apply. So why did you think I should hire you? Sell yourself to me, Braunwyn,” I state, testing out how her name settles itself in my mouth before rolling off my tongue. And fuck do I like it. A lot.

Braunwyn.

She looks at me with some reluctance, and honestly I know I’m intentionally messing with her—being a bit of a prick, seeing as I already told her I wanted inexperienced newbies—but now I’m making her dwell on that fact again.

Tilting her head to the side a bit, as if to show her surprise at my question, she pauses for a moment. I had worried she might balk at my request but then she offered what I can only describe as one hell of a cock-hardening smile before opening her sexy mouth to reply.

“Sell myself, eh?” she repeats, and I smile, nodding for her to go on.

“Okay. Well, I’m a quick learner, I’m independent, very responsible,” and I notice her cheeks flush when she says the last bit as if she didn’t mean to say it like that. I don’t ask her to elaborate, even though she’s got me curious. “I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule, I can work most nights after seven-thirty. I like people, I just don’t always know how to interact with them without being my awkward self,” she giggles and my cock jumps at the sound.

Jesus fuck, what is it about her?

“See that was easy, eh? You did great.”

“Mr. Eddison,” she says looking at me straight on, her face turning serious, which is causing my heart rate to accelerate. “I’m not done yet, I have a bit more to say, if that’s okay?” She smiles sheepishly, waiting for me to respond.

I’m already sold, baby, but go on.

Clearing my throat again to hide my laugh, I smile at how bloody cute and sassy she is. “Yes, please. Sorry, floor’s still yours, and please call me Levi.” I gesture for her to continue.

“Because I need it,” she admits, looking defeated and tipping her head to avoid my face, and I hate that I’ve given her that look.

“What does that mean, Braunwyn? Are you okay?” I grit my teeth hoping that there isn’t anything wrong with her.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m great. I just have zero job experience whatsoever and need to get some, and fast, and I need someone to take a chance on me. I think I’d like that to be here. You see, I want to be a social worker and help people, and as you can see I’m a bit socially inexperienced. I mean…”

I tune her out as she goes on and on. I can see by the way she becomes so animated and how her face lights up that she’s beyond passionate about social work, and anything else she seems to care about. However, all my mind focuses on is what it would be like if a girl like her cared about the likes of me with that kind of passion.

Fuck
.

Shaking my head, I decide to knock those thoughts right the fuck out of my head, and listen as she finishes up. I stifle a laugh as I listen to her because she’s right, she is a bit awkward.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that she intrigues the shit out of me. I’d like to explore and get to know all the awkwardness that makes up Miss Braunwyn Daniels.

Braunwyn

O
f course, just
as I’m finally walking up to the front door—keys and everything else in hand—my cell goes off.

God, I need to work out again. I’m dying.

Exhausted after a two-block hike from the bus stop, the phone keeps blaring at me from the depths of the oversized knock-off Coach bag London loaned me for my interview. The only slightly muffled sound of the Minions singing “ring, ring” at full-volume can still be heard down the block.

I need to change that damn ringtone.
If it wakes her up, I’m going to scream.

Juggling keys, purse, groceries, and, of course, Emme (whom I might add is getting too heavy for me to carry, but she fell asleep on the bus and I didn’t have the heart to wake her), I finally make it through the front door.

With the phone still going off, I manage to put Emmerson down on the couch and the bags on the floor. Now let the rummage game begin. I know there’s a good chance it could be Levi calling because the only other people that have my number are Grams and London. Clearly, giving out my number to new friends is another thing to work on in my resolution to be more social.
Add it to the list!

I know it’s neither of them calling. I already spoke to both today to update them on how Emme’s first day and the interview went. I was happy to report that Emmerson loved school and had such an amazing time. And how, for the first ten minutes after my arrival to pick her up, she cried, telling me how she wanted to stay at big girl school. I omitted the part where I had mixed feelings about being grateful that she transitioned so well, as the selfish mommy in me wanted her to miss me, at least a little bit.

“Score!” I shout-whisper. Hauling my phone out of the bag, I slide to answer despite being a bit breathless.

“He—hello?”

It takes the speaker a few seconds to reply but when they do, it’s as if goosebumps have taken up residence all over my body. They scatter across my arms and the back of my neck on hearing the deep baritone voice that greets me in return. “Uh, hey. Is this Braunwyn?” he asks, and I immediately smile hearing Levi’s voice.